Page 30 of Vicious Angel


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“That this pathetic excuse of a man is a pussy,” Nazyr grunts, and Eset laughs.

“He would have to be for shooting someone with their back turned.” Eset goes up to the man who tried to kill her and grabs him by the back of his hair. She yanks on it and speaks clearly as she gets her point across. “Who the fuck sent you to kill me, hmm? I know you’ve had quite a long night, but rest assured, I can make it so much worse. If you think this is as bad as it could’ve gotten, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

The man tries to smile, then spits on my wife. I start to take a step to intervene, but Eset pulls a blade out of her crossbody bag and drags it along his cheeks. “Since you like to smile so much, it’s only fitting I make it permanent,” she snarls, dropping the man’s head.

Lom goes up to her with a rag to wipe her face and clean her up. I give him a nod in thanks, and he offers me one in return. “Has he not said a fucking thing?” Eset questions her brothers, and Nazyr speaks up.

“He spoke of our father briefly.”

Eset raises her brows. “Ah, so this is one of his remaining soldiers?”

“Remaining?” The man cackles through what I can only imagine is immense pain. “There’s an entire army ready to take you all out, one by one.”

“Ah, so he speaks.” Eset crosses her arms and walks closer to him.

“You betrayed your family, and Chechnya won’t stand for it. Anzor was a good leader, and you upset the scales of balance. No one wants your brother as the leader, and those loyal to your father are going to destroy everything that is important to each of you.”

So, this man is loyal to Eset and Nazyr’s father’s cause. They’re loyal to a man who has been dead for a little while now. “Who do you expect to lead if not for the rightful Umarova heirs?” I beg the million-dollar question, and the man looks over at me. Hopefully, Eset’s brothers see that I am loyal to them. I think this is a good testament to my character and that I’ll always support their ventures in tune with my wife’s.

“Someone more fitting, who has been around for many years. Funny that the whore’s husband now finds the courage to speak.”

Eset rears back her heel and kicks him right in the face. Blood splatters across the ground, and the man ends up spitting a tooth out. He coughs a couple of times, but not one of us feels an ounce of remorse for him.

“I want nothing more than to put this bastard in the ground,” Nazyr hisses, his fury going through every part of him. It’s practically oozing off him in waves.

“Rest assured, we will, brother.” Ruslan makes his intentions clear, and the man turns to look at him.

“How do you know I’ve said everything I know?”

“Because if you even valued your life for a second, you would be using it to barter with me. But you’re not. Instead, you’re only aggravating my family, which means only one thing—you don’t know shit. You’re a bottom feeder who was given a job by someone higher up who has someone above them. You’re useless to me and to the rest of us.”

“Useless? I’m not useless! I know so much about what’s to come for your family.”

“Oh? Like what?” Ruslan scoffs at the man, making it seem like he doesn’t believe a good portion of what he’s saying… but I’m certain Ruslan is only baiting this pathetic man.

“They’re supporting your mother as your replacement. She was loyal to Anzor until the very end, and she graciously accepted the offer. She’s even told Eset she has cancer as a way to get close to her again, but it’s all a ploy. Your own mother even believes you’re all in the wrong! How does that feel?”

Out of nowhere, a gunshot rings out, and the man falls to the floor. Lom’s holding the gun, looking at the lifeless man’s body. “It feels like we have everything we need to know.”

Chapter Eighteen

Eset

“Do you have any sort of identity on this man?” my husband asks out of the blue as my brothers stare down at his dead body.

Lom’s the one who steps forward. “Yes, and it’s… interesting, to say the least.”

“How so?” Santos inquires.

“Guerrero Vargas.”

Santos furrows his brows as if he’s deep in thought.

“Why does that seem familiar to you?” I ask my husband.

“My father has a family who is loyal to him. They’re prominent in Mexico, and their surname is Vargas. I’m wondering if Guerrero is part of their family, and if he is, it only further complicates things.” Sure, the now-dead man said things about loyalty to my father, but could my father’s loyalty go outside of Chechnya? Right about now, I’m thinking so.

“This is a massive clusterfuck,” Nazyr says exactly what I’m thinking.

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