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“You’re right. I’m better than you for many other reasons.” I lift my arm and tug my sleeve up, revealing the snowstorm of black dots on the inside of my wrist. “I keep a tally of men I’ve killed here. It’s not quite up to date, but it’s close enough.”
The rest of the room is getting quieter. I know my voice is carrying in the warehouse, but I don’t give a flying fuck. If this asshole wants to make an example of himself, I’m happy to oblige. The more who see it, the merrier.
“You’re probably more forgiving than I am, too. More patient, for sure.” I give him a flat shark’s smile. “Because when people who don’t know their place start to run their mouths to me, I get angry. I get very, very angry.” I’m pacing closer to him now as I speak, each word dribbling out of my lips like drops of blood. “And when I get angry, I start adding dots to my collection. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Hey, man, easy,” he says. He’s starting to sense the tide changing. His moment of bravado has passed and a lifetime of regret is about to follow. However much of a lifetime he has left, that is. He shifts back half a step. “I didn’t mean—”
“Timofey,” Akim interrupts, floating in next to me. “Making new friends?”
“I’m giving our friend here a lesson. I’m almost done, actually.”
Akim blows out a breath. “Okay. Great. Well, skip to the end, please.”
I can tell by the tone of his voice that he knows what’s coming. But he has the good sense to stay out of my way.
“Lastly,” I say, reaching into my holster and pulling out my gun, “I’d bet I’m a much better shot.”
The blast echoes off the cement floor and metal roof. It’s a hollow, grating echo broken up only by the thud of the man’s body hitting the floor with a bloody hole where his right eye once was.
For a second, there is no movement. Everyone is too stunned to breathe.
Then chaos erupts.
Shouts bounce off the walls in Russian and Albanian. Some men scatter; others draw closer. I hear Akim curse just as the soldiers in front of me split and Arber Xhuvani comes running through the line.
“What thefuck, Timofey?” he bellows. The heir to the Albanian throne looks down at his dead soldier, his nostrils flared and eyes wild.
I pocket my gun. “I hope you brought along some towels, Arber. Bit of a mess there.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Your man was out of line,” I explain. “I nudged him back into place as an example to the others.”
“This is what a nudge looks like?” Arber looks like he is about to burst. This is only the third time he’s headed up an arms deal without his father present. Kreshnik has been training his son since he was too small to speak to take over for him, and now that Arber has come of age, they’re finally beginning that transition of power.
“If you’d rather use a gentler approach, catch your men before they speak to me. Your father never would have let something like this happen.”
“My father isn’t here,” he snaps.
“Which is the entire fucking problem,” I snarl. “Get control of your soldiers before I have to do it for you.”
Arber crosses the distance between us in a few strides, bringing his chest to mine. “Is that a threat? Are you looking to overthrow my family? I’ll make sure you don’t live to regret it if you try.”
Only youthful pride could make this idiot believe I’d want anything at all to do with the Xhuvani mafia. Unfortunately, Arber has plenty of that to spare.
In a flash, I wrap a hand around his neck and use the other to press my gun to his temple. He tenses up. His breath is trapped in his throat.
“Hey, Timofey,” Akim says, his voice laughably casual. “I think we’ve made enough friends tonight.”
“My finger is off the trigger,” I tell him. Then I turn my full attention to the Kreshnik boy. “I just want Arber here to know that if I wasn’t in such a good mood, he could be dead right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Arber rasps.
I arch my brows. “I’d advise you not to fuck with me.”
He swallows uncomfortably. His throat bobs in my palm. “If you kill me, it will be war.”
“A war I’ll win. I have nothing to lose.”
