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My smile fadeswhen I see the look on Rurik’s face as he hurries into the underground garage toward me. “Is Larissa okay?” I ask in a whisper.
“Your sister is fine.” He nods. “And she’s still happily married to me.”
I don’t conceal my thoughts from Rurik. He’s one of the few people I trust without hesitation. “What’s going on?”
“The Lanzzare are moving fast in the wake of the bombing.” Rurik quickly drops the levity. “This time, the ports.”
“Boroughs or Jersey?” I ask.
“Jersey. They’re relying on the distance to get away with their shit.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that far away.” My father fought tooth and nail to keep the Lanzzare out of his territory, but they’re eager to exploit the void, as they did last night.
The bomb at the gallery wasn’t a threat. It was a wake-up call.
“Ready for some payback?” I ask.
“Always.” A vicious grin spreads across Rurik’s face. “Let’s teach them a lesson.”
I can’t help but match his enthusiasm. Long before Rurik married Larissa, he watched over both me and my older brother Matvei. I wonder what my brother would think of me now.
No time for dark thoughts; it’s time to act.
Gunsyn has been watching us from a distance, pretending to fumble with the keys to his Mercedes while his driver makes himself invisible. He only approaches when Rurik steps away. “Pakhan, you should let Rurik take care of it. You had a long night, and I’m sure he can do it.”
I get into Gunsyn’s face. “And miss all the fun myself?”
“I don’t mean disrespect, pakhan,” he replies, offering a nod of respect that does little to cool my anger. “The Lanzzare have already made a move. They expect blowback of some sort. And fatigue has killed more men than any knife or gun.”
“I’m a young man,” I square up against Gunsyn’s worn face. “Fatigue doesn’t hit me as hard as it does you.”
He backs away with a scowl. “I’ll wait up for you with the others, pakhan.” He gives a slight bow and then disappears into the elevator.
“Nikolai, we’re ready,” Rurik informs me.
“Let’s do this,” I nod as I step into the first Mercedes SUV. “And let’s make sure they never forget it.”
One by one, the bulletproof SUVs drive up the ramp from the underground garage into the dark streets, weaving in andout of the shadows like sharks through the unlit sea. Their electric engines are hardly a whisper as we move toward Lower Manhattan. My armed men surround me, each one stone-faced and ready for violence. As we drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, I can feel the electricity in the air.
I hope the Lanzzare see,I think viciously as I check my guns.Let them see and let them fear.
We arrive at the Lanzzare warehouse, where they’re housingourstolen goods. It’s time to strike and strike hard. My men dismount, moving with practiced precision. Rurik has trained his soldiers well.
Anton holds his gun with reverence as he eyes the darkened warehouse. “Permission to go first, Nikolai Gennadyevich.”
“We go together.” I nod. “I want to see the looks on their self-satisfied faces when they realize they fucked up tonight.”
It takes but a second for the madness to begin.
Gunfire erupts, deafening and relentless, as we tear through the warehouse. The Lanzzare scramble for cover, but their surprise is evident. Some manage to make it behind cover. Most don’t. Bodies fall to the ground amidst the din. A few attempt to shoot back, but Rurik has already flanked them.
A staccato burst of gunfire, and he flashes the all-clear signal.
“Push forward!” Rurik bellows.
The ear-splitting bangs fill the air. My gun kicks against my palm with each pull of the trigger. Blood and bone splatter against the walls like a Pollock painting. In my rage, I become a painter who only uses red.
Behind an overturned desk, a man raises a bloodied shirt of surrender. I hold up my hand, and slowly, silence returns.
