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“That would be us,” Sam says, as he and Ivan walk through the maze entrance.
“How fitting. If it isn’t my traitorous brother and sorry excuse for a son, Samuil. Did you come here to gloat? You’re both so pathetic that you had to let the DeLucas do what you couldn’t.”
“Sometimes, I can’t fathom how you could be my father,” Samuil says in disgust.
“That’s because your blood is weak because of your mother. I should have never made an American my wife, no matter her heritage. In the end, you killed her. That’s when I began to understand just how truly weak her blood was. She couldn’t even give me an heir without dying. It didn’t help that the one she did give me wasn’t worth licking my shoes.”
Sam apparently has heard enough. He brings his gun up and shoots Abram in the shoulders, one at a time. Abram grunts, his body vibrating with pain, but he doesn’t scream. I can almost respect that—almost.
“You can’t even finish killing me. See how weak you are, Samuil? First you give the woman you’ve always loved to the likes of this,” he scoffs, motioning towards me with a little tilt of his head. His hands are limp in his blood-soaked lap. “Now, you can’t even kill the man you hate.”
“I told you, I never loved Angie like that. She was always family, someone who was good to me when my own father was not,” Samuil denies.
His father closes his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s because of his injuries or if he knows he’s going to die and doesn’t care. Perhaps it is in annoyance that his son is arguing with him instead of helping him. I’m just not sure.
“That’s another problem with you, Samuil. You form emotional attachments. You’ll never be a leader because you can’t see beyond your own blindness.”
I ignore the father and son argument when Ivan Levkin enters my line of vision. He stands still, watching his brother and his nephew, not really moving. He somehow looks impeccable, despite having been in a gunfight and running the vast estate to find Abram. His arms are behind his back as he keeps looking at his brother in disgust.
“Dear brother,” Abram mocks. “Have you come to shoot me? Then, do it and be done. It could hurt no worse than your betrayal.”
“Sorry, Abe. You’re not worth the bullets.”
“Use my full name,” Abram demands weakly. Ivan ignores him as he pulls out a sword from behind him.
I guess that explains why he hadn’t moved his hands. I don’t even want to know how he carried that damn thing all the way here. I don’t really get intimidated anymore. I’ve lived through and done too much. I can admit, however, that Ivan Levkin is an intimidating motherfucker. He has dirty blonde-mostly brown hair. He’s covered in ink and has the body of a street fighter, and that alone is in direct contrast to the dark pressed suit, white silk shirt, and expensive shoes he is wearing. The bastard looks cool and calm.
“I am going to kill you. I need your head. You gave me the idea, you know,” he says, as if this is an everyday conversation. “I’m going to take your head and use it to make sure everyone knows there’s a new era of leadership here in the US for the Bratva. Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure all of your little lap dogs understand my message clearly.” He walks over to his brother then, sword in tow. He leans down so his mouth is near Abram’s ear and whispers something to him in Russian. I have no idea what he’s saying, but I can admit to being curious.
Ivan positions himself, then swings the sword violently. It slices through Abram’s neck like it was nothing more than hot butter. The head falls immediately, rolling to the ground in abloody, gruesome mess. Abram’s ugly face is frozen in terror. I look at Samuil to see what his response is to seeing his father like that. He just turns and leaves. I guess a man like Abram did nothing to earn loyalty or care.
Ivan grabs his brother’s head by the hair, carrying it and the now bloody sword. I follow behind, wondering if I will ever find Adam Dolan. He’s the one I want to make suffer. When I exit the maze, Ivan is sitting in a golf cart, Abram’s head at his feet.I guess that explains how they got here looking like they hadn’t even sweated.
Samuil walks over to me, clearing his throat. “You drive, Victor. I’ll sit on the back. I’d rather not even sit beside any piece of the scum that was supposed to be my father.” I nod as I go around Sam, giving him my back as I shift to get in behind the wheel of the cart.
“Victor, watch out!” Sam yells from the back of the cart.
I turn just as a man steps out of the maze, gun aimed at me and smirking. There’s no need to move. If he goes for my head, I’m already dead. Samuil has other plans, though. He lets out an unholy scream and tackles the man with a stone statue of a turtle—one of many that have been placed along the border of the maze. He slams it into the other man’s head as he takes him down, knocking the gun so the shot is off kilter and I hear the bullet wiz over my head. I take my gun out as Sam rolls off the now unconscious—maybe dead—man with blood oozing from the side of his head.
Hope ignites inside of me. “Is this…”
Samuil nods, his voice hoarse. “It’s Adam Dolan.”
I finally smile.“Let’s throw him in the back and you can keep your gun trained on him until I can get him tied up. I have plans for this bastard.”Samuil works with me and then hops on the back seat. I pick up Adam’s gun, before getting into the golf cart. “It seems I owe you one.”
Sam shrugs. “Just make Angie happy. That’s all the thanks I need. Besides, you would have done the same for me.”
I pretend to think about it and shrug as I guide the golf cart back to the house.“I would have thought about it maybe,” I allow. Ivan laughs and Sam does, too. They probably think I’m joking. They don’t understand that I picture him trying to kiss my woman often. I probably wouldn’t have saved him at all, but I don’t explain. “Before we get back to the house, I have to ask Ivan. What did you say to your brother before you killed him?”
Ivan smirks. “I told him in the end there could be only one.”
“You did not quote Highlander,” I laugh.
He shrugs with a grin still in place. “He loved that movie. Watched it a million fucking times. It’s the only reason I carted this damn sword everywhere for the last three months, waiting for my opportunity.”
I shake my head. When we get back to the house, Ivan tells me to drive around to the wedding venue. That’s where all of our so-called allies which have been working with Abram are at the moment. Other allies are there too, but it’s good for everyone to see what happens when you cross the Levkins, I suppose. Ivan gets out, snatching the hair of Abram’s head in his grasp. He walks to the center of the room and drops his head down without care.
“It seems someone decided to end my brother’s life tonight. Officially myself, Mikhail, Victor, and my nephew Samuil will be leading this family forward. I would hope you all realize what happens when someone crosses not only my family, but those who are family by marriage to our beloved Angelina. There is now a strong alliance between us and the DeLucas. You cross one, you cross all. He kicks Abram’s head toward the ones that have aligned themselves with Abram. Meandering along the bloody path left in its wake until he makes it to where the head stopped. He picks it up, leaning into a few of the guests thatare standing there. “Boo!” he yells in their face, shaking Abram’s head at them, as the congealed blood splatters over their fine clothes. Then, with a laugh, he tosses the head to one of his security team. “Clean up, aisle seven,” he yells, before walking out. Antonio is now standing beside me. Samuil is still in the golf cart, gun pointed at Adam. “I think I like him. I should send him a present for mentioning our family too. Hmm... What does he like, Sammy?” I glance over my shoulder at Sam as Antonio does the same.
