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I shook my head and grinned at him. We weren’t going to risk firing at Ivanov and missing. No, we were going to wait until he settled in his car, and then Nicu would launch an airburst smart grenade and blow the whole thing up. There’d be nothing left of Ivanov to identify afterward, unless one counted bits and pieces of him splattered on the stoops and façades of the brownstones on either side of the blast.
This was going to be phenomenal. It was deadly. It was bloody, but hey, we weren’t nice guys. Never would be. Blood and sin were seared on our hearts for eternity.
“Yeah, we’re gonna survive this, aren’t we?” I said.
A big, wide smile spread over his face, his ice-cold blue eyes dancing with glee. “Yeah, we are.”
He patted it. “I’ll have to abandon her here so we can make a run for it afterward, but it’s a worthy sacrifice.”
I wasn’t one for cracking smiles, but how could I abstain with fortune on my side? Now, we could kill two birds with one stone. I stowed away my weapon, and we waited, crouched and hidden. We were done talking. It was time to hunt. A cold, brisk wind picked up, skating over our hoodies. Anticipation zipped through me, through us. The scent of the imminent kill permeated our nostrils.
The minutes passed one after the other, boredom and alertness two sides of the same coin. A pigeon landed on the edge of the roof, walking with its wonky bob and head thrust a few feet away from us. With a coo and a strut, it pecked at the asphalt.
We could be there for another minute or a few hours, there was no way to know. As it turned out, about ten minutes later, they came down together. Perfect.
“Here we go,” muttered Nicu softly.
An edgy excitement thrummed through me as Nicu set up his little army-grade toy, and when the two men were sealed into the Range Rover, I tensed. He pulled the trigger.
The explosion sent us scrambling backward, covering our heads. The noise from the blast rang in my ears, and it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer at my head. We clambered to our feet, booked it at a full run, and hurdled over the low walls separating every building, pounding the black tarmac of the roofs. Reaching the door I’d left propped open, we flew down five flights of stairs and sped down the street to our individual cars.
Still in full-sprint mode, my hands shook as I dug out my keys and clicked the door open. Slamming it shut behind me, I revved the engine and tore down the street, Luca and Nicu behind me. Making a sharp turn onto Ocean Parkway, I nodded to Nicu as he ripped past me, and that was it. The last time I’d ever see the men I’d spent every day of my life with since I was a kid.
Once I was out of Bratva territory, I slowed down, turned onto a random street, and turned off the engine. I dropped my head and sputtered out a stunned breath. I was still alive. It was over. The first thing I wanted to do was text Clara, but I forced my hands onto the steering wheel and gripped it hard to stop myself. She was better off without me and my stained reputation. I was alive, but I was still no good to her.
I abandoned the car and made my way to the subway, texting one word to Alex.
Done.
The deed was done, but so was my life as I knew it. My mother and sister would remain in the Lupu clan, but I would roam the world like the lost soul I was. They’d be cut off from me. Sure, I might get the chance to see them on a rare occasion, but my daily life with them evaporated like a puff of smoke.
Waiting on the subway platform, I looked around me in wonder. I was alive, but I’d never step foot on a concrete New York City sidewalk again. Not after today.
When you’ve lost almost everyone and everything you loved, when you’ve almost lost your life, you don’t have any fucks left to give.I couldn’t sacrifice more. I’d done my best for others, and my best came around to bite me in the ass. I was done doing for others. In this new reality, I only wanted one thing.
Clara.
I was a man carrying the equivalent of a scarlet letter A, a man with a target on his back. I should leave well enough alone, but I knew, deep in my bones, that even if she was better off without me, I couldn’t let her go. Not without a fight.
Considering I was talking about Clara, it would no doubt be a fight.
Thinking of her, I checked the tracking app I’d installed on her phone.
What I saw brought the sensation of fire ants spawning on my skin. I scratched, leaving jagged red marks on my arms and chest, raw and bloody.
The dot of her phone on the GPS had moved from LA to Malibu—where Grigore lived.
Fuck. No.
