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PROLOGUE
ARRAN
Two Years Ago…
“O Lord my God, if during this day I have sinned, whether in word or deed or thought, forgive me all, for thou art good and lovest mankind. Grant me peaceful and undisturbed sleep…” Father Nikolai pauses, his palm pressed to the door of his office, and lowers his head. “O Lord, forgive me. Forgive me.”
Ruslan leans in close enough so that his whispered words are audible only to the priest and me. “There is nothing to forgive when you’re doing the Lord’s will.”
Father Nikolai lifts his milky-blue gaze to him, then looks over his shoulder at me. “Is it the Lord’s will that Yegor dies or yours?”
“Both,” I say. “I’m not here on behalf of your God. But I know he won’t object.”
“He is your God too,” Nikolai says.
“He hasn’t been mine for a long time, Father.”
A bang against the other side of the door, followed by an expletive in Russian has the old man jumping back. “He’s angry.”
“Unlock the door,” I order.
With a shaky hand, he inserts the key and twists. I yank him out of the way as Ruslan storms into the room, slamming into Yegor Petrov with the brute strength of an ox. The men go down onto the cobblestone floor of the church’s cellar, and fists immediately make contact with flesh.
Even though they’re both large and gifted with formidable physical strength, they’re not matched in skill, and Ruslan quickly subdues Yegor. He pins him to the floor with a knee to his neck as he works to bind his arms behind his back.
Yegor’s growls eventually die on his lips as he struggles to breathe, his face turning a deep shade of purple.
“What have I done?” Father Nikolai peers at the brawling men, his hands cupping his wrinkled cheeks.
“What you had to for your parish.” I move into the room and shut the door.
It’s no secret that Yegor has maintained a tight grip over his little slice of Philadelphia. Has kept his neighborhood shielded from intruders. In fact, a quick google search of Wellington Village in Northeast Philadelphia will tell you it’s one of the safest places in the city to live, with low crime rates reported.
But to those who live here, who see the truth, it’s hell on earth. Yegor’s hold on the community, his brutal tactics and demands for the money to “keep them safe” have created an environment full of fear. If they don’t pay, they lose their business or, worse, their life. If they do, they wait in terror until his next visit.
Yet the people under his thumb, the ones who hate him the most, are the very same ones who’ve covered his crimes. They’ve kept quiet about the damage to their stores, the beatings, and even the murders. All because of the fear of being too small and powerless to fight back. The question of whether they can always has them sure they can’t.
It’s the way of the world. Their world, that is.
In mine, however, I don’t have to question whether or not I can squash a bug like Yegor. The real question is, how slowly can I do it to get the most enjoyment out of it? To really feel the thrill of ending his life in a manner befitting his low status.
Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered with a piece of shit like him. But he asked for it when he took the one person who mattered more to me than my own life. One of the few human beings on the planet who deserved to be here.
So I came. I followed the stench to this old Orthodox church where he comes to confess his sins, demand absolution, then conducts his dirty business in the cellar of what he believes is a sanctuary. A place where no one would dare hurt him.
“Hand him over to me, and your parishioners will be free,” I promised Father Nikolai one week ago.
“But he is Bratva” was his reply. “He is not here alone.”
“Is that what he told you?” I smiled at him and gave him my number. “When he comes, call, and I will provide protection. Real protection, Reverend, at no cost to you but a phone call.”
“It will cost me more than that, Arran, and you know it. It will cost me a part of my soul.”
Father Nikolai may believe it’s costing his soul, but he still made the call.
It didn’t take much for my men to overtake Yegor’s lackeys, who had no idea the priest had locked him in the lower level of the church. Now I just have to deal with their stupid leader.
Once he’s secured, Ruslan drags Yegor to a nearby chair, dropping him into it like a sack of potatoes.
