He wasn’t going to kill Luca. Not now. Not ever. He’d sacrifice himself for him if it came to it, but his death wasn’t a sure warranty for Luca’s safety.
So they both had to get out alive. In other words, he had to make this kill look as real as possible. No hesitation. No mercy.
A real execution would mean a clean, instant kill. That’s what they expected Fedya to give them. And Fedya knew just how closely they were watching, how perceptive they were to easily root him out of his game.
So he had to be subtle.
The perfect fake-kill.
Fedya’s lips lifted slightly as he tilted his arm just slightly and pulled the trigger easily enough to miss Luca’s heart and instead fire into his vascular corridor near his shoulder, where Luca’s subclavian artery ran. The boom of the shot echoed in the space around them, and Fedya watched with a blank stare as Luca’s body jerked violently, his head lolling to the side as blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the concrete.
He was dead to anyone but Fedya.
And now he had to act fast before Luca would bleed to death. He was already in a bad shape when he was dragged here.
Fedya lowered the gun but didn’t take his hands off it, masking the tension in his chest beneath a mask of cold indifference. Time was a ticking time bomb in his head, quickly calculating the time he could spare?no,risk?before he completely lost Luca. He flicked the safety back on and turned to face Cormac.
“There,” Fedya said, raising his brows like this was just another regular exercise for him. There wasn’t even a single hint of emotion in his voice. “Clean shot. No jams. Just like I promised.”
Cormac’s gaze didn’t move from the body. He waited a few seconds?seconds that ticked dangerously, rattling against Fedya’s skull?before dragging his eyes back to Fedya. The men beside him seemed impressed, and Cormac’s lips lifted only barely.
Fedya could tell he wasn’t entirely impressed or convinced.
The seconds ticked louder in Fedya’s head?tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock.
There was a beat of silence before mild amusement flickered in his cruel eyes.
“You really are a cold bastard, aren’t you?” Cormac said, a smirk playing at his lips. “But tell me, Jonathan. Why should I take your word for it?”
“You do or you don’t,” Fedya answered boldly. Perhaps a little too boldly, but it was working. “And I want his body as a trophy. I like to document my kills.”
That got a more prominent reaction. The men around him shifted, exchanging glances. Liam’s smile dimmed a little, his eyes growing more cautious as he regarded Fedya like he was looking at a new person. A person who may or may not be a threat.
“You want a trophy?” Cormac mused, leaning forward. “You want a real prize, Jonathan? I can give you a real prize.” He leaned even closer, enough for Fedya to catch the whiskey in his breath. “You give me the stock and I give you my daughter.”
The Irishmen around them stirred, some grinning, some murmuring. Liam let out a low whistle, cocking his head as he glanced back at their Boss.
Fedya’s grip on the gun tightened. His eye twitched slightly as Cormac’s words landed in his guts like a punch. “What?”
Cormac spread his hands like he was explaining simple maths. “Honestly, the girl is a weight I’ve been meaning to let off my fingers for a while now. This isn’t just any deal anymore, Jonathan. It’s an opportunity. You prove your worth, and I get access to your weapons. In return, you get a place in the family.” His smirk widened. “Through blood. It’s worth more than any money you could ever receive.”
What the hell?
Fedya’s jaw locked. He had prepared for negotiations, power plays, intimidation, but this was yet another move he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t a stranger to the ruthless criminal ways and had witnessed his brothers’ and cousins’ peculiar love stories come to life, but selling your own daughter? Damn it.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
The complications just kept piling up.
And he couldn’t waste time debating it.Fuck, Luca was still next to him, and he only had a few minutes left.
Fedya shook his head, trying to get out of this trap without raising any flags. “That’s a little too gracious, Cor?”
But Cormac was already cutting him off by clasping a hand on his shoulder, his grip steely. “Not to worry, Jonathan. This is quite a customary thing in our world, and it’s a privilege to be welcomed into a family like ours in such an intimate way. So, what do you say? You want a real investment in this business?” His voice dropped lower, grating and callous. “Or do you still want your trophy?”
Fuck, Fedya thought, his jaw tightening. He couldn’t risk a glance at Luca, but he needed to wrap this up now. And it didn’t look like Cormac was going to let him walk out of here without agreeing to accept his prize.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
