For men like us, it’s a fate worse than death.
“As I said, the only thing I want is assurance that your family won’t put mine in harm’s way again.”
He rolls his neck, like he’s trying to fight demons off his back, and I know I’ve got him.
“Fine,” he bites out, jaw tight, like I’ve talked him into selling himself out instead of making a reasonable offer. “But only after he’s dead. Until then, they’re fair game.”
Trusting his word is tortuous, but I have no choice.
“Deal.”
Chapter 28
Andrei
The last time Maksim summoned me, he’d pulled back on his amount of security significantly, which means I just need to find a way to get the remaining men to look the other way when I show up.
The sun has set, but I don’t like the odds of trying to sneak onto the property unnoticed.
I need to get this done and over with as soon as possible. Blair and Niko are safe with Alexei for now, but I can’t discount the possibility that Marcell won’t have me followed just so he can strike before I get a chance to hold up my end of the deal.
Which means I’m not going back to Blair until Maksim is dead.
One of the few upsides to having a paranoid, increasingly unstable pakhan is that he’ll need me to clean up a mess for him soon enough. I just need to be patient and find a way to keep his security from knowing I’m there.
His calls are daily, bordering on hourly over the past couple weeks, and for once, I’m glad when my phone rings, turningtoward his house before I even hang up on him. His words are slurred, barely comprehensible as he screams through the line. If circumstances were different, I’d add it to the list of things Maksim’s done to piss me off.
Right now, I hope he’s fucking wasted. Hell, I hope he’s gone on such a rampage, made such a mess, that no one will notice another body added to the pile.
I pull up to the gate, but the gatehouse is dark. With rising suspicion, I drive along the driveway, but there are no guards wandering around, no men watching the front door. The bottom floor is dark. Half expecting to walk into carnage, I’m pleasantly surprised to find the inside clean, all the way until I find Maksim in his office.
Maybe it’s my lucky day after all.
There’s only a single corpse on the floor, and for the first time in weeks, I don’t recognize them. Maksim’s slumped forward at his desk, glass forgotten as he takes a swig straight from the bottle, pressing it against a spot where his eye is starting to swell shut with a bruise. He doesn’t react to my presence, doesn’t even seem to realize that we’re alone.
Whoever this was, at least they put up a fight. Even if they were only brave enough because Maksim smells like a distillery, it’s better than the sea of bodies that were too frightened to defend themselves that I’ve cleaned up over the years.
Every inch of space Maksim’s ever consumed has been a waste. He’s only ever been a spoiled, angry child who faceplanted into power and never learned to be content with it. His constant struggle for more money and glory will be what defines his life.
His legacy will be bloodshed.
As long as Maksim is alive, he’ll never cease to ruin everything and everyone he perceives as a threat to his ego. And through my association with him, he’ll always be a threat to me.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going todosomething?” His voice is slurred, barely coherent in his drunken haze. I’ve been standing here for several minutes, but he’s acting like I’ve just arrived, his bleary eyes watching me as I take in the destruction.
The remains of a vase lie in front of one of the broken bookshelves, shattered in a hundred beautifully decorated, ornate pieces. There’s blood spattered across the crushed velvet chairs, already drying and ruining the fabric. Everything is in ruins, a shell of what it once was.
“I’m curious about what happened,” I say with a shrug, picking one of the shards up.
“I’m not paying you to be curious,” he wheezes through his broken nose as he takes another swig. He’s swaying from side to side, even while sitting.
“How the hell did you manage to take him down?” I can’t stop myself from asking as I tilt my head toward the body on the floor. Decorum is wasted at this point, and I’m not going to force myself to bother with it. “You’re blind drunk, and he looks like he was a healthy young man. So, how’d you do it?”
He drops the bottle to the ground and places his hands weakly on the desk, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon as he pushes himself up. Even then, he still sways, like a stiff breeze could push him over.
“Are you so numb that you don’t feel anything?” I continue. The body’s neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, limbs akimbo. “Wait, let me guess. You didn’t kill him at all, did you? He fell, hit his head, and you snapped his neck when he passed out.”
He takes a couple of shuffling steps toward me, clinging to the edge of the desk for support. “Want to try that again,pizda?”
