Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Sergei!”
Sasha’s sharp voice instantly shatters our moment. We spring apart as Sasha’s footsteps thunder closer.
“What is it?” Sergei asks stiffly, not even attempting to hide his annoyance.
Sasha barely spares me a glance before grabbing his brother’s arm and tugging him aside. “We have a problem. You need to come now.”
“What kind of problem?” Sergei asks, but I don’t catch Sasha’s answer—they’re already striding away.
Sergei turns back and mouths a quick “sorry.” I shrug and lean against the trellis, watching him go.
13
SERGEI
Sasha doesn’t say a word as we move through the house, and I already know any reason he has for interrupting Nicole and me can’t be good. I’d made it very clear earlier in the day that we weren’t to be bothered.
We pass the back doors and head toward the side entrance that leads straight into my office. I shoot one last glance back toward the garden, though I can’t see Nicole from this angle. Once the door to my office closes behind us, I turn on my heel.
“What the hell is going on?” I growl.
Sasha tosses his phone onto my desk, frustration crackling in the air.
“One of our shipments was hit tonight,” he answers gravely, his own frustration palpable.
“Hit how?” I ask as my body tenses.
“It was ambushed near the docks off Thirty-Fifth,” he says, his tone flat. “Same setup as always: two trucks, five of our men, full protocol. But they still got hit.”
I circle the desk and unlock the secure cabinet, grabbing the burner phone I use only for internal logistics.
“Any casualties?” I ask, holding my breath and praying there aren’t.
“Four injured. One dead,” he says, trying to mask his own emotion.
My fingers curl into the edge of the desk until my knuckles go white. This shouldn’t have happened.
“Who?”
“Valentin,” he says quietly.
I close my eyes briefly, letting the grief hit me just for a moment. He was just a kid, eager to learn and always loyal. Worse, I’d promised his father I’d look after him when he joined the ranks. No matter who killed him, his death is squarely on my shoulders. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to dwell on my own feelings. That’s the nature of the business.
“What happened to the shipment?” I ask.
“It’s gone.”
“All of it?” I ask, enraged.
Sasha nods. “Every crate is gone like we never loaded the trucks at all.”
I pace behind my desk, clenching my teeth. This couldn’t have been a random act. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. Our routes are regularly rotated, our deliveries are staggered, and only a few people know where they’ll be at any given time. Whoever pulled this off had our playbook.
“How did they get past the alert system?” I wonder aloud.
“They disabled it.” The certainty in Sasha’s voice lands like a punch. At least he’s taking this seriously. “They cut the lines before anyone even knew they were close. In and out in minutes. A clean hit.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. My mind races through every possible name, every rival crew bold enough to make a move like this. One name keeps popping up as the obvious contender.
Semion.
“You think Semion would be that bold?” Sasha asks, reading my expression the way only a brother can.
I don’t answer right away. Jumping to any conclusions could be disastrous in this line of work. We don’t move on another crew’s territory unless we’re certain they hit first. Semion’s crew has been too quiet lately, though. And when men like him go quiet, it usually means they’re planning something big.
“I think it reeks of him,” I tell him honestly. “But we’re not doing anything until I have proof.”
Sasha moves to the liquor cabinet in the corner, pouring two fingers of vodka into a glass before bringing it to me. I down it all in one swallow.
We fall silent for a moment, each of us turning over the implications of this attack on our relationship with Semion’s Bratva. He could be testing our defenses, probing for weakness. Or worse—this might be only a warning before something bigger.
“And if it wasn’t Semion?” Sasha asks after draining his vodka.
“Then we have a bigger problem,” I say. “Someone we don’t even know is after us, and we don’t have the bandwidth for that right now.”
The idea that there’s someone out there smart enough and well-equipped enough to move like this without us noticing until it’s too late infuriates me. That level of precision doesn’t come from street punks or wannabe gangs. It comes from men with decades of experience, who have endless resources.
“We need to tighten up the whole operation,” I say, walking back to my desk. “We won’t have any more blind drops. Double the guards. Rotate drivers mid-route. Encrypt every damn thing, even internally. This can’t ever happen again.”
“I’ll handle it,” Sasha says. “By the way, I’m really sorry about ruining your night. Shitty timing.”