Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
But it’s me, so of course that’s what he will get.
“I want to come,” I interject, feeling the rush of adrenaline surge through my bloodstream. “I need to see this through. I want to come.”
Z meets my gaze, his expression serious, and both he and Rodion speak as one. “Someone needs to stay with Roza.”
Fuck, they’re right.
“Trust us to take care of this,” Rodion pleads, his voice strained and the lines on his forehead deepening as he looks into my eyes with a mixture of urgency and sincerity.
I do trust them. I trust them more than anyone else in this world. A flutter of anxiety stirs in my stomach as if it prepares to erupt at any moment.
“Okay,” I reply finally, nodding slowly. “Please be careful.”
“Let’s go,” Z commands.
And then they’re gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zahkar
We pulled all our resources into finding out who this piece of shit is. And, yes, that includes enlisting our father, who was infuriated with Yuri’s brass balls for sending someone to spy on us. Things back home are already on rocky ground, and Yuri is losing friends quicker than he did children.
We plan to deal with him when the time presents itself.
According to our father, the nun girl was the daughter of Yuri’s most deadly henchman, Alexey Maiburov. From what information is out there, he went AWOL a couple of years ago, and his brother Sergei took his place as Yuri’s top dog. Sergei’s niece, Alexey’s daughter, was brought into the fold.
“We should have changed into something a bit more breathable,” Rodion complains, loosening his collar.
“Viktor said to come straight away.” I take the next turn on the GPS, almost bouncing out of my seat with eagerness. I want to end this motherfucker painfully.
“A storage unit?” Rodion questions, tilting his head toward the large sign emblazoned with SECURE STASH, as our GPS announces the arrival at our destination. “Look there.” He gestures toward Viktor, who leans casually against a weathered blue shipping container, his impeccable suit contrasting abruptly with the industrial surroundings.
We pull the car up and step out, taking a moment to absorb the scene before us.
The area is filled with row upon row of freight containers, painted in various colors. There’s no one else around, but there are mechanical noises in the distance of containers being moved. The air carries a faint scent of metal and rust mixed with a hint of diesel. Nestled next to the blue container is the white van that had been outside Alyona’s.
“I’ve had the manager disable the video surveillance for the next hour,” Viktor announces, looking over at us while running a hand through his hair. “Shall we?”
“How did you find him?” I ask, watching him unlock the unit.
“I didn’t,” he replies casually, glancing back at me. “He found me. He thought I would give him information. That was a fatal error on his part.” A smirk forms on the corner of his lips.
“You’ve killed him already?” I ask, disappointment deflating my excitement from moments before.
Chuckling, he leans toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His tone drops an octave as his smile turns into a predatory, vicious grin, much like mine. “And deny you the honors?”
A thrill surges through my body, and I nod toward the container. “Let’s play.”
Sergei is strapped to a chair in the middle of the container that has a bed situated toward the back end, a bunch of video monitors pointed toward it.
“Do we want to know?” I ask, raising a brow at the bed.
“Other business, not yours.” He juts his chin at Sergei. “He’s yours.”
“Still being a disappointment to your father all the way across the pond.” Sergei spits, the white, foamy fluid lands at Viktor’s feet. “Predatel.” Traitor.
“Traitor?” Viktor sneers incredulously. “I owe no loyalty to you or Yuri. Poshel na khuy.” Go fuck yourself.
Blood oozes from a cut on Sergei’s lip, a bruise blossoming over his right eye. Viktor must have had to get handsy to get him here. To look at Viktor’s clean appearance, you wouldn’t think it.
“Where’s your brother?” Rodion asks, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off, folding it and placing it on the ground near the door away from Sergei. Both Viktor and I observe with appreciation the planes of creamy deliciousness he’s put on display.
“You killed him.” Sergei narrows his eyes in disgust. We exchange confused looks, and Sergei tips his head back. “No fucking way your bitch did it.” He roars against the restraints, almost knocking the chair over while trying to escape, but he fails.
Dumdumdumdumdum.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Rodion slaps him across the face. Not a punch, a fucking slap, and the man’s pupils expand like a rising tide swallowing everything else.
“Where is my niece?” Sergei demands, sweat running down his bald head, his muscles tensing against the restraints.
“Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll tell you where she is,” I offer, rolling my neck over my shoulders.