Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
His poor mother’s a mess. I’ll take care of her, but Damian was an only child. I doubt she’ll ever get past it, and that’s the tragedy of our way of life. We take these risks, live these violent fantasies, and sometimes death breaks the wrong way. Death takes the wrong man.
Damian’s gone. Murdered by the Irish. It was bad enough that they tried to take away my wife, but they killed a man I deeply respected on top of it.
I’m not the type to wallow in mourning, but I have a piece of Damian still caught in my chest, and I’m not sure if he’ll ever work himself free.
At least until my hands are drenched in Irish blood.
Alexan’s good at what he does. I can see a worthwhile partnership with him forming one day, but right now, he’s just too new. I respect his skills and his demeanor, but we don’t know each other well enough yet. I hope to fix that soon. Unfortunately, he’s been thrown into a volatile situation, and I have to trust that he can handle it.
I sink down in my seat, push away these depressing memories, and think about Dasha and that goddamn door instead until we reach the warehouse. It’s on the edge of the city, out in the more suburban area, not that far from the family mansion. The place looks like any other storage facility, just with more cameras and more barbed wire.
There are other cars. Several Brotherhood guards linger out front and nod as I walk past.
I spot Arsen waiting just in the lobby, speaking with some of the uncles. They greet me respectfully, and Arsen pulls me aside.
“How bad?” I ask him quietly. We walk together toward the large warehouse floor. Hundreds of racks filled with boxes stretch out into the distance.
“They knew where to look,” he says as we go straight toward the far corner. Most of the shipments that come through here are legitimate. Computer equipment, for the most part. Processors, graphics cards, shit like that. We have a Bitcoin mining operation running in the basement, using all the excess pieces we’ve imported over the years to cover up our real operations.
Those boxes are in shambles. Dozens of them are torn to pieces, left empty and tossed aside, their contents missing.
“How much?” I ask him, my jaw tightening with anger.
“Almost all of it.”
My feet go cold as his words sink in.
This can’t be happening.
One major pillar of our business is the drug trade. Cocaine, crystal, heroin, whatever sells. Minus fentanyl, since a dead customer can’t come back for more. But if it was all taken—
“That’s going to set us back months,” I say, rage rushing through me.
“They came fast. Disabled two specific cameras. Cut a hole in the fence. Came straight here.” Arsen kicks a box, looking grim. “Sona’s already out talking to the other street bosses, trying to locate where they stashed it.”
I don’t even need him to say who it was. I already know, and I’m shaking with anger.
First, they try to kill my wife. Then they steal my fucking product.
The cockroaches are going to pay with their lives.
“There’s more,” Arsen says. He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. “This was left here.”
My name is scrawled at the very top. I stare down at the writing, my heart hammering in my ears.
Tigran, you shouldn’t have fucked with us. Now we’re going to get rich on your hard work, and we’re still going to murder that bitch of a Russian wife. Cheers to you, cocksucker. See you soon, Ciaran and Oisin.
I shove the paper back at Arsen. He takes it, folding it carefully, and stashes it away. I pace toward the empty boxes and rip one into pieces, tearing the thick cardboard until my forearms hurt. My brother watches silently until I’m finished.
“You have to kill them,” he says simply. No emotion in his tone. Only a direct order.
“I know that,” I say, already imagining their blood dripping between my fingers.
Their lives are already forfeit. They went after my fucking wife. I was hunting them down, but this is only making it worse.
This is a fucking embarrassment. It makes the whole Brotherhood look weak and ineffective. If the Irish can break in here and take what’s ours, then anyone else could do it too.
Which means I have to make an example of the fucking twins.
A bloody, ugly example. The sort of brutality the city will talk about for decades to come.
“Soon, Tigran. I have everyone out listening. Make sure that fake butler of yours has his spy network on it too.”
I nod at my brother grimly. “I’ll handle it,” I tell him, already shooting a text to Vito.
Put all your resources on finding Ciaran and Oisin. Top priority.
I shove my phone away only to realize with cold horror that Dasha is all alone back at the house.