Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 97448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“That’s fair enough.”
Is it wrong that I take solace in the fact that Anton also fell for Kirill’s charms? He probably also hesitated because he didn’t want to hurt him.
And he thought that maybe Uncle Albert’s evidence wasn’t absolute.
My brother clutches me by the shoulder. “Can I count on you for this?”
I nod.
“There can’t be any mistakes, Sasha.”
“I know. We’ll finally get revenge.”
“Finally,” he says with a level of conviction similar to my own. Barely there. Dismal. Filled with tension that neither of us will admit the reason behind. “We’ll go back home after this.”
“What’s the point, though?”
“What?”
“Babushka and Uncle want us to keep fighting within Russia. Take up arms again and go against the government. We’ll have to train men and spend the rest of our lives in a hopeless attempt to gain back control.”
“We’re getting revenge.”
“I’m so sick and tired of that word. Aren’t you?”
“It’s my duty.”
“Well, it’s not mine anymore. This is the last thing I’ll do for the family. I won’t spend the rest of my life chasing a pipe dream or stand by and watch Mike being groomed into another version of you.”
He sighs deeply. “You’re awfully outspoken today.”
“I learned from Maks.”
His jaw clenches, but his mask soon slips back into place. “Let’s get this over with first and then we’ll talk.”
The plan is fairly simple.
According to the intel Uncle Albert gathered, Kirill is having a meeting with one of the higher-ups in the Irish mafia here.
They’ve been at odds with the Bratva for all their lives, but the new leader is somehow fond of Kirill and is apparently ready to end the war. His beef was with the Sokolovs, as in, Sergei and his brother before him, but now that Kirill is Pakhan, the equation is changing.
Ironically, Kirill was the one who incited the war in the first place, just so he could keep his promise to Damien to give him something entertaining.
Now, he’ll use this chance to engrave his position as the best leader the Bratva could ever have. The others won’t have a reason to vote him out if he’s bringing both peace and profits.
His dream of leadership is finally coming true. At least up until now.
Because I’ll shatter everything he’s worked for—including his life.
Anton and the other men will intercept Kirill’s guards while I take care of him.
Just me.
After Anton and I separate, I climb a tree near the cliff and position my rifle in front of me. I’m not going to shoot him from a distance. No, I’ll do it while looking into his cold eyes.
This is in case someone else intervenes.
Anton and the others have my back, but something could go wrong.
I sent a text to Maksim asking him not to come and to make sure as few men as possible attend this mission.
His reply was strange.
Maksim: Can’t you stop this and talk it out? Just fifteen minutes will do as long as you hear his side of the argument. Everything isn’t as you thought, Sasha.
Sasha: I’m done talking to him and there’s no excuse he can offer that’ll dissuade me from this.
Maksim: In that case, I’ll be there.
I’d really hoped he would change his mind. If he and Anton actually end up killing one another, the one who remains alive will be damaged for life.
And I’ll have to hate them, too.
But I don’t allow myself to think of that right now as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Gunshots sound in the distance and I tense.
Shit.
My heart beats loudly and I realize that I’m not terrified about the lives of the mercenaries who came with us. Aside from my brother, I couldn’t give a fuck about them.
I’m actually shaking at the prospect that the men I knew and trained with for years are dying because of me.
What if Maksim is one of them? Or even Viktor?
Shit.
Shit.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Would I be able to live with myself if I knew I’d caused their deaths? They had nothing to do with my family’s massacre and yet they’re paying the price.
No.
It’s not me.
It’s Kirill who dragged them into this, knowing full well that he’s leading them to their certain demise.
Something rustles to my right and I direct my rifle in that direction, my muscles tensing. It disappears, but then it appears again from the south, out of my range.
I hold on to my position, but I can’t see the reason behind the commotion. Did some of Kirill’s men manage to escape my brother?
The movement happens again, almost like a rustling of trees. If I shoot, I’ll give away my position and that’s a no-go if I don’t have a definite target.
Carefully, I sling the rifle across my chest and slide down the tree.
The moment my feet touch the ground, a shiver rushes down my spine as warmth envelops my back and hot words penetrate my ears. “Miss me, wife?”