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“Let’s just say I like to keep an eye on those who come to my gym and their activities,” Ilya confirmed.
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t done my homework.”
“What happened today, then?” I deadpanned.
Malek chuckled under his breath, clarifying the dynamics between them and the lack of rank enforcement. They must be close for him to feel comfortable enough to disrespect the Pakhan in the presence of others.
“You got me there,” Ilya muttered. “Sometimes, shit slips through the cracks.”
His words sobered my confidence. Years, that’s what they had on me. Experience. Resources. I could go on and on about why it wasn’t my time. At least not yet.
“I’m just a kid playing vigilante.” I downplayed my abilities. “Self-taught. No way I can go against trained killers.”
“Everybody’s got to start somewhere. If this is what you want, I’ll help you.”
Not enough time passed for me to consider his proposition, and while curiosity nudged me, reason forced me to ask. “Why?”
Ilya looked at me, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Why what?”
“Why would you do that? What do you want from me?”
Acts of kindness come at a cost.
“I want to help you like someone should’ve helped me when I was in your shoes,” Ilya said, his answer straight but edged with something I couldn’t quite place. Whether truthful, how am I to know?
Needing a moment to think it over, I stood up and moved to the window. A handful of guards in matching uniforms tensed at my proximity, hands raising to their weapons.
Just look at them. All so dedicated to a group that sees them as numbers.
Willing to die for people they only see in passing.
This isn’t who I want to become: a head, an extra set of hands.
Negotiate the terms to benefit you.
“I have conditions.”
The two men shared a look, silently communicating, but it was Ilya who spoke first. “I’m listening.”
Leaning against the window, I laid out my terms. “If I do this, I don’t want to be affiliated with the Bratva. Or any other organization,” I paused, making sure my point hit home. “That’s a deal breaker. I want to be on my own, a freelancer, or whatever you call it.”
“What does it mean to you?” Still seated on the couch, Malek questioned my understanding of the concept.
I wasn’t sure I had one. If anything, I knew my non-negotiable and made sure to include it.
“Freedom,” I replied. “The one thing I won’t give up.” Something I had just recently gotten my first taste of. “Look, I can work with you. But I refuse to work for you.”
Ilya remained deep in thought while I turned my attention back to the guards.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
A handshake between the three of us marked the moment my life’s journey truly began.
I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but the truth was, I had nothing else to live for. From that point on, Malek, Ilya, and I worked together.
The night I killed for the first time solidified the future.