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ARSENI

Present day…

N othing in this world feels more ironic to me than my hatred for junkies.

I know the escape drugs can grant. I’ve done things I’m not proud of just to leave my mind for a while. Even so, I feel bathed in hatred as I let the junkie plead behind my gloved hand. His struggle, his fear for his life, makes me so dizzy with power that I don’t want it to stop.

But, of course, it has to.

Closing my eyes against my reluctance, I slice my knife across his throat, ending his muffled pleas. Blood squirts onto the dumpster he hid behind like a coward. When I drop him, a puddle forms on the concrete ground.

No one will miss him. No one will search for his body. He’ll disappear as if he never existed because he was weaker when he was alive than he is now as a corpse, and the world doesn’t tolerate weakness.

I stand over his lifeless body with so much disgust, it fills my mouth with a bitter taste. I gather saliva to spit, but swallow before it passes my lips. My DNA is in the database.

Rolling my neck, I emerge from the alley to grab a body bag from the SUV but falter when I spot my boss, Nikita Petrov, leaning against the vehicle. His arms are crossed, but I can’t tell if he’s annoyed at my inefficiency or if he’s merely observing me. It’s strange for him not to wait in the SUV.

“All done?” he asks.

I nod as I open the back hatch. “He didn’t have any money to recoup the loss.”

“Junkies never do.”

I grab the body bag but halt when Nikita clucks his tongue.

“Leave the cleanup for the cops. Maybe this will enlighten his friends on what happens to those who steal from the Bratva.”

I toss the body bag back without a word and shut the hatch. As I’m stuffing my gloves into my hoodie pocket, Nikita tips his head toward the sidewalk.

“Come… I want to show you something.”

It feels risky to just leave the vehicle parked here with a dead body twenty yards away, but I’m convinced my boss likes the danger. He gets off on pushing his luck. And something I knew before ever working beneath him is not to challenge him. Ever.

Rubbing at my forehead, I step onto the sidewalk and walk to the pace of Nikita’s cane tapping.

His limp barely slows us down, but I often wonder if he’s in more pain than he lets on.

He refuses to show his vulnerabilities or admit that he has any at all, and if you ever point it out, if you ever ask if he needs to sit or slow down or anything of that nature…

I’ve seen more than one person lose their life over it.

Obnoxiously loud voices sound when we turn the corner at the end of the block, and two tweakers come stumbling toward us. One is walking backwards while he talks to his friend in a fur coat too warm for Vegas, even on a fall night like this one.

“Watch it,” I growl, subtly shifting in front of Nikita so the man doesn’t bump him. When his back connects with my shoulder, the guy spins, his hands held out like he’s going to fall or something.

“Oh shit, my bad.” He chuckles, an acrid smell coming from his mouth. I don’t guess it’s from food. The guy is so skinny he looks as though he’s on the brink of starvation.

My annoyance sobers into dread as I recognize the man in the fur coat. His face looks like it’s aged thirty years since I last saw him. It’s only been four, but it feels like a lifetime since the Bratva pulled me from the cesspool of men like Titan.

I feel the blood drain from my face, and for half a second, I’m stuck. I push around the guy who bumped me and lower my head to pass, but I’m not so lucky.

“Baby?” Titan grabs my arm. I jerk from his hold and keep walking. “Holy shit, it’s Baby Ruth.” He laughs and jogs to catch me. “How the hell are you doing, man? I haven’t seen you in… Fuck, how long’s it been?”

“I don’t have a clue who you are, but get the fuck away from me.”

“Dude, it’s me, Titan .” He laughs and swats my shoulder. “What, you don’t recognize me in my fancy getup?” He twirls.

When he puts his arm around my shoulder, I swing toward him with my fist raised. “Get the fuck back, you fucking junkie. I don’t know you .”

Titan stumbles backward with his hands raised. “Woah, my bad, dawg, my bad. Shit, don’t go swingin.’”

I face forward and resume my strides.

“Hey, man, you got any change?” he calls to my back. I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking.

The two linger only a few more moments before they start the other way. The skinny guy howls like a fucking wolf as they jog across the road.

“Arseni,” Nikita calls behind me. Too far behind.

I stop and turn to see him standing still with his cane cocked the same direction his head is. Slowing my breaths, I walk back to him with my head high. It’s forced. I’d be in a fucking corner hugging my knees in shame if he wasn’t staring at me.

“There a problem, boss?”

He looks back at the two men entering one of many tunnels the city built for Vegas’s once a year rain. Here, when it rains, it floods. It’s a fucking nightmare for the homeless who live underground. People drown beneath the feet of thousands of tourists who never knew they existed.

When Nikita faces me, he gives me a knowing raise of his brow. “Former roommates?”

I don’t blink. Don’t react. Even as shame slams its fist into my gut, I just shrug. “Guy was high, boss. Probably a fucking schizo.”

“Why did he call you Baby Ruth?”

Again, I shrug, though now oncoming anger returns the color to my face. “Don’t have a clue. Should we keep walking?”

Nikita taps his cane while he stares at me for a moment. Finally, he breaks eye contact to gesture to the building across the street. “We’re here.”

I follow his gaze up the tall office building, at least twenty stories high.

“My nephew came here the other day to meet with an engineer for one of his good citizen projects. He was practically shoved out the door.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I wait for him to elaborate. Whatever he’s wanting isn’t for Vitaly’s benefit. He hates his nephew even more than I do.

“A year ago, no one in this city would have dared say no to a Petrov. They think he’s weak. And they’re right. But Vitaly looking weak makes the Bratva look weak, and I will not stand for everything I’ve ever worked for to be chopped down by cowards who won’t do what is necessary.”

When his head turns toward me, I meet his fiery eyes. It’s a cliché to say the eyes are the windows into the soul, but I’ve never felt it truer than with Nikita. He’s quiet but enraged.

“What should we do?” I ask, hesitant to even open my mouth.

When he turns back to the building, his jaw is clenched. “The engineer’s name is Henry Duncan. His office is on the eighteenth floor. I want you to go in there and make sure no one in that building ever says no to the Bratva again.”

“Now? Are we sure he’s in his office?”

Nikita angles his head at me and says nothing, just stares at me with those blazing eyes. I take the hint.

I pull up my hood and put my gloves back on. “I shouldn’t be long.”

“Take the bus home,” Nikita calls to my back as I start across the street.

I don’t respond, instead jogging the rest of the way to the building.

There’s a security guard behind a desk in the lobby who’s enraptured by a newspaper when I enter, but he lowers it to lock eyes with me.

Hands in my hoodie pocket to conceal my gloves, I give him a subtle nod and carry on past the elevator to the camera-free stairs.

By the time I make it to the eighteenth floor, I’m breathing heavily and sufficiently irritated.

Irritated by who, I’m not certain. Nikita maybe for not telling me about this when we left the mansion.

I’m not so sure that first kill was even necessary.

Nikita pointed him out from the car, claiming he was the man we were after, but fuck, maybe that was a lie.

Sometimes I wonder if he gets off on this shit.

But I don’t think it’s really Nikita who has my blood pumping with hot anger.

I consider this as I push through the stairwell door and begin scanning the name plates on the offices lining either side of me. Within seconds, I find the source of my contempt. It’s the guy who should be doing this job.

Luka . The brother-in-law of the new Pakhan. Once Nikita’s power was ripped away, Vitaly claiming it as his birthright, Luka was quick to settle in next to the snake.

He’s Vitaly’s lackey. He’s the one who should be here. Instead, I’m cleaning up his mess while he kisses my replacement’s ass.

At one time, Luka and I were brothers. Now I don’t even recognize?—

My feet stop when I pass a door on my right that catches my eye.

I’ve been scanning the plates for solely Henry’s name, but now the job shifts to the back of my mind.

I backpedal a few feet and slowly turn my head, reading the name on the plate carefully, as if I’m hallucinating.

As if all my thoughts of betrayal are making me see shit.

But no, it’s her.

Margot Stevens.

My memory of her comes flooding back. Her silky, brown hair. The tattoo on her right shoulder blade. The way she sleeps with her limbs tucked together like she’s freezing in the middle of summer.

Other memories come as well, charging my anger.

I lower my gaze to the bottom of her door, finding only darkness. My teeth grind with disappointment, but it’s for the best that she isn’t here. I’m not here for her.

Shaking my head, I face forward but can’t get my feet to budge. I haven’t thought about this woman in years, but now that her existence has crossed my path, it’s too difficult to walk away.

There are many ways to get this job done, the most direct being threatening the engineer, maybe smacking him around a bit. And maybe if I hadn’t run into those tweakers outside, if I hadn’t had such a shameful reminder of my past, I could move on to Henry’s office and leave this one behind.

But I don’t think I will.

My head turns once again toward Margot’s name on the door. Despite the anger heating my blood, I find my lips curving into a smile.

I have a better idea.