Page 36 of Deadly Knight

Signing off for the final time…

-Katya

“Syn,you and Petrov go downtown toTemnaya Komnata. There’s been mention of a new gang on the rise—one who hasn’t sworn allegiance to us. Before they incorrectly assume their business is acceptable on our territory, ensure they understand the consequences of their mini uprising. You know which options to give. Leader goes by Matvey.”

My father shoots me a shrewd grin before moving for the next group of soldiers to provide them with assignments.

I watch him move through the room, gauging how many will come for me when targeting Papa. Most of the men have been around for a while, therefore are very loyal to my father and uncle, but some, mainly the younger crowd, trained with me. Hang out with me more than the others. They’d help, I think.

Beside me, Lev nudges me into movement. “We should go.”

Swallowing the bitter pill my life has become in the past week, I follow him out of the room, intending to continue playing the peaceful soldier—for now.

Lev waits until we’re outside before speaking. “You’ve been so distant lately. Also, what is going on between you and your papa? We can all feel the ice between you two.”

“He did something.”

My car is up ahead, and I go for the driver’s side, anticipating the task we’ve been given. If not Ivan and the four names on the list in my pocket, thensomeonewill be getting hurt today, and it counts for something. Maybe it’ll sate my tension enough for now.

“Something…”

“Can’t talk about it.”

Lev regards me from the passenger seat before shrugging. “Alright. If you need to, you know where to find me.”

In truth, Lev’s probably theonlyone I can talk about this with. My cousin, Vanessa, is away at boarding school. While we’re close, she’s dealing with her own shit, and Lev’s sister is too busy as their father’s side soldier to be of any help. Lev is proficient at masking his emotions, so any feeling he shares with me, he’d be better at hiding from the Elite. He also has a unique way of examining situations from an objective view.

In the future, perhaps. Not now. Not while it’s still so fresh.

The drive deeper into the city is quiet; Lev isn’t much of a talker. The silence is nice, though, and only broken when I pull into the alley besideTemnaya Komnata, a nightclub whose building is entirely draped in black.

As one, Lev and I get out of the vehicle, our weapons only a hand away. The bouncer at the door regards us before allowing us inside, knowing exactly who we are.

“It’d be nice if your father gave us descriptions,” Lev grumbles, sticking close as we tread down the dark hallway lit by a single fluorescent light strip overhead.

“Making life convenient isn’t his game.”

The music gets louder the deeper into the club we go, and soon enough, we’re swarmed with tightly packed bodies, roving lights, and thundering music that echoes deep in my bones. There’s a balcony overhead, presumably for VIP guests, and that’s where I direct us to.

Lev rubs his head as we cut through the crowd, his hatred for anything noisy becoming apparent. Ursin’s Elite don’t give two shits about us; anything to further the Bratva. It’ll be a long night ahead for him.

By the base of the stairs, the bouncer, recognizing me, immediately moves the barrier aside and allows us up.

“If Matvey’s new on the scene, he’ll be obvious about it,” I say in Lev’s ear when we reach the top.

The VIP section is a bit less busy than down below. Couches fence the balcony, most filled with small groups, none of which look up at our entrance. There’s a small bar in the centre, waitresses lingering for their drink orders to be fulfilled. The bartender pauses his pour when noticing us, waiting to see what our plans are.

“There.” Lev gestures to the far left corner, where a man consumes the corner seat, his arms spread behind him, a woman on each side who pet his chest like thederzkiy ublyudok—cocky bastard—he probably is.

We cross the room, stopping in front of the small table between us and maybe-Matvey. His minions pause their drinking and laughing to regard us, and Matvey takes his time lifting his head from one of the women’s tits to pay us attention.

“Customers?” he drawls, because of course he’s cocky enough to deal publicly like this.

The options the Bratva gives in these situations are simple: they swear their gang to the Bratva, giving us a cut of profit, or they cease working immediately. Ursin prefers the former sinceit’s more men in his control, but already I can tell Matvey won’t be worth it.

“You’re Matvey, I take it?”

“Depends who’s asking.”