Page 51

Zyon

Malin was already inside, hacking the security system, so we entered the perimeter unnoticed. Dorian handed me a pair of leather gloves and led the way into the tiny hall.

I felt my gun on my right hip when I followed him up the fire stairs while three of our men pulled masks on their faces and walked into the elevator. Their task was to get the employees out unharmed under the pretext of looting.

Our whole plan worked like a robbery. We had limited time to execute it and get out unnoticed. While our men pretended to steal important documents, my brothers and I would do the real job.

The alarm went off precisely when we were behind the emergency exit of the fifth floor. Quickly, we slipped inside before the people hurried there to run to safety.

The floor was vacant in two minutes, and we left our hideout, heading to the main conference room.

The place was full of shareholders having their regular monthly meeting.

Idiots put soundproof glass on the walls and windows, so they didn’t know about the emergency.

They continued to study reports as if nothing had happened.

Well, nothing had happened yet .

I glimpsed at Dorian, who winked at me, and behind him, Malin appeared like a ghost. We were all dressed in black turtlenecks and suits and had the same haircut, making it hard for people to distinguish us.

My body shivered with excitement and adrenaline. I couldn’t wait to start with this. It would be a blow no one saw coming.

“Ready?” Dorian asked, glancing around for the last time to check if any staff had stayed behind.

I looked at Malin, who nodded, and I did the same.

“Let’s go,” I commanded, walking from behind the corner and turning the knob on the heavy glass door. We were extra cautious, so none of them saw us before we entered the conference room to shock them to the core, and it paid off.

The man presenting monthly profits stopped talking immediately when he noticed us. His brows furrowed as he watched us walk inside leisurely. The other twelve men also drifted their attention from the board to us, most looking surprised.

“Good afternoon, Zyon,” the head of the company, Damien Levenburg, greeted with fake sweetness, his gaze jumping from me to my brothers. “I didn’t know you were coming. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

I didn’t answer. I let them cook in their own sweat, sensing the nervousness growing. Malin casually walked around the long glass table until he stood behind the man presenting and pushed him down to sit.

Dorian scanned the room with his calculated glance like a lion ready to pounce at its prey, picking the best spot for attack.

I, on the other hand, stood by the door, relishing in the raw fear that spread like an infectious disease. They knew this wasn’t a social visit, but they had no idea those were their last minutes on earth.

“Zyon.” Damien awkwardly rose to his feet, but Dorian instantly pushed his ass back on the leather office chair .

“What is going on?” another man whose name I didn’t remember asked, trying to sound confident. Yet his voice jumped slightly, and his eyes showed concern. All of them were worried. Finally, they were starting to understand the heaviness of this situation.

“I came to collect what you owe me,” I replied firmly, hiding my hands in my pants pockets and slowly walking toward the table. “You owe me too much for my liking.”

“There must be a misunderstanding, Zyon,” Damien said, watching Malin, who opened the window and lit a cigarette through narrowed eyes. “We don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t?” I echoed, looking at Dorian, who pointed at his watch. We didn’t have much time for empty talk. “John Porter and Anastasia Bloom broke under pressure, Damien. I know everything.”

A grave silence reigned in the room. Malin returned to his previous position behind the man at the main table, and Dorian pulled out his white desert eagle.

“I’m sure we can explain, Mr. Zhumagulov,” someone said from the other side of the table, but I was done listening to fabricated nonsense.

“Malin,” I addressed my brother coldly, underlining the severity of what was about to come. “Show our former friends how interested we are in their bullshit.”

It was barely a millisecond before the room filled with desperate grunting and wheezing.

Malin was strangling the man with steel thread while the poor victim of his brutality tried to fight for his life without success.

My brother skillfully demonstrated the dreadful reality, freezing everyone in their spots.

All eyes in the room were set on the awful scene of the man dying. His breath was cut short, his eyes bulged, and his hands fought and clawed at Malin’s forearms until he fell limp on the chair with an empty gaze fixed on the papers scattered in front of him.

It was absurd. A young person died a violent death as an illustration of our cruelty and need to scare our enemies before the inevitable end would come.

But even more bizarre was that no one tried to help him. They just sat there, paralyzed by shock and the realization that they were next. It baffled me that no one tried to fight. Their self-preservation instinct failed.

“What do you want, Zyon?” Damien asked, evidently upset .

The others barely took a breath. The fright was written all over their faces, and some nervously wriggled in their seats. Dorian roughly pushed one of them with his gun, giving him a pointed look to say that if he didn’t stop moving, there would be consequences.

“I thought you would never ask,” I chirped excitedly, nodding at Malin. He hid the steel thread in his pocket and threw a file before Damien, who carefully opened it as if he expected it to blow up, his eyes widening at the content.

“You can’t be serious,” he ground out, glaring at me. The man on his right side, the lead accountant, if I remember correctly, scanned the document with his frightened stare, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is extortion,” he uttered, returning the file to Damien. “No one will ever sign it.”

“No?” I lifted a brow, motioning for Malin to do his job. He pulled the thread out, walking with a devilish smirk to the accountant.

“Okay, okay!” Damien yelled, standing in the way of my brother. “I believe we can make a deal.”

“The only deal you’ll get is this!” Dorian rumbled, pointing his gun at the file. “Sign it, or you all die.”

“No.” Damien shook his head resolutely, but he wasn’t the only man in the room.

“What’s in the file?” the older man, who I knew was in tight contact with Valentino, inquired, stretching his arm toward it. Three heads came together to read my proposition, and even when it was clear they didn’t like it, they seemed to value their lives more.

“If we sign it, Mr. Zhumagulov, will you let us live?” the older man asked, holding the black pen in his left trembling hand.

“Of course,” I replied with an honest smile. “I just want what you owe me.”

He nodded, quickly writing his name on the dotted line and moving the file to another man. Eventually, they all signed it—Damien finally gave in after his hesitancy—and a victorious grin crossed my face. This was easier than I thought.

“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, gentlemen,” I beamed when the file came to me, seeing all signatures were placed right as they should have been since the beginning .

After I folded the papers, I hid them in the inner pocket of my jacket and signaled to my brothers. Our men had already climbed to the fifth floor and prepared everything for our departure. It was time to disappear.

“What about the corpse?” Damien hissed, pointing at the dead body at the head of the table. “Clean your mess.”

“Don’t worry.” Dorian slammed his shoulder hard, grinning maniacally. “We always clean our mess.”

The real meaning of his words was terrifying and truthful at the same time. We never left loose ends. We constantly checked our tracks and eliminated witnesses. If Damien believed this would be different, he was more naive than a thirteen-year-old virgin.

My brothers joined me on the way out of the conference room, and we came face to face with our boys.

We walked out, and they entered the room, throwing three canisters of gasoline inside, followed by a couple of lighters.

When I turned to look back, the flames already roared like hungry vultures ready to swallow everything in their path.

With three clicks on his phone, Malin sealed the door and windows into the conference room, making it impossible to escape. When he had lit the cigarette before, he checked the lock on the windows so he could close it, leaving them no option to escape.

Our enemies were trapped in a burning hell, screaming and banging on the thick glass while we ran down the stairs and into the safety of our respectful lives.

We had alibies. We had witnesses who would claim to see us at work. We had cover for everything.

The plan was bold and dangerous but turned out flawlessly. This was a breakthrough. Now, we only had to wait to see how the Italians would react to this unexpected attack.

“We are insane.” Dorian laughed when the explosion occurred and the window fell on the road before our car. Jamal pushed the gas pedal hard, smoothly navigating us into the traffic by the thoroughly prepared escape route.

“Yeah,” Malin agreed, tapping on his phone. “We are clear. No camera caught us.”

“Aren’t you a magician?” I joked, pulling the leather gloves off, but it was hard with two of them squeezing me in the middle. “Fuck, this car is too small for us. ”

“I told you to take the Hummer.” Dorian shrugged, looking over me to Malin. “Are you sure no one will tie us with this?”

“They will tie us with this,” I pointed out, nudging him with my elbow to move him a little. “They just won’t be able to prove it.”

“Exactly,” Malin confirmed, showing me the screen with the crazy amount of money written on it. “I’m paying the boys what they earned. The plane is waiting for them.”

“Okay,” I approved, staring outside at the two firefighters’ trucks heading in the opposite direction, followed by three police cars. “Are we sure everyone got out safely?”

“I trust our boys,” Dorian stated, but Malin was more realistic.

“We’ll know for sure when they count the victims,” he replied, ignoring Dorian’s roll of eyes. “Someone might’ve got stuck in the toilets or on the balcony.”

“Fine. Keep an eye on it,” I ordered, counting the seconds to get to our underground parking garage. “If someone unexpectedly died there, ensure their family will receive the money. It won’t return their loved ones, but it’s the best we can do.”

“Yes, boss,” Dorian confirmed, finally exiting the car. “I’m going back to the clinic. I'll be performing a minor surgery . Let me know if the police show up.”

“I’ll be in my office,” I announced, watching Malin sit on his motorcycle and leave without another word.

Entering the elevator in the Starlight building, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Everything was in its place. Not one hair stuck out. My face was calm, and my breathing was even.

Who could say that I had just committed a mass murder?