Page 18

Nikolai

People say life is a straight line from birth to death, a path laid out by the choices we make. But that’s bullshit. Life is a mess of jumbled gossamers, fraying and knotting until you can’t tell which end leads anywhere.

We trip, scratch, and scorch our way through, chasing whatever purpose we think we deserve. Influence. Money. Love. Amity. Most of us die before we even find it.

I never cared about all of that but survival. Only to feel the rush I get from when a gun is in my hand and the simplicity of violence. But Katya... she’s a thread I can’t cut loose. I’d tear the whole world apart before I let her be swallowed by it.

And that’s all I think about as I drive toward the ambush point. I stare down the empty stretch of road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. The dirt path cuts through nowhere—just trees and more trees on either side.

The road stretches out in front of us, a narrow, icy ribbon cutting through dead trees. The place is perfect for an ambush. Remote. Desolate. No backup coming for miles.

Pavel and Ivan hunker down in the brush twenty meters ahead, six others positioned further back. Nine of us against Roman’s crew. Not great odds, but enough.

“He’s coming,” I mutter into the radio. “Two minutes.”

Kirill wanted this done yesterday. I just want it over with. Five years of Roman Druzhinin’s shadow hanging over everything—Katya most of all. Time to end it.

The rumble of engines breaks the stillness. Two black SUVs approach, kicking up dust. Something’s off. There should be one vehicle, according to our intel.

“Stay sharp,” I warn the others. “Something’s not right.”

The vehicles slow as they reach the narrowest part of the road. I count three seconds, then hit the detonator.

The road erupts in front of the lead SUV, sending it careening into a ditch. Immediately, gunfire erupts from the second vehicle.

Chaos unfolds. Gunfire echoes in the stillness, sharp and brutal. Men scream. Metal shreds. Blood splatters. I fire from behind cover, picking off Roman’s men like they’re nothing but prey.

They fight back hard. Bodies hit the snow, twitching, crimson spreading over white. But the bastard came prepared. My own men fall too, their lifeless bodies crumpling like discarded trash.

They were ready. Too ready.

“We’ve been made!” I shout, ducking behind my car door as bullets ping off metal.

Roman’s men pour from both vehicles—at least eight of them, all armed to the teeth. Pavel drops two before they spot him, but then one of Roman’s guys puts a bullet in his shoulder.

“We’ve got a mole,” I realize, catching sight of Roman himself crouched behind an open door, barking orders. Someone told him we’d be here.

The next minutes blur into chaos. Gunshots echo through the trees. I take down three men, moving from cover to cover. Ivan falls, a red hole punched through his chest. Ivan takes one in the leg but keeps firing.

“Fall back!” Pavel’s voice cuts through the madness. “We need to regroup.”

“Fuck that,” I bark. “We’re ending this now.”

I work my way around, staying low in the brush. Ivan provides covering fire as I circle behind Roman’s position. His bodyguard spots me too late, and I put two bullets in his chest before he can raise his weapon.

Roman spins, his pistol aimed at my face. I already have mine leveled at his head.

He’s tall, lean, with a jagged scar slicing down his left cheek. His hair’s dark and slicked back, and he’s got Dmitri’s sharp jaw, but his eyes burn with something wilder and hungrier. I can’t believe this is the outcast who scraped his way up from nothing after his father ditched him.

I study him, this guy I’ve only heard whispers about until now. Roman’s a ghost in the Bratva world, Dmitri’s bastard kid, born to some mistress he never claimed. Raised on scraps while Dmitri built his empire, Roman got nothing but a name and a grudge. Word is, Dmitri cut him loose when he was a teenager, called him a liability.

Roman stands at the edge of the carnage, his eyes cold, his mouth twisted with something like amusement. Like he’s enjoying this. The bastard’s covered in blood, but none of it’s his own. Everything about him screams ambition, and something else—desperation.

“Nikolai Ramensky,” he says, not lowering his gun. “Finally, we meet.”

I keep my breathing steady. “Drop it.”

“Why would I do that?” He tilts his head. “Your boys are dropping like flies. Mine too, I admit. Good shooting.”

“We can both walk away from this, or neither of us will.”

A bullet whizzes past, splintering bark inches from my head. We both duck instinctively.

“Your man Pavel has terrible aim,” Roman says, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead.

“Wasn’t aiming for you.”

Roman’s last bodyguard slumps to the ground behind him. He glances back, then at me.

“You’re better than I expected,” he admits, lowering his weapon slightly.

I keep mine steady. “Kirill wants you dead.”

Roman’s lips curl. “I’m sure he does.”

“But I’m not here to kill you.”

This catches him off guard. He studies my face, looking for deception. “No?”

“Not if we can talk business.”

He laughs. “What could you possibly offer me?”

I lower my gun just enough to show good faith. “Something you want more than my blood.”

“And what’s that?”

“Legitimacy. Power. Things your father never gave you.”

His eyes narrow at the mention of Dmitri. I’ve hit a nerve.

“You don’t care about avenging Dmitri, do you?” I say, reading him. “It’s a front for your men. You want legitimacy. Power. Kirill’s territory would make you the real deal, show everyone you’ve outdone the old man who threw you away.”

“You’re sharp. But it’s deeper than that. Kirill screwed me. When Dmitri walked out, Kirill made sure I stayed down. Fed me lies about a place in the Bratva, then laughed when I came begging. He turned my father against me, poisoned him with bullshit about loyalty. I couldn’t give a shit. But my men expect it. The clan expects it. Dmitri’s son, bastard or not must avenge his father, even if he was a worthless father. Roman’s expression hardens. “Kirill made sure I was pushed aside. Made sure Dmitri never acknowledged me as his rightful heir. For years, I watched from the outside while Kirill took everything that should have been mine.”

“And killing Alina? That was business, too?”

His mouth forms a cold smile. “That was the first step. Break Kirill before taking what’s mine. The territory, the connections, everything. I need to be more than just Dmitri’s estranged son. I need to be better than he ever was.”

The gunfire has stopped. Only the occasional moan of the wounded breaks the stillness.

“I know a way we can both get what we want,” I say carefully.

Roman scoffs. “I just assumed my father’s position. I have money. I have men. What could you possibly offer?”

“Respect. The kind no one would dare question.” I take a step closer. “But you have to promise to stay away from Katya.”

His eyebrows rise. “That’s what this is about? You’d turn on Kirill for some chick? Your little girlfriend? She is the actual person who killed Dmitri, so she doesn’t just get to walk away.”

“Those are my terms. And that’s non-negotiable. Touch her, and I’ll make you disappear. I’m damn good at that.”

Roman laughs. “Why would I agree to that when I’m winning this little skirmish?”

“Because I’m offering you Kirill’s head on a platter. His schedule, his holes. You take him out, claim his turf. No one’ll doubt you’re the top dog.”

That stops him cold. His eyes widen slightly before he can mask his reaction.

“Now that,” he says slowly, “is interesting.”

“More interesting than chasing Katya, isn’t it? Take over Kirill’s territory. I’ll give you points of vulnerability. Everything you need to ambush him and take control.” I keep my voice level.

Roman considers with a calculating look in his eyes. “Kirill’s territory would be quite the prize.”

“I’ll help you consolidate power after he’s gone. Eliminate any rivals who might challenge you. You’ll be the uncontested leader—not just of your father’s empire, but of Kirill’s too. You’ll be untouchable. I have enough dirt on half the politicians and mafioso in the city, most of them hire security from me, so they know I have the means to take them down.”

“And why would you betray your boss?” Roman asks, suspicious.

“For Katya.” The truth slips out before I can stop it. “She’s everything.”

Roman studies me. “Touching. But I need more than promises.”

“I’ll stage Kirill’s death publicly,” I add. “Make it look like your victory. Your name will echo through every corner of the underworld. No one would dare challenge Roman Druzhinin after that.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’m listening.”

“I would tear apart the entire Bratva for her peace,” I continue. “That’s my offer.”

Without warning, I slice my palm with my knife, letting blood drip to the ground between us. “A blood oath. My loyalty to Katya outweighs everything else. I would walk away from it all for her.”

Roman nods, impressed despite himself. “Dramatic. But I need proof of your betrayal. When the time comes, you deliver Kirill yourself.”

“Done.”

“There’s something else I want,” he says.

“What?”

“Irina.” My jaw tightens. “Katya’s sister comes home.”

Roman shakes his head. “ Not sure I can let her go. She’s been quite useful these past five years. Very resourceful girl.”

“That wasn’t our deal.”

“Plans change.” He shrugs. “Besides, she’s good insurance. Keeps your Katya in line, doesn’t it?”

I step closer. “What else do you want instead? Irina goes free.”

Roman smiles, and there’s nothing warm in it. “You.”

“What?”

“Offer yourself as hostage to ensure Irina’s release.” He tilts his head. “You did it for Dmitri once, and you’re doing it now for Kirill. You can do it for me too. Prove you’re in, and I’ll cut Irina loose.”

The cold calculation behind his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He has no intention of honoring our deal. The moment he has me, Katya and Irina will both be vulnerable.

“Fine,” I say, as if resigned. “I agree.”

His brows shoot up. “You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.” I spit on my hand, holding it out.

“Blood oath. Me for her. Katya’s safety too. Break it, and I’ll rip you apart.”

He stares, then spits on his own hand, gripping mine hard. “Deal.”

Relief washes over his face. Relief and triumph. He thinks he’s won.

We shake hands, his grip firm. Blood from my cut palm smears between us.

“Let’s finalize the details,” he says, gesturing toward his SUV. “Somewhere more comfortable.”

I nod, following him.

He thinks he’s got me hooked, but I don’t trust this guy an inch. He’s too volatile, too obsessed with his revenge. Katya’s future is riding on this, and I’m not leaving it to chance.

My fingers brush the detonator in my pocket. The one connected to the charges I had Rurik plant while Roman was distracted with me.

Roman talks as we walk, laying out his vision for the future—his future. I listen, nodding at the appropriate moments.

Close to the vehicle, he turns to me one last time. “You know what I admire about you, Nikolai? Your practicality. Family sentiment makes men weak. You understand that business comes first.”

I smile. “I understand a lot of things.”

When we’re twenty paces from the SUV, I press the detonator. The explosion lights up the forest, a blinding flash followed by a wave of heat that washes over us. Roman’s mouth forms a perfect O of surprise before the blast throws him forward.

I’m already moving, diving behind a fallen tree as debris rains down. When the echoes fade, I stand and walk to where Roman lies stunned, his legs pinned beneath a twisted chunk of metal.

“You...” he gasps, blood bubbling from his lips.

I kneel beside him. “You should have let Irina go.”

“We had a deal,” he spits.

“We did. But I know men like you, Roman. You don’t honor deals. You use them.” I press my gun against his temple. “Katya is off-limits. So is Irina. So is everyone I care about. That was the only real deal here.”

His eyes widen as understanding dawns. “You never intended—”

“No.”

The bullet makes a surprisingly small sound in the open air. I stand, watching flames consume what’s left of the SUV, spreading to the trees nearby. I should feel something—regret, perhaps, or at least the weight of what I’ve done. But all I feel is certainty.

For Katya, I would burn the whole world down.

I walk away from the inferno, the heat warming my back as I head toward where Pavel waits with our escape vehicle. I turn to his leftover guys captured by my reinforcement and remaining men, stumbling out, shell-shocked. “Who’s gonna tell me where Irina is?” I ask, drawing my gun again.

A skinny kid, blood trickling down his face, throws his hands up. “I know! Don’t shoot!”

“Spill,” I say, closing in.

“Basement. Locked up. I’ll take you.”

“Lead,” I order, jerking my head.

We pull up to Roman’s hideout, a beat-up warehouse reeking of grease and decay. He points to a trapdoor inside, and I kick it wide, dropping down. Fortunately, unlike the outside of the building, inside here is actually inhabitable. He provided her with basic human conditions and from the environment, you can tell this place is cleaned regularly.

Irina’s there, chained to a bed, and her eyes flick to mine with curiosity.

“You’re Katya’s sister,” I say, smashing the lock with my gun. “I’m getting you out.”

She nods, shaky, and I pull her up. We climb out, the kid tagging along, and I shove him toward the trees. “Run. Don’t look back.”

He scrambles off, and I half-drag Irina to my car, the warehouse crumbling in flames behind us.

I direct one of my men to take her home.

The heat warms my back as I head toward where Pavel waits with the second escape vehicle. Roman Druzhinin is no longer a threat, and I have successfully gotten Katya's sister back. Now we just need to deal with the mole.

My phone buzzes with a message from Kirill: “Is it done?”

I stare at the screen, thinking of all the ways he betrayed me. Sold me out to Roman. Left me and my men to die in an ambush. The pieces fell into place during the fight because, even though I didn’t tell him, only Kirill would have been able to find out and know our exact position and timing.

I type back: “It’s done. Roman won’t be a problem anymore. I’ve avenged Alina as promised.”

Three dots appear as Kirill types his response: “Good. Thank you for your service again, Nikolai. We will discuss it when I get back.”

“Can’t see you just yet, I’m afraid,” I reply. “Need to tie up one loose end first.”

“What loose end?”

My fingers hover over the screen. “The one hiding in that safehouse on 27th Street. The one who thought I wouldn’t find out who tipped Roman off.”

No response for thirty seconds. Then: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Check the basement window. You might want to run.”

I switch to my conversation with Rurik and type two words: “Set it off.”

The reply comes ten seconds later: “Done.”

Pavel glances at me from the driver’s seat. “All good?”

I nod, picturing Kirill’s face as he reads my text. The panic. The realization. The desperate scramble will come too late. My lips curve up when I picture the building exploding. I want his last thought to be of betrayal.

“Rurik confirms it’s handled,” I say.

“So that’s it? Roman and Kirill both gone?” Pavel asks, pulling onto the main road.

“Two rivals who destroyed each other. That’s how everyone will see it.” I pocket my phone, feeling lighter than I have in years. “The power vacuum will need filling.”

“By you?”

I look out the window at the passing trees. “Maybe. First, I have someone waiting for me.”

The thought of Katya brings the first genuine smile to my face. For the first time, I can offer Katya more than shadows and half-truths. I can offer her a future.

“Take me home,” I tell Pavel.

As we drive away from the chaos I’ve created, I feel no regret. Only certainty. Some men need to fall so others can live in peace.

And I would do it all again for her.