Page 102 of Mafia and Scars

My jaw tightens when I spot one of Nikolai’s latest drone toys doing a figure-of-eight maneuver above the roof. It dips once, circles, and then zips overhead again.

I grit my teeth. Another noise to try and block out or be overstimulated by.Just fucking great.

Forcing myself to keep moving, I park and slam the SUV door shut, earning a wince from myself. My boots hit the front steps of the main house, and I stalk inside.

I know Avelina is not around because she told me she was takingthe kids to the play park, and I assigned a couple of my men to accompany them, so I know she’s safe.

Another buzz sounds. Louder this time as the drone nears the house.

I whirl around toward the window where the drone hovers in a menacing manner. I spin on my booted heel and stomp toward the armory.

The door slams behind me, but I don’t wince too bad, my irritation overriding the overstimulation this time.

The scent of gun oil and metal fills the space. My fingers move without thought, opening the secure locker, bypassing codes with muscle memory alone.

And there it is.

My hand curls around the RPG launcher that rests on the rack like it’s my knight in fucking shining armor. I snatch it from its hold before I can even decide what problem it’s exactly going to solve.

I storm back outside, the launcher on my shoulder, head tilting up. My eyes lock on the silver dot dancing its stupid dance through the sky. I line up my shot.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I pull the trigger.

Boom!

Metal shrapnel rains down like confetti over the manicured lawn. And my heart sings like a fucking canary.

Another buzz. Another drone. But all it takes is another pull of the trigger.Boom! And this one spirals like a dying bird before it disappears into the tree line at the left edge of the property.

I reload.

The distant whirring tells me there’s one more.

It tries to retreat, but I’m faster.

Boom!

I lower the launcher with satisfaction and breathe in deep. Peace at fucking last.

Shouts sound behind me. The front door flings open. And boots pound on the concrete steps behind me. But I don’t turn.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Nikolai’s shout slices through the air.

I turn and see the three of them—Matvey, Grigory, and Nikolai—sprint toward me. All armed. All wide-eyed. Except Nikolai. He just looks furious.

“Did we miss something?” Matvey pants, pushing a hand through his hair as he keeps a tight hold on his weapon.

“Target practice,” I snarl.

Nikolai’s face turns a deeper shade of red. “What the hell, Viktor? Those were reconnaissance-grade drones! Do you even know how much that shit cost me?”

I shrug. “Thatshitwas costing me my sanity.”

He scoffs, stepping closer. “Fuck! Those were supposed to keep us from getting blindsided again, you idiot! Of all the fucking weird...ugh!”