Page 31 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Ghosts in the Wind

MAKROS'S POV

The boat cut through the dark waters, coming in towards the docks with a chilling calm.

I breathed in, letting the air travel all through my body.

The rather sulphury-scented wind filled my lungs, and was icy on my skin.

It wasn't icy cold—it was a cold that carried whispers, whispers of old ghosts buried beneath the tide.

Tonight, I felt invincible.

Dragon, who sat opposite me, wasn't so convinced.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, voice low.

I let the silence stretch between us before answering. "I asked nicely for a meeting."

"You also knew Vincenzo wouldn't take that as a sign of good faith."

I grinned, threw my head back, eyes half-closed to the night sky. "I asked for an audience so I wouldn't have to kill him in cold blood. If he's smart, he'll see sense. If he isn't." I shrugged.

Dragon winced. "You should have taken more men."

"If Vincenzo was brave enough to kill me, wouldn't you agree that I'd be dead by now?"

I saw it then—the way Dragon's jaw clenched ever so infinitesimally. He was surveying the docks before us, gauging the angles, the pathways out, the risks. And he wasn't wrong. If Vincenzo was laying a trap, this would be when I would walk right into it.

But I was not scared.

Vincenzo had been a politician first, after all, instead of a ruthless violent killer. He liked his authority solid; liked his moves predictable. He wouldn't jeopardize a war by making me die like this. No, if he had an agenda, it would be complicated. Subtle.

Which meant that I still had time to turn the table around on him.

The boat came to a slow dock. Dragon was first out of the boat, looking around while I followed behind him. A car was waiting, a gleaming black Mercedes with an aura of good fortune and bad intention. We got in, and the driver drove away without speaking.

The city melted away into the horizon. Naples was a different kind of beast from Sicily. There, the power was old but ever-changing, a game of chess where men like Vincenzo defended while pretending to be on the attack.

I almost pitied him.

Almost.

Dragon and I arrived at the restaurant where we had planned to meet.

It was trendier than I had expected. Vincenzo was a sucker for appearances, and tonight was no different.

The restaurant's interior was softly lit, every square inch of this place felt like a dream.

An atmosphere calculated to disarm, to put men like me at our ease.

I wasn't.

I felt it immediately as I walked into the restaurant—the wrongness of the room. It was in the seating position, in the placement of the glass walls that were facing the high-rise building across the street. It was in the flick of Vincenzo's eyes to that building, too quick, too frequently.

A sniper.

I almost grinned. So predictable.

Dragon felt it, too. His muscles went tight, but he didn't react otherwise. He was waiting for my signal. And beside Vincenzo, sitting, was Aleksei.

I had hoped that Vincenzo had at last come to his senses. That he had accepted the inevitable and chosen to surrender Aleksei for peace.

But the moment I beheld Aleksei's countenance, I knew that wasn't so.

The atmosphere hung thick with something unsaid.

Vincenzo rested back in his chair, spinning a half-full glass of wine. "Aren't you brave to show up in my city with only one man?"

I drew out a chair, not sitting, but just letting my fingers drum against its back. I looked him in the eye. Calm. Unfazed.

"I didn't require an army to take care of a small fry."

Vincenzo's teeth clenched, but he refused to rise to the bait. He took a sip of wine. "You're here for Aleksei."

"Sharp as ever."

A flicker of amusement ran across his features before he turned to Aleksei. "And I thought you'd be flattered, Aleksei. A man willing to step into my territory just to claim you."

I let the moment go by before I spoke again. "What did he offer you, Aleksei?

He didn't answer.

Vincenzo leaned forward, voice silky. "He doesn't owe you an explanation."

That was when I saw it, the change. The almost imperceptible stiffening of Aleksei's shoulders. A decision being made.

That was the moment before the shooting.

I was the first to react.

My hand reached for my gun. In an instant, I saw Vincenzo move, his fingers reaching for his jacket, for his own gun. Too late.

Aleksei was faster.

A gunshot echoed through the air.

Not at me. At one of Vincenzo's men.

The man didn't even get a chance to see betrayal before his body crashed to the floor, blood spilling over the pristine white tablecloth.

Vincenzo's face twisted with anger. He stumbled back— just as I fired.

The bullet struck him in the shoulder, and he staggered, fell into the table. The wine glasses shattered against the floor.

Then the sniper fired.

Dragon shoved me.

The bullet meant for my head tore through my arm instead. Adrenaline dulled the pain, but I felt the force of it. Dragon grabbed me, dragging me toward the back door.

Aleksei cleared the way for us. He moved across the floor, killing two of Vincenzo's goons before they could even get their guns on target.

Then we were out.

A car was waiting. Aleksei got into the driver's seat, tires screeching as we drove out into the night. The sniper took another shot, shattering one of the side mirrors. Dragon had his gun on Aleksei's head but I instructed him to relax.

Jeez, this old geezer believes there is danger in every movement.

At the safe house, the room smelled of wet wood and gunpowder, the kind of place where men measured bullets instead of minutes.

Dragon reclined against the door, reloading his pistol out of habit. My arm hurt from the sniper's bullet, but I didn't notice. I had only one concern.

I looked at Aleksei, regarding him as a puzzle I hadn't yet solved.

"Why did you betray Vincenzo?"

Aleksei let out a breath, rolling his shoulders, as though determining how much truth to reveal to me. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"Because he overpromised."

I remained silent, letting him go on.

"The day I discovered I was being released from prison, I knew I would be killed." He glanced at me. "You would have turned me over to the Russians. You were not to be influenced.".

I did not deny it. He was correct.

He smiled, seeming entertained. "So I had to vanish, leave there first. I needed to have time to figure out what I was doing next, and Vincenzo gave that to me. I utilized him."

A hesitation.

"And you really considered actually switching sides?"

Aleksei nodded. "Yeah. I did." He leaned his head. "Vincenzo had authority, structure. I could have formed something below him."

"But he became greedy."

A glimmer of dark humor passed through his eyes. "He guaranteed me second-in-command."

Dragon let out a soft, incredulous snort.

Aleksei chuckled. "Exactly. That's when I knew he wasn't serious about keeping me alive. Guys like him don't share power. He wanted my skills, but not my presence. The moment I served my purpose, he'd have had me eliminated for real."

"So you defected back to me."

Aleksei stood my gaze. "Because you pay for loyalty."

I let it hang between us.

He wasn't telling me a lie. I had paid for loyalty. But I never forgot betrayal.

"And what do you want now?" I asked, voice flat.

He didn't flinch. "Freedom. Let me run."

I leaned back, considering. "And where precisely do you think you'll run?"

Aleksei's silence replied for him: he didn't have a truthful answer.

I shook my head. "That's too daunting."

He narrowed his eyes.

I explained. "You could run. You could disappear. But you'd always have to look over your shoulder. And one day, the Russians would arrive. Perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not next year. But they would arrive."

Aleksei did not flinch, but he did not object either.

And then I leaned in, a small smile creeping onto my face.

"So let's not have them looking for you."

Aleksei's brow creased.

I explained it clearly. "You're already dead."

There was a silence. And then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.

"How?"

I pulled out my phone, snapping it against my fingers. "I tell the Russians you turned out all right in the end. You had second thoughts, you saved my life. But." I kept my voice icy, "I don't accept betrayal."

Understanding flashed across his eyes.

I continued. "So I had your car rigged with a bomb. You thought you were driving to freedom, but when you turned the key in the ignition—" I snapped my fingers. "Gone."

Aleksei let out a gentle laugh. "It's convincing."

"It has to be."

The charade was prepared in hours.

A burned-out car on the outskirts of the city. A burned body behind the wheel, unidentifiable.

A grainy security camera leak: Aleksei Volkov, walking up to the car. Getting in. The engine revving—then a burst of flames.

The Russians would discover it. They'd think it.

Aleksei Morozov was dead. And far away, somewhere, a ghost was finally free.