Page 232 of The Umarova Crime Family

The dot on my phone moves closer to the Iglesia Catolica De La Virgen Del Carmen, the only church in town. I’d hate to kill him in a church, but it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last that I take someone out this way. At least when I kill them inside a religious building, they’re not too far from the cemetery.

I leave my hotel room and proceed to exit the building, taking my rental car from the hotel all the way out to the church. My phone still tells me he’s here, but now he’s inside the building, so I park my car and exit it. I lock it in the process and slide my keys inside my pants pocket before I reach the church door.

The church looks like it’s been here for a long time, maybe a few hundred years. The outside is made up of some sort of concrete block, and there’s been more concrete painted over it, so you can’t see the lines. On top of that is a very faded-out cream color. My guess is it’s sun damage over the years.

There’s a small veranda on the front steps to shield patrons from the blazing sun or maybe the occasional torrential downpour. Placing my gloved hand on the old, worn-out bronze door handle, I push the door open. It’s green and looks like it had a lot of life left in it many years ago. Now, the wood is starting to bow in the middle, and the different parts of it are swelling and cracking. Either this place hasn’t been taken care of because of people’s choices, or they don’t have the money to make the upgrades they need.

After I’m inside, I shut the door, and the inside looks just as bad as the outside. The floor is a mixture of what looks to be vinyl, and then that material narrows out while dirt takes its place. Church pews sit on either side of a central aisle in six rows, and even they look like they’ve seen better days. This is a Catholic church, so why isn’t the Catholic Church helping them fund upgrades?

Near the front of the church is who I can only assume to be Julio. He’s kneeling at the front, praying to someone while holding a rosary.

I slowly walk up behind him and notice he’s speaking lowly in Spanish. I’m not sure what he’s saying because his words are coming out in a mere whisper, though as I grow closer to him, I can tell he’s worried. He tenses up and straightens his back up a bit, beginning to turn. The moment he fully faces me, I collide my closed fist with his nose. A loud pop rings out between us, and he jolts backward as he tries to process what just happened.

Blood spills from his nose onto his hands, and he’s damn well confused that I’m here. “Ambros Galanis… someone paid a pretty penny for you.” Julio coughs.

“No one paid a dime. I’m here on a personal matter, Julio,” I state, taking a seat in the first pew. The fact I’m sitting down only makes him more nervous. He doesn’t appreciate how comfortable I am doing what I do.

“I don’t understand.” Of course, he doesn’t because he barks out orders and doesn’t even bother looking into people’s personal lives. If he had, he might have refrained from ordering a hit on Xava, especially after she and I had a known association with one another.

“You ordered a hit on Xava Beno or Xava Umarova, didn’t you?”

Julio takes in a deep breath. “I did, and the Umarova family hired you because of it.” Julio shakes his head. “I should have hired you to take her out in the first place. Fuck. Look at where things are now.”

I begin laughing because this is laughable. He thinks I would have killed Xava for money? No. Hell no. “You really are as dumb as you look. I would never kill Xava.”

Julio draws his brows together as he tries to figure out why I wouldn’t. “You’re an assassin. It’s your job to kill people when you’re paid to do so.”

I nod a couple of times. “You’re right, but I wouldn’t kill my girlfriend.”

Julio rises to his feet and pathetically tries to run. I’ll give him credit. He realizes how badly he fucked up right now.

He has to know there isn’t any coming back from this. I take my time rising from the church pew and stalk toward him. “You tried to have her killed in Grozny, and then you went and screwed with their plane.”

“No, I didn’t. I hired an idiot to kill her, who obviously didn’t do the job… but I never messed with anyone’s plane.” As much as I don’t want to believe him, for some reason, I do. There’s only one other person who would have reason to kill Xava—my father. He wants me to marry Zoe Drakos, and it looks like he’s prepared to do anything to make sure that happens, even killing an innocent woman.

I close the distance between Julio and me, grabbing the blade I’ve had concealed in my left pocket. I jam it into the center of his throat and watch as he grabs onto the handle and thrashes. He slowly begins to choke on his own blood and knows the only thing he’s going to be able to do here is die. He’ll either die slowly and gracefully, or he’ll freak out and beg for my help, dying the way a coward would.

I’m curious as to which one it will be.

Julio coughs up blood, and it splatters against the bits of vinyl that are left on this side of the church. He looks up at me almost in a silent way of pleading with me to help him, but it’s no use. I’m not going to. He tried to take Xava away from me, and I will show no mercy to anyone who fucks with the woman I’m growing to love.

Julio pulls the blade out of his throat and continues coughing, but now, as he breathes, it sounds wet, and I know what’s going to happen next. He coughs and breathes, making everything worse for him. He can’t help himself. It’s his body’s natural reaction… but it doesn’t last for long.

“If you had just left her alone, I wouldn’t have had to do this. That’s where you fucked up, Julio. You tried to have my girl killed.”

I debate letting him die slowly in only this amount of pain, but the darkness inside me is begging me to make him suffer greatly. I pick up the blade Julio yanked out of his throat and jam it into his body over and over again. First, it’s his shoulders, then his chest, then I dig it into his stomach and yank until I feel the tension of his intestines against it. He coughs even more now, and every single time he does, I can hear the distinctive sound of blood in his lungs.

His eyes go wide, and he hits the ground with a thud. I watch to see if there’s any sign of life, but there isn’t. I hold my bloodied blade and take out my wallet, leaving a stack of cash for the church. Maybe they’ll actually do some upgrades with it. It’s really my apology for leaving such a gruesome mess.

I leave the church, wiping my blade off with a handkerchief I have in my other pocket, and conceal my weapon. There’s one person I need to call, so I grab my phone and dial Ruslan.

“Yeah?”

“It’s done.”

“Did he suffer?”

“I made sure of it.”

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