Page 117 of The Lazarov Bratva

“Do you trust me?” he asks, holding out one hand.

I hesitate, just for a second, and glance at Alyona, who looks every bit her age.

Kristof trusts him, so by extension, yes, I do.

I take his hand.

“Yes.”

37

KRISTOF

The doorman’s body hits the floor with a sickening thud, dead from a single, clean shot to the head.

No one reacts. Nastja’s shot is silent enough that no one inside the hotel is alerted.

It didn’t take long to confirm that this was where Aleksander was staying and even less time to confirm that he was on the fourth floor. With the element of surprise on our side, we use silencers to keep our arrival a surprise for as long as possible.

Ivan and Nastja enter ahead of me, parting the double doors with their shoulders as they raise their pistols. I stride in between them, lift my gun, and send two bullets silently into the chest of the man at the desk. He falls against the desk, spilling a half-filled coffee cup across his keyboard and desk. The resulting clatter draws the attention of a guard armed with an assault rifle. As soon as he turns his head, Ivan shoots him dead.

Nastja darts up to the desk and leaps over, setting her gun down and accessing the computer. Ivan and I sweep the rest of the lobby as Nastja works her magic, and then she lifts her head with a smirk.

“Stairwell is the only way in or out,” she says.

“Excellent.” I tighten my grip on my gun and head toward the door marked STAIRS in gold lettering. The luxury of this place will do nothing to hide the carnage I leave in my wake.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Ivan dips through the door of the first floor. Nastja takes the second floor, and I continue until the third-floor door comes into view. That’s my cue. I slip through the door, gun raised, and hit the hallway light switch which plunges the entire area into darkness.

On cue, the several Orlova guards posted on this floor melt out from the walls and turn on their flashlights. They might as well have shot themselves for how easy they’ve just made this for me.

I break into a sprint down the length of the hallway, and men fall at my feet. Each bullet finds its mark in the chest and head of each guard I pass. Light after light topples to the ground, slipping from the lax hands of dead men. I shoot and run, swiftly killing six men. The seventh man has enough time to react to his fallen comrades and he’s ready for me. He drops and rolls on the floor, taking his flashlight with him, and when he gets back on his feet, we collide with a crack of thunder.

He grunts against me as I wind one arm around his neck and tighten him into a chokehold. He drives an elbow back into my ribs, and then I press the barrel of my gun to his spine and fire twice.

He drops like a sack of rocks and silence falls, broken only by my own panting.

Smooth as butter.

Back out in the stairwell, I’m joined by Ivan. Nastja arrives a minute later, reloading her gun as she reaches me and flashes me a smile.

“Ready for this big fish?” she asks.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Unlike the others, the fourth-floor hallway is deserted. I don’t pull the light trick here as, knowing Aleksander, he’ll have kept the best men closest to him, and they won’t be dumb enough to turn on their lights.

We take the formation of an arrow, with me leading, and move down the hallway to the suite at the end. Ivan and Nastja check each door on their respective sides of the hall, but they’re all locked. Makes sense. Aleksander would buy out the entire floor.

We keep our ears peeled, though, ready for any guard who slips out behind us.

“Nothing,” Ivan murmurs, checking the last door. That just leaves the last one in front of me.

On the other side is Aleksander. The man who has taken and spread my loyalty so thin that I almost lost myself. Who didn’t care when Russian blood washed the streets and drowned the docks, who held back when our own people sought feeding elsewhere. The man who was prepared to send Alena to the dogs for his own benefit.

He never should have come here.

Stealth leaves me in the last few steps, and I stride forward, lift one leg, and savagely kick the door open in one move. The lock clatters, useless as wood splinters and the door crashes open.

---