Page 1 of House of Lies

Prologue

KAZ

Don’t be afraid, solnyshko. As long as you are true to yourself, you should never fear the opinion of others.

I took my father’s advice to heart. He taught me that fear is a sign of weakness and never to back down. I refuse to let fear control me. It can’t cripple me. Fear is my enemy; death is my friend. It’s the last challenge, and I’ll face it without fear.

Despite leading a life of crime and violence, he instilled a sense of morality in me. He taught me to consider my options carefully, weigh the consequences of my actions, and never make impulsive decisions. He nurtured a sense of honor in me, constantly reminding me to keep my eyes open and understand what I can and can’t control.

There were moments when I faltered, when I failed him, before and after his death. Somehow, he knew every time I made a rushed decision, spoke out of turn, or failed to consider every angle. Yet, he never got mad or disappointed. He warned me that he wouldn’t always be there to protect me from failure. I can count on family and blood, but at the end of the day, I am still alone. And he’s not here to protect me any longer.

My father was a great man but a little paranoid, and he didn’t trust anyone completely. It is a brilliant thing to do in the life we live. Instead of getting mad, he used to ask me: Did you get yourself killed today, solnyshko?

Not yet, but I will one day.

He was gone too soon, taking away too many lessons from me, lessons I had to learn on my own. He taught me how to get up when I fell, making sure I understood that life would kick me harder the longer I stayed down. I can now pretend to be whatever or whoever I need to be, but I can’t ignore what I’m feeling deep inside. Or, rather, the lack of emotion. There’s a deep void, hungry for any emotion—something I don’t allow myself to feel very often.

Don’t be afraid. Fear doesn’t stop death. It only stops life.

I draw strength from his words.

“I knew you were bad news.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “I warned my uncle about you, but he took you in regardless of my warnings.”

“I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding, Kazimir. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Interrupt me again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue. All you had to do was be loyal to this family,” I remind him, staring at him with no trace of emotion.

I’ll do more than cut his tongue off. His eyes start to irritate me. Maybe I’ll carve them out.

“I am loyal to the family,” he lies. “I owe you my life.”

I exchange a look with Vanya, who leans against the wall, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He has an amused look on his face, waiting to see how the night will unfold. I haven’t decided yet. Vanya takes a sip of whiskey, savoring the taste as it cascades down his throat. He has seen a lot of violence and death in his life, but he still tells me that sometimes I faze him. I’m too used to all this by now, hardened by the reality of a life in which I had no choice. I’d hate to be predictable. There’s always someone trying to get something from me or take over what I have, so I learned how to stay silent for as long as necessary and let the other guy talk until I could spot the lies and weaknesses.

“That’s the sincerest thing you said since we brought you here, Kolya. You do owe us your fucking life. You should kiss my fucking feet, not steal from me.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t steal shit!”

No innocent man lives as Kolya did over the last couple of weeks. He tried to avoid leaving his house, going out only to buy food. Every time he did, dread was painted on his face, his fear growing stronger with each passing moment. He made a habit of glancing around nervously, looking for signs that we were following him, knowing we were there. He couldn’t see us. I waited until he became a prisoner in his own home, never able to relax or feel safe. I waited until he packed his bags and tried to flee, determined to find a way out. Desperate to survive. Worse, I dragged this on until he was convinced he would get away.

“Why were you in such a hurry tonight, Kolya?”

Vanya takes another sip of his drink, watching closely.

“Just kill him already, Kaz,” he says, delighting in the terror that washes over Kolya’s face.

“Not yet.”

I didn’t wait for weeks just to kill him in a heartbeat. I’m going to send a message through his death. Vanya’s glass is nearly empty, and he steps forward, placing it on the wooden desk. He gazes out the window, watching the harsh winter night unfold outside, his hands tucked in his pockets. My mind is elsewhere tonight, although I can’t afford it. The thought of cutting or carving someone excited me when I was younger. Not anymore. The lifestyle has its perks, but some days I’m just fucking tired.

I respect a man who works hard to make something of himself and will do anything to claw his way up to the top. But Kolya is not that man. He commands neither respect nor fear. He’s an expert in the art of persuasion, though, and has always used it to his advantage, fooling my uncle. My uncle has been running my business for too long. Someone had to take care of everything while I was in prison, and Dedushka decided it would be my uncle. I was too young to consider arguing with the Pakhan back then, but that was in a different life. They’re careless now, hiring anyone who walks through the door.

Vanya turns and drains the last sip of whiskey, setting the glass down. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Nikolai planted himself at the door, waiting for my signal. I give a slight nod in his direction.

“I’ll do anything you want, Kazimir. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

No one in this life can give me what I want. I have to take that for myself. And I will. And what I want possesses a charming grace that seems to draw all eyes to her. Her fiery red hair cascades in beautiful waves down her back like a river of flames. Closing my eyes, I picture her smooth, pale skin and her eyes—a brilliant shade of green, veiled with a hint of mystery and burdened by too much misery. I ache to claim her full and inviting lips, ravishing them until she becomes irrevocably mine. Soon. I’ll find out where that misery is coming from, and then I’ll slaughter whoever caused it.

She’s my twin brother’s wife and lives on a different continent, but these are minor inconveniences. My obsession with her began two years ago, from the moment she married my brother, and she has consumed my every thought ever since. I can’t get her the fuck out of my head. She belongs to me. She has for a while, even if she remains oblivious. The void inside me calls to her. I want her to pour herself into it and see if she can fill it. I’ll hold her in my arms soon enough.

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