Page 40 of Emerald Vices

I lean in a little closer, trying to read the atmosphere in the room. At first, there had been an air of excitement and interest. But now?

I can smell the doubt circling in the air. The longer the silence stretches, the quicker it turns to fear.

“What say you, my brothers?” Kruger asks, raising his arms towards the throng of men.

For a moment, no one says a word. Then a man stands. He’s younger than Krueger, but still senior enough for a ripple of silence to accompany his rise.

He doesn’t bother stepping onto the dais. Instead, he stands where he is, his back to me, stiff and curt. “It’s not a good idea to go against the Kuznetsov Bratva. Pakhan Andrey will not be pleased.”

Finally, a man with some sense.

Krueger’s reedy eyes tighten with displeasure, but he maintains his pleasant smile. “You seem to be a little confused, Benioff. Our alliance will be with the Kuznetsov Bratva.”

“Slavik has not been seen or heard from in over a decade. He is not the true leader of the Kuznetsov clan anymore, no matter what he claims.”

Krueger’s smile slides off his face. “He is the eldest.”

“Seniority means shit-all,” Benioff retorts. “It’s power that matters, and Andrey Kuznetsov is not a man to be trifled with.”

I’m ready to give the man a standing ovation. But, judging from the look on Krueger’s face, he’s less inclined to agree.

“Andrey Kuznetsov is about to be deposed.”

“Says the man trying to depose him!” Benioff pushes back. “What else would Slavik say? Especially since he’s trying to win you over. He’s succeeded, by the sound of it. You’re ready to sign our lives away on a half-baked whim.”

Krueger scowls as the men shift awkwardly.

Dissent within the ranks. I can use that.

My plan is forming fast. Krueger is a lost cause. But I have a chance of swaying Benioff in my direction. If I can do that, then?—

Before I can formulate the thought, Krueger is talking again. “You’re absolutely right, Benioff. We shouldn’t form an alliance with Slavik Kuznetsov. Especially when there is disagreement among us.”

Without warning, Krueger pulls out a pistol and fires once. The bullet embeds itself in Benioff’s forehead and the man crumbles like cheap plaster.

Krueger smiles with satisfaction. The air is rich with the smell of blood. “Anyone else with an opinion they’d care to share?”

There isn’t so much as a murmur. Anyone who was sympathetic to Benioff’s position has suddenly switched alliances.

“Wonderful!” Krueger slips his gun back into the holster. “Then we’re in agreement. Lieutenants, join me up here while we toast to our fruitful new venture.”

Four men join him on the dais. Champagne materializes from some hidden cupboard. Kruger raises his glass with aplomb. “To the destruction of an unworthy pakhan. And to the reinstatement of a new dawn for the?—”

But I’ve reached my threshold for bullshit theatrics.

Stepping out of my hiding place, I walk boldly through the throng of men, striding up the center aisle that leads to the dais.

“I’d put the champagne back on ice if I were you, Krueger.”

The man freezes, eyes flaring with panic. Apparently, he still harbors a few doubts about who the true pakhan of the Kuznetsov Bratva is. Because he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Yorick is only a few feet from me, but he’s playing his part, staring daggers at me like all the rest.

“Sorry to crash the party, boys, but I couldn’t stand to listen to any more of your fearless leader’s drivel.”

Krueger’s mustache quivers. “How dare?—”

He doesn’t see the bullet coming any more than Benioff did. One second, he’s standing on his platform, raised above all his men. The next, he’s falling to the floor, blood spreading across his chest.

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