Page 42 of Sinful Games

Me:

It wasn’t a question. I’ll pickyou up at 8.

Caia:

I tossed my phone onto the bed with a thud, yanking off the rest of my clothes before stepping into the shower. The hot water hit me, and for a second, the warmth eased the knots in my shoulders. I leaned back, letting it wash over my face, hoping it’d drown out all the shit swirling in my head.

Then, bam—a sharp sting hit me. I grabbed my nose, wincing. Damn, that bastard almost broke it.

“How much did he steal?” Vlad asked.

I raised my gun just enough to check it was loaded, then tucked it back under my jacket, out of sight.

“20 grand,” Volk replied, handing me a cigarette. I took it without a word, lit up, and inhaled deeply.

As I walked through the place, I couldn’t help but notice how the light poured in through broken windows, cobwebs draped over every corner like nobody had given a damn about this dump for years. The air was thick with neglect, the kind that clung to your skin, with random flutters of birds hiding somewhere in the dark. It was the kind of place you leave to rot, forgotten, because no one cared enough to tear it down.

I took another drag and blew out the smoke slowly. “So, why the hell are we here?”

Vlad crouched, inspecting something on the floor. “Trying to figure out where that bastard’s hiding.”

By “that bastard,” he meant Viktor. Used to be tight with Igor and Vlad, until he decided to disappear with 20k of our money. Seems like lately everyone thought they could make a clean break from the Silas.

Igor and Vlad met in prison years ago, though neither ever bothered to share what landed them there. Whatever it was, it was enough to spark a friendship and lay the foundation for what the Silas became—a brotherhood of men looking for something more than their sorry lives had offered: power, money, women, purpose.

Igor used to say the name "Silas" came from some Roman god of the woods. It was supposed to mean something about being rooted or grounded. His old man was a carpenter, and they lived in a small town up in northern St. Petersburg. Maybe that’s why he built his manor out in the middle of nowhere, deep in the forest, like he had to be surrounded by trees to feel alive.

But honestly, none of that shit mattered now. Viktor stole from us, and we weren’t the type to let shit like that slide.

“Where’s the wife?” Volk jumped in with the question before I could even open my mouth.

Vlad shook his head, looking grim. “In a coma.”

I frowned, not sure I wanted to hear the rest. “How’d that happen?”

“He ran her over with his car.”

Charming.“When was the last time you saw him?”

There was no way he’d slipped out of the country that easily—not with us keeping tabs. He was probably holed up somewhere, most likely in Moscow.

“A month ago,” Vlad said, pulling out his phone and showing us a picture of Viktor and his wife, all smiles andloving glances. They looked like the perfect couple, but it was all for show. Behind those grins, they probably couldn’t stand each other and slept with knives under their pillows.

I walked further into the dimly lit space, trying to ignore the odd mix of metallic and detergent smells that lingered in the air.

“What’s that smell?” I started to ask when, without any warning, an explosion ripped through the warehouse. The blast hit us hard, slamming us to the ground.

Dust and debris filled the air, making it hard to see. The explosion’s roar left my ears ringing, and I grimaced, feeling something wet and sticky on my hands—blood.

The force of the blast tossed us around, the air thick with ash and grime. I scrambled to find Vlad and Volk through the wreckage, my body stinging from glass shards scattered from broken windows.

A buzzing sound was assaulting my senses, making it tough to focus. I shut my eyes tight, cursing Viktor under my breath. The bastard had trapped us.

The sound of collapsing walls jolted me upright, my breath catching in my throat. My lungs screamed for air as Vlad screamed, «Outside, NOW!”

Stumbling through the wreckage, I barreled through the open doorway, adrenaline roaring through me like a freight train on steroids. Outside, the world had devolved into a chaotic swirl of snow and confusion.

I crashed into the snow, collapsing with a bone-jarring thud. My body shook uncontrollably as I struggled for breath, my knees betraying me in the wake of the shock. I clawed at the ground, spitting out a foul mix of blood and grime. The metallic tang of iron lingered in my mouth, and rage surged through my chest, choking me with its intensity.

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