Page 36 of Crown of Hate

I tuck two guns in my holster. Ilya grabs an Ak47.

I text my bodyguards to be on alert, ordering them to stand guard and be prepared to attack if necessary.

“We have to get to Kira and Alya,” Ilya says.

I nod, and we trudge out of the bar, weapons at the ready. We find both girls sitting in the living room, sipping coffee and chatting.

Alya’s eyes widen at the gun I’m holding. “What is that for?”

“Kira, get behind me,” Ilya orders my sister. He glances at Alya. “Stay behind him. Do not move unless we tell you to.”

Heavy footsteps thunder outside as my men take cover. As Pakhan, Ilya wouldn’t go anywhere without bodyguards, so I’m sure his men are ready for an attack too.

Alya positions herself behind me. Her breath comes in short, panicked gasps. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it reassuringly.

Moments later, the door flies open, and Semyon bursts in. He’s sweaty, bloody, and panting heavily.

“The fuck, Semyon. What happened?” He doubles over, struggling to catch his breath. When he finally speaks, the words hit me like a physical blow. “The warehouse… was attacked.”

I grunt angrily. “Who did it?”

“No fucking clue… But they weren’t Russians,” he gasps. “I heard them speak… Italian.”

“Did we lose any men?”

“Twelve of ours. Gone.”

“Fuck!” I roar, rage boiling over. All I see is red, and all I want to do is murder whoever is responsible for this. “And the weapons?”

“They took everything,” he says, defeat heavy in his voice.

I turn to my sister and wife. “Stay here. Neither of you move an inch until I say otherwise.”

Kira looks ready to argue, but Alya’s eyes are clouded with worry. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I answer, but my voice is strained. I won’t be fucking fine until I’ve gotten my pound of flesh. Those men invaded my warehouse, stole from me, and killed my men. They won’t get away with it.

She nods. “Don’t worry, we’ll be right here.”

I give her hand one final squeeze before I release it and start for the door. Ilya kisses Kira on the forehead and follows me. Semyon joins us.

Back in the bar, I’m pouring myself another glass of tequila. “Explain what happened.”

“We were taking inventory of the shipments when we were suddenly attacked,” Semyon says. I fill the glass Ilya had been using and pass it to Semyon. He takes it gratefully. “There was a shootout. Only five of us survived, and they came prepared.”

I squint. “Prepared how?”

“They came with a truck, and there were at least forty men.” He gulps down the tequila. “It seems they already knew about the shipment and planned for tonight.”

“You said they weren’t Russian?”

He shakes his head. “If they were, I couldn’t tell. They spoke only Italian.”

I steeple my fingers under my chin, deep in thought. While the Italians aren’t my allies, things with them have been going smoothly. I see no reason why they would attack me.

“Did you check the CCTV?” Ilya asks.

“They were disabled. All of them,” Semyon answers. “Someone must have leaked our shipment schedule.”

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