Page 111 of Under Control

We go straight in the front door.

I have Karine’s voice in the back of my head as I storm the main dining room. The employees and the patrons stare with horror as I hold my gun in the air and shout for them to get out. Nobody moves for a beat, before the couples closest to the door make a run for it, and when it’s clear that we don’t plan on stopping anyone or killing them, the rest of the diners follow until the front of the house is empty.

Several soldiers have my back as we move forward toward the private room across from the kitchen. We scouted this location out a few days back when Arsen told us about this meeting and I’m glad we did. Otherwise, we’d waste precious moments trying to figure out where the meeting’s taking place.

The door’s closed. I hesitate outside and listen, but there’s no sound beyond. I glance back at my men and nod before stepping back to kick it down.

Suddenly, it slams open, knocking me backward. Something small and round trickles out, and I have about two seconds toform a coherent thought before the world turns into light and pain.

The explosion is deafening. I’m thrown back into the dining area and hit the floor hard. Glass and shards of wood pepper my face and chest, and I feel little cuts all over myself. I groan and push myself up, my ears ringing like crazy.

Those psychotic motherfuckers just threw a grenade.

Fire’s burning in the hallway where the explosion went off. There are shouts from nearby, probably the kitchen staff freaking out. I get to my hands and knees and have to lean against a table to stay upright. I’m dizzy and weak, but when I check myself, I’m basically intact.

I got lucky.

Fortunately, my men are all alive too. We regroup, but before we can storm the room, four Armenian thugs come storming out, guns blazing.

They pin us down. I’m forced behind a table as bullets spray all through the room. I’m glad Karine convinced me to evacuate the civilians—otherwise, some of them would be dead right about now. One of my soldiers takes a bullet to the head and his skull snaps back, killing him instantly, while the rest of us return fire.

The Armenians get mown down, but winning this fight wasn’t their goal. Behind them, other men are running into the hall and making for the back door.

It was a distraction.

Aram used his guards to buy time.

I roar with anger and pain as I come charging out from behind my table. The last of the Armenian guards goes down in a heap, and I put a bullet in his head to make sure he’s not getting back up. Black smoke rolls in heavy waves and the heat is almost unbearable, but I leap through it and feel the flames licking at my ankles as I land on the other side and roll up against the wall.

I cough and shove myself to my feet. Two of my men follow, both of them landing awkwardly. I drag them up and we’re out together, rushing the back door after the Armenian leadership.

The cold night air hits me as I slam my way out into an alley. I’m breathing hard and I go low, dropping to a knee and raising my gun in case anyone’s waiting to ambush us. Instead, I find a huddle of older men holding guns, some glaring straight ahead, others looking back where me and my men trap them.

Anton’s on the far end of the alley with five more soldiers.

“You’re finished, Aram,” I call toward the group. There are six of them in all, and Aram’s at their head. He shoves back toward me, glaring death and rage. Arsen’s to his left, expression stoic as he slowly and carefully moves over toward the wall.

Getting out of the way of a bloodbath. Smart kid.

“You fucking Russian dog,” Aram spits at me. “We will slaughter you where you stand for this. How dare you come to my home? How dare you threaten me?”

I step forward, gun raised and aimed at Aram’s chest. The men around him bristle.

“Lower your weapons,” I tell them calmly. “This is about him.”

“Nobody fucking move,” Aram snaps at them.

The tension ratchets up. I notice several of his top lieutenants looking at each other for guidance, but nobody moves. If this turns into a shootout, there really will be a bloodbath, and chances are good that I’ll end up dead.

But I’m tired of this war. I’m tired of this fight. This is my moment and I’m not going to let Aram get away.

“You murdered my father,” I say quietly and Aram flinches back from me as I approach.

“Kill him,” Aram says wildly.

Nobody moves.

I keep advancing until my gun is pressed to his head.

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