Page 115 of Kings of Cruelty

I let out a pained sound and shoot. I hear the bullet bounce off the metal chassis. I shoot again, and this time the bullet hits the rear tire. Roman isn’t skilled enough to handle the sudden swerve, especially not on the slick road. The bike goes rolling, and Roman shouts as he’s flung from the bike and onto the hard concrete.

I rush forward, clutching the knife tighter. The rain pelts down on me, soaking me almost instantly.

Roman’s side is half-shredded, the suit he’d been wearing not protecting him at all from skidding across the concrete. It’s only too bad he hadn’t been driving faster.

He sees me approaching and fumbles for his gun, but it’s several meters away on the driveway.

I approach him. “Not so tough now, are you?” I sneer at him. “You think you can come here and take over Kotya’s business? You think there is nobody who supports him?”

Gunshots are still going off all around us, like a fucking warzone. Roman whimpers and raises his arm to shield himself.

“Get up,” I tell Roman. “Get up and fucking fight me, the way you’ve always wanted to.”

Roman’s eyes widen in terror, but he recovers and starts chuckling. “Fight you? You are nothing, boy. I never even thought about you.”

I howl in frustration and grab his ripped up arm, forcing him onto his feet. He cries out in pain, but he stays upright.

“You made Kotya’s life hell!” I have to shout to be heard over the rain. “You pushed him aside! He’s the one who should be the heir! Not you!”

Roman shakes his head. “I’m the firstborn, my father’s legitimate son. I’m not a fucking bastard. But that’s why you flocked to him, right? Because you’re some fucking street orphan who was born from trash. You’ll always be trash, too.”

I hate that he’s getting to me, that I can feel all the derision I’d faced all my life. I’m grown now. I’m not a fucking teenager anymore. I spent time in prison, and I worked hard to become Kotya’s right-hand man.

“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him. “I am going to gut you, and I will present your entrails to Kotya as a gift.”

I’m rabid with a familiar rage. It’s the same way I’d felt when I’d thought Sierra had sold me out—except I’d never truly wanted to kill Sierra.

“A pathetic little boy like you?” Roman taunts. He takes a few steps away, though, wincing at the pain.

I rush forward with a shout, the knife out. Roman grabs my arms and tries to tackle me to the ground. We end up on the lawn, rolling in the mud while the water pelts down around us.

“This is for Kotya,” I shout, slashing the knife across his chest.

Roman cries out and rolls away from me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a deep cut. I try again, but Roman manages to kick me in the shin.

A flash of lightning suddenly reveals another man nearby. He aims his gun at me, and I curse, rolling away. I can’t tell who it is with this shit visibility.

“Get him!” Roman shouts. “Get Konstantin’s dog!”

The man strides closer to me, and I get ready to tackle him for his weapon—but his skull explodes in blood and brain matter as a bullet goes right through it. He crumples to the ground.

I don’t know who shot him, but I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth. I scramble toward Roman while he attempts to stand up in the slick mud.

I stab him in the gut. Roman cries out, reaching for me, but I kick him away. Then I stab him again, this time cutting him open from chest to navel, and I hear his pained screams even over the thundering rain.

I stand there and watch as he writhes in agony, and I step onto the open wound.

“Yes, I’m fucking Kotya,” I say. “And his future wife. She’s pregnant, by the way. Their child will inherit everything. Whatever you thought belonged to you? It’s Kotya’s now.”

Roman gasps and raises his hand.

It falls back to the muddy ground. His body stills completely.

I stare at his dead body even as the rain continues to come down around us.

I’m still standing over Roman when somebody approaches me. I grip my knife and get ready to attack.

It’s Nikolai.

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