Page 12 of No Promises, No Lies

THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE

RORY

We’ve no sooner entered the club before Petr’s phone ringsagain. He holds it up to his ear, one hand over the receiver. “Take her up to the office,” he shouts in Russian at the two guys who escorted us into the building before turning and disappearing back outside.

I stare after him. I’m immediately uncomfortable being left with the two unfamiliar men in the dark sultry light of the gentlemen’s club.The sun has barely set, but business at Elements is already in full swing.

The club caters to an upscale clientele. However, it doesn’t matter how much money you have—sleazy men are sleazy men. Having money just makes them more dangerous.

As we move through the busy floor, I’m instantly aware of how short my skirt is. It falls in a triangle, with the upper part of my thighs on full display. I grip the sleeves of my hoodie in my fingers and resist the urge to tug the hem down as we weave through the busy club floor.

I feel eyes on me but keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with any of the patrons or dancers we pass. The tantalizing beat of the music only increases my anxiety.

Quickening our pace, we move directly for the far stairs; the ones guarded by a hulking bouncer. He nods a curt greeting as we pass him; the two men in suits leading me up to the back offices—and VIP rooms.

It’s a major red flag we are here at all. I’ve been to Elements before to see my father, but only when it was closed or early in the morning. Never while it was open. As much effort as my father has put in to shield me from his world, being here at all suggests whatever is happening out in the city is a big fucking deal.

But as weird as the car ride over had been, everything inside Elements appears to be business as usual.

The two men ahead of me speak rapidly to each other in Russian as I follow them down the narrow corridor, passing by a series of numbered doors.

I’m quiet, listening to every word they exchange.

It’s work to school my face so I don’t show a reaction, but they’re barely paying me any attention. I discern there have been multiple hits tonight on Bratva strongholds, all over the city, all different locations.No one knows who yet.

The hits were coordinated attacks, targeting crucial supply lines and storage facilities. I can’t help the sigh of relief when they confirm that last they heard, both my father and Niko are still alive. I’m uncertain what would happen to me if they died.

“Your father is on his way.” The taller of the two men turns my way, addressing me for the first time. The sudden switch over to English surprises me and I manage a terse nod in response. The men show me into my father’s office before pulling the door closed behind me, remaining in the hall.

The overhead lights are off in the empty office, but flashes of light and a soft neon pink glow blankets the room. Opposite the door sits a wall of soundproof glass; windows overlooking the entire first floor of the club. I walk slowly over, my eyeswidening at the scantily clad girls spinning on poles or dancing provocatively in the cages hanging from the ceiling.

I scan the crowd with a growing sense of despair. I’d always known who my father is, but it is one thing to know and something else entirely to experience it firsthand. Life within the Bratva still feels surreal. Like a bad dream from which I can never wake up.I miss the quiet, suburban life my mother and I shared. Privacy, freedom… safety.

Commotion on the floor below catches my attention. I see flashes of light and hear loud popping sounds, loud enough to permeate the soundproof glass. In a second, all hell breaks loose.

Club patrons dive for the floor. The dancers run screaming for the back room hidden behind the bar.

Men flood in through the entrance of the club, standing out in the crowd of suits with their dark colors and obscured faces as they engage in a brutal firefight with the Bratva already inside the club.

I watch, mesmerized, and still as stone, at the horror show playing out before me in muted fascination. One of the masked men in front shoots a male patron on his knees, point blank.

The man is dead before his body hits the floor. I can feel the fear and the terror coursing through me, but can’t make myself do anything in response to it. Stunned, I stare down at the body of the patron. Blood pools around his head, and his eyes are frozen open in fear.

Shattering glass breaks me out of my state of shock. Struck by a stray bullet, the window overlooking the floor falls before me in a sheet. The screams, the shouts, the gunshots flood in. The sounds are overwhelming alongside the music still blasting at full volume.

I hit the floor and cover my ears for several minutes until the sound of gunfire finally dies down. I jump at eachpopIhear now, only sounding out once every thirty seconds.They’re taking care of any survivors.Sweat coats my palms.

An eerie silence falls. Someone has finally turned off the music.

Heart racing, I tentatively lift my head just high enough to allow myself to peer down onto the floor below without making myself obvious. Men I don’t recognize walk through the space.Maskedmen.

The Bratva have lost the firefight.

Not good.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkkk.

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