Page 14 of Zafira

He waited, allowing the world to fall still around him. The distant sounds of the city faded, leaving only the soft whisper of the midday breeze. Time seemed to stretch as he prepared to take the shot. The weight of the moment hung in the air. The door swiveled open, and as he had seen many times before, the Goliath, Bogdan Rusu, hovered over Zafira, protecting her from harm with his humongous body.

With a final, controlled breath, Luciano gazed through the scope.

“No... they have to suffer first. Fuck what he wants. I’m not doing Zafira first. She must go last. That’s what I want. For every single Guzun to suffer the loss I had to with my grandfather and father at their hands. And once they are broken and vulnerable, it’ll be their turn.” His face hardened. “Not to mention what that fucking Andrei did to me.” He cringed at the memory of the furious man cutting off his manhood. Shaking off the depression that threatened to pull him under, he peered at his target one more time. “No, they have to suffer.” Decision made, his finger relaxed from the trigger as he moved the scope to gaze at Vanya who followed behind her mother.

“Now, what do we have here?” A delighted laugh exploded from his lips. “The bitch is breeding! Oh, now, isn’t that just perfect? Andrei Rusu, it’s going to be such a pleasure to make you suffer.” A cruel seed took root in his mind. “You’re not only going to mourn the loss of your lovely wife, Rusu. You’re going to regret the day you ever met me.” He remained still for a moment, watching the three people climb into a black GMC SUV. Only once the convoy of four cars moved out of sight did he rise and dismantle his rifle.

“Finally, I have found a way to make Andrei Rusu pay for what he did to me. And believe me, you bastard, you’ll suffer for as long as you breathe air.”

A luxury yacht in the Black Sea, one-hundred-and-fifty miles off the Romanian coast...

“What do you mean you decided she has to die last?” The anger in the man’s voice wasn’t suppressed well. In fact, he made no effort to hide the irritation from Luciano Maranzano. He was beginning to realize more and more that he had made a mistake in trusting the Sicilian mobster to take orders. As a once god-like Don of the Mafia, he didn’t abide well to conforming to the wishes of others. The fact that he had orchestrated and prepared his own escape from imprisonment should’ve been warning enough.

Even though he didn’t have full access to the cash he had stashed across the globe, he had enough power and support to still garner a force majeure event—the one thing that no one wanted at this point, at least not until they had achieved their goal. Zafira Guzun was situating herself in a position to ride the wave of success on the foundation of what the Maranzanos had been building for years—global power. It was little wonder that Luciano was so furious and willing to do anything to stop her and her family from attaining what was rightfully his birthright.

A sly smile turned the man’s lips askew. Well, in truth, the Maranzanos couldn’t lay such a claim... the birthright could be claimed by anyone with criminal intent. In the end, the accolade would go to the one who rose above the rest. Who had the foresight, the money, and the will to succeed.

Like he did, and no one was going to stand in his way. Not Zafira Guzun and sure as hell not Luciano Maranzano. If the Sicilian refused to follow his orders, he would be the first to walk with the fish, wearing concrete boots. He might have been an ally over the years, but loyalty would only survive if he conformed and realized he didn’t have the power he did in the past. A shift had happened while Luciano had been wallowing in self-pity in Estonia.

There was a bigger, crueler, and much more dangerous shark swimming in the waters now.

“You heard me. I have a much better plan in store for the Guzuns.” Maranzano resolutely cut him short before he could voice the words rising to his lips. “Don’t worry, my friend, what I intend will not only cripple the Guzuns as a whole, but it will also leave Zafira Guzun in ashes. By the time she and her family recover from the shock and horror of what I am going to do, we will already be fully cemented in the position as leaders of global crime.”

“If you’re naive to believe that I will sit back and allow you to make decisions, you don’t know me that well, Luciano. I have too much riding on this to watch Zafira Guzun walk away scot-free. Either you do what I told you to do, or I will find someone who will. You’ve been playing a cat-and-mouse game with them for years. I sat back watching, but my patience has run out. The time has come to take control. You can walk the path of success with me, or you can happily hop and skip after the Guzuns until your heart’s content, but Zafira Guzun won’t be one of them. I want her out of the way, Luciano. That is not negotiable, nor is it your decision to decide when she dies.”

“You’re the naive one if you believe the Guzun Bratva will come to an end should she and her three children die. They have the strongest and most loyal following. Nothing will change. Someone else will step up and continue. Either we cripple them as is my intent so that the entire organization crumbles and comes tumbling down around them, or you can go ahead. Kill Zafira and her brood. Proof will be in the pudding, my friend. You will see that I am right.” Luciano cracked a laugh. “My guess is that you already know that. You’re too clever not to have done your homework. Me being the assassin isn’t going to change the outcome. Now... are we going to do it my way, or are you happy to fail before you begin?”

“What is your way exactly, Luciano?”

“A flash of brilliance, my friend,” he preened as he briefly explained the devious plan that had been growing proportionally since the seed had taken root.

“You’re right,” the man’s voice darkened as glee flowed through him. Maranzano had indeed come up with a master plan. He dragged lazily on the cigar, enjoying the calming effect as the nicotine filled his lungs. His eyes followed the white whiff of smoke circling above him before it dissipated into the night. “Very well, but I want to be involved in every step you take. Finalize the details, Luciano. We’ll meet in two weeks to discuss the way forward.”

“Where?”

“You know the drill. I’ll send you the coordinates. Make sure you’re in Budapest two weeks from today, Luciano.”

“Why the fuck there?” he snapped irritably. “You know how difficult it is for me to travel across borders. In case you forgot, there’s a worldwide manhunt out for me.”

“I didn’t, but neither did I forget how clever you are with disguises. Pull one out of the bag, Luciano... like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. I have faith in you. You can do it.”

“Fuck you! This isn’t a movie—”

Flinging the stub of the cigar overboard, he summarily ended the call. He had no patience to debate the issue with Maranzano. An order had been given. It was time he realized just who swung the scepter in this saga.

Chapter Seven

Senza?ii de Club, located on a private estate on the border of Rose Valley Park, Chisinau, Moldova...

“Welcome back, Master Slayer.”

For the first time, Bogdan cringed at the reminder of the reputation that clung to him like a stigma. In certain circles, that was how he would always be remembered. The ubiytsa smerti, the death slayer, who cleaned the path of the Guzuns, especially those who dared hurt or threaten the Matriarch and her brood.

Now that he was about to become a grandfather, he wanted to be free from such a moniker. His grandchild was going to remember him as a caring and amusing grandpapä, not a Bratva. The decision had been made. He had walked away from the Bratva a year ago. Nothing and no one was going to make him return to a life of murder and mayhem.

“I heard you were back in the city and wondered when you’d show up here.” Alin Sava shook Bogdan’s hand. “In honesty, I missed your ugly face, my friend.”

“And I yours, Alin.” A smile slashed over his face. “Besides, you knew I’d be here since it’s the only club I ever play at.”

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