Page 37 of Azrael

“The Quadirs have deep connections,” Charming mused, running a hand through his graying hair.“Getting to Mazida in Tel Aviv won’t be easy.”

“And what’s our interest here?”asked Magnus, one of the quieter members who rarely spoke unless he had something important to say.“Why is this club business?”

I started to speak, but Stripes cut me off.“Zara is Azrael’s woman.Isn’t that enough reason?”

Several of the older members nodded.I could tell the thought of us going to the Middle East to retrieve Mazida bothered the younger ones.I couldn’t blame them.It wasn’t high on my list of places to visit.Despite how beautiful it looked in pictures online, I had a feeling we’d get into trouble fast.

“If Balal Quadir is working with the Tel Aviv crime families, we could be looking at a new pipeline for drugs and weapons coming into our territory.The fact they came to Florida for her means they had time to scope things out.Lots of ways for them to smuggle shit into this state.We’re surrounded by water on three sides for fuck’s sake.Getting Mazida back gives us leverage and information.”Charming eyed each of us.“Makes you wonder what he noticed and what his future plans might be.”

I sat back, letting them frame it as club business.Sure, Zara was mine.But, as far as they knew, I’d claimed her as a way to keep her safe.No one knew I’d started to feel something for her.They didn’t need to know that somewhere along the way, the avenging angel had found something worth fighting for beyond vengeance.

“So what’s the play?”Phantom asked, cracking his knuckles one by one, a habit that usually signaled his readiness for violence.

“We need more information,” Charming said.“Contacts on the ground in Tel Aviv.Safe houses.Extraction routes.”

“My contacts can provide this.”Stripes nodded.“But it will take time.Few days, at least.”

“And money,” Doc pointed out.

“Club has money.”Ripper shrugged.“What is it there for if not for times like this?”

I studied the map, tracing the marked route from the States to Tel Aviv with my finger.The distance felt insurmountable, not in miles but in influence.We were powerful here, on our turf.There, we’d be strangers walking into someone else’s kingdom.

“We’ll need more than money and information,” I said finally.“We’ll need allies over there.Local muscle that knows the territory.And sat phones.We need secure lines.”

“Anatoly,” Stripes said, a slight smile appearing beneath his white beard.“Our President’s ex-best friend.He has connections with the Russian community in Israel.Many former FSB, military.”

“Can we trust him?”Charming asked.“Sure, he helped us once before, but that’s been a while.”

Stripes laughed, a harsh sound that held little humor.“Trust?No.But family is family.He will help because you ask, and because between you and me, we know enough secrets to destroy him if he betrays us.”

The old Russian’s frankness drew a few grim chuckles around the table.In our world, such arrangements were often more reliable than friendship or even blood.

“Then it’s settled,” Charming declared, looking each of us in the eye.“We’re going to get Mazida Quadir back.Stripes will coordinate with his contacts for intelligence.Havoc, you handle logistics -- transport, weapons, whatever we need.Doc, medical contingencies.Ripper, research on Balal Quadir and his associates.I want to know what we’re walking into.And, Shade, pull me everything you’ve got about every aspect of this mission.”

He turned to me last.“Azrael, you’ll be point on this.It’s your operation.Pick who you want to take.”

I nodded, feeling the assignment settle on my shoulders like a heavy load.It wasn’t just club business anymore -- it was officially my responsibility.As it should be.

“And Zara?”I asked.

Charming’s expression softened slightly.“Tell her what she needs to know.But keep her here.Last thing we need is an emotional civilian in the mix.”

I didn’t argue, though I already knew that conversation would be the hardest part of this whole operation.Telling Zara to sit and wait while we went after her mother would be like telling a wildfire to stay put.

As the meeting continued, with details being hashed out and plans taking shape, I found my thoughts drifting to my house and the woman waiting there, unaware that her world was about to shift again.Unaware that the man she’d sought out for help was now officially committed to giving it -- with the full might of the Devil’s Boneyard behind him.

The Russians hadn’t offered their assistance for nothing, and neither would anyone else.I only hoped whatever price was asked was one I or the club would be willing to pay.

The meeting was winding down, the initial shock of Stripes’ intel giving way to the cold calculation of men used to violence.I watched as Charming leaned forward in his seat, his hands splayed across the scattered documents.His eyes, still sharp despite the crow’s feet framing them, scanned each of our faces before he spoke.“We reach out to the Russian Mafia, officially this time,” he said, his voice conveying a decision already made.“I’ll contact Anatoly personally.”

No one objected.When Charming spoke like that, it wasn’t a suggestion.It was the road we’d be taking, whether we liked the terrain or not.

Around the table, the brothers began shifting in their seats, the wooden chairs creaking beneath leather cuts and tensed muscles.Phantom cracked his knuckles one last time.Doc removed his glasses, polishing them methodically with the edge of his shirt -- a ritual he performed whenever he was processing something troubling.Normally, we wouldn’t have brought him in on this type of discussion, which meant Charming was trusting him more and more.Havoc gathered the maps, folding them with military precision, while Ripper simply stared at his hands, his face a mask of contained violence.

“We move on this tomorrow,” Charming continued, pushing back from the table.“Get some rest.Clear your heads.Once we’re in motion, there won’t be time for second thoughts.I want your asses in Tel Aviv within the next few days, before we lose Mazida for good.”

As the men began to rise, collecting papers and exchanging quiet words, my attention caught on something half-hidden beneath one of Stripes’ intel reports.I reached out, sliding the document aside to reveal a small photograph.It wasn’t part of the intelligence packet -- it was personal.Zara smiled up at me, her blue eyes startling against her swarthy skin, a contradiction inherited from her mixed heritage.The photo must have fallen from my cut when I sat down.I’d swiped it from her mother’s house, feeling the need to have Zara with me even in this small way.

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