Page 39 of Sergei
“It’s done.” I ran my hand over my day-old beard. “Alek and the guards are dead.”
It felt good to say the words, but they were bittersweet.
I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to put the blade at Alek’s throat and feel the fight leave him as I dragged it across his carotid artery. I wanted him to look up and see that it was me who’d stolen his last breath. I wanted him to know that I’d been the one who’d been his undoing. It wasn’t like he didn’t have it coming. He’d done nothing but backstab and hurt anyone who got in his way, including his wife. I wanted to put an end to it all, but desire was different from strategy.
Cameras. Witnesses. The wrong taxi driver remembering my face.
Any small thread of evidence would have the entire plan unravel. And it wouldn’t just come back on me. It would be on usall, and I wasn’t selfish enough to burn everyone I cared about for a taste of revenge.
Regardless, the deed was done, and it had been done well. But that didn’t mean I could let go completely. I knew better than that. In the life we lived, the war was never truly over.
You cut off one head, and another grows back in its place.
There was still a chance for a fallout or backlash, but only time would tell. For now, I would consider this battle a win.
Creed crossed his arms and asked, “And the cadaver?”
“It was placed before the fire,” Preacher answered.
Bog was actually the one who’d come up with the idea of making it look like Alina had died in the fire. He knew the family would come looking for Alina, unless they had a reason not to. So, Preacher’s boys in New York pulled from their resources and acquired an unclaimed female from the morgue.
She had Alina’s build and hair color, and they’d even managed to find her wedding ring in Alek’s dresser. They slipped it on the girl’s finger, then dressed her in Alina’s clothes and jewelry and placed her in the bed.
None of it was perfect, but the fire would help. Dental records could be tricky, but money had a way of convincing the right examiner to see what you told them to see. By the time investigators sifted through the wreckage, the story would be clear. Alek Morozov was a monster, and his empire crumbled at the hands of the Albanians, making them one step closer to taking over the territory.
Preacher took another drag from his cigarette before saying, “Now, we wait and see if they believe it’s Alina. If they buy it, we’re in the clear.”
Creed’s jaw tightened, and I could tell something was bothering him. I wasn’t surprised. He was always ten steps ahead. He cocked his brow and asked, “And we’re sure they’re gonna think the Albanians were behind it all?”
“Can’t imagine why they wouldn’t. Hell, they slit his father’s throat in broad daylight less than twenty-four hours ago. Killed two guards. Wounded the mother. She’s still in the ICU. It’s all over the news.”
Creed’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t say a word.
So, I continued, “Two brothers were dumped in the harbor. Fingers cut off. Tongues gone. They’re making the message clear.”
Jenson shifted in the corner before interjecting, “I saw this morning that a stash house got torched. They burned everyone inside, including the women and children. It was all kinds of fucked up.”
“Damn.” Goose shook his head as he entered the room. “These guys don’t fuck around.”
“Yeah, and it’s only going to get worse from here. It’s make-or-break time for those remaining, and everyone knows it.” I glanced back over at Creed as I said, “And don’t forget all the evidence we had them put in the safe. That will keep them busy for weeks.”
“No doubt.” Preacher leaned back in his chair and took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke billow around him. “Either way. It buys us some time.”
He wasn’t wrong. But there was no satisfaction in his words for me. Only the weight of inevitability. When it came to a war like this, it didn’t matter how careful you were. When blood hit the street, it spread. And we’re just close enough to catch some of the splatter.
“So, what are you gonna do about the girl?” Creed gave me one of his looks. “She gonna stay or are we going to find her a place to…”
“She’s staying.”
The words came out before I had a chance to really think them through. Jenson’s gaze flicked up, and Preacher looked atme like he knew something I didn’t. I felt the urge to defend myself and tell them that it was the way it had to be, but the longer she was there, the harder it became to think of her as temporary.
Preacher cocked his brow. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s not like I’m just going to kick her to the curb.”
“Not saying that.” Creed took a step forward. “Just thinking, if we’re gonna do it, this would be the best time to set her up some place. We could send her…”
“No. We aren’t sending her anywhere.” My voice was low and absolute. “It would be like tossing her out to the wolves. I won’t do it.”
