Page 120 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

Even Ludmil doesn’t dare voice that sentiment, as he calls up everyone he can, taking reports. He doesn’t need to.

I’ve been in the game long enough to know an empire-killing mistake when I see it. After all, it was precisely what I built my own empire on—others’ weaknesses. Kingpins who got too cozy and too cocky. Gangs that started thinking their superiority was based on anything other than the strength they could wield.

A mirthless smile stretches my lips.

How the tables have turned. Now, I’m the overconfident fool. The one who lost sight of what was important. I allowed myself to get distracted. And I will have to pay the price.

The only question is, how high will that price be?

My hands curl into fists. To be standing up here, while everywhere around the city, my men burn—there’s no excuse for it.

I storm back inside, back to Ludmil seated at a table with his head in his hands. “Where are our worst odds? Where have the Skull Kings outnumbered us the worst?”

He doesn’t answer.

I slap the table hard. He bolts upright. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Brampton,” Ludmil says. “Radovan and his men are there fighting for their lives. Hemmed in on all sides.”

I nod, striding out the door. “We’re going there.”

“Boss?”

“Enough of this sitting around here, trying to think of a strategy that doesn’t exist.”

It’s back to the old way: beating our enemies not because we have more men or better men or even a better plan, but because we are ready to put it all on the line. Because we will do what no one else would dare or expect.

“Have every man who can get away go there. Tell them I will be there. Tell them it’s time to finish it.”

We will not skulk and cower while the Skull Kings mass up and slaughter us. If we are to die, we will do it together, and we will do it well. We will take out every one of those vermin that we can.

Ludmil makes the calls and texts as we rush to the van, talking about how the van’s loaded up already with our motorcycles and more weapons if we need them.

Just outside the door, Rudy is waiting. He makes a noise that’s halfway between strangling and coughing. He knows something is happening, though we’ve been careful never to give him enough details to piece it all together. But he’s no fool. He knows what kind of man I am. It terrifies him—as it should.

“Yes?” I snap.

“Your interview with FOX News. Cindy Mackenheimer. It’s scheduled in five minutes …”

“No,” I say. “My men need me.”

“We can’t afford to lose everything at once,” Ludmil interrupts quietly.

What he means is that all of this death will be for nothing if I give up on the campaign I’ve poured everything into.

I growl inwardly. “Fine.” My brain is working in five different directions. There must be a way. “How long will it take us to get to Brampton?”

Ludmil casts an eye out at the traffic, at the way the driver is stepping on the pedal like his life depends on it. “Twenty-five minutes, I’d say.”

I nod to Rudy. “Get her on the phone now. Tell her she has fifteen minutes.”

He nods and scrambles to do as he was told.

* * *

“So glad you could fit me in, Mr. Vaknin,” the reporter, Cindy-something, says in a pissy tone.

“Of course.”

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