Page 54 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

His voice is hazy, indistinct, and choked with pain. “We’ve been hit … They …” He coughs. “I … we need help … Burning.” He coughs again. It sounds like he might retch up a lung. His end of the line is so smoky I can practically smell it. In the background, I hear the sounds of chaos: yells, screams, smashing.

“You’re at Barlbaro Place?”

“Yeah … we …”

“We’re heading there now.” I hang up. The lieutenant sounded distracted enough as it is.

“What do you think it is?” Ludmil asks as we jog outside.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“And you’re sure you want to come—”

I stop. “I chose you as my second-in-command because you’re a close friend, not a yes-man and not a second-guesser. Was I wrong?”

“No, of course not, Gavril. Apologies.” He bows his head like a whipped dog. Ludmil does a good job of looking chastened.

I move on. “Good. I need you at your best right now, Ludmil. We don’t yet know what we’re about to deal with.”

The black Range Rover has pulled up. My valet hops out of the driver’s seat to make way for me, and we jump in. The press of a button reveals our hidden weapons compartment.

‘Deal with’ is a misleading term. What I really meant was: we are about to put down whatever delusional fucks think they can mess with the Vaknin Bratva and get away with it.

* * *

On the way there, we load up on weapons and bulletproof vests. I consider calling the lieutenant back to get more intel, but I’d rather keep him alive and alert if at all possible, and it sounded as though his full attention was required at the scene. Instead, I call up Parker, instructing him to bring reinforcements.

I regard Ludmil with amusement. We’ve both strapped on our bulletproof vests and outfitted ourselves with our AR-15 machine guns, but he’s got an Uzi too. “You really like that thing,” I comment drily.

“It’s been too long,” he says dreamily in response, licking his lips like he’s about to dive into a delicious meal. Ludmil’s all smiles, his watery blue eyes rabid and edgy.

Before the fight, it’s always like this. I can feel it, too. Under my skin, like an extra bulletproof layer—the fizz of excitement. The pump of adrenaline. The thrill of waging fucking war.

Whoever did this—whoever made this mistake—is about to realize the full clout of my retribution.

“Think it’s the Skull Kings?” Ludmil asks.

“Maybe.” The possibilities are endless. Every man in the city wants a piece of my crown. None have been able to snatch it yet. I doubt today is the day I lose it.

“Has to be,” he muses. “No one else would be this stupid.”

There was a time when even the Skull Kings wouldn’t be this brash. But now …

They’ve gotten too bold. I need to win that goddamn mayoral election. And as for Joy—

Well, I suppose it’s not the time for thoughts like that.

“If it is, then we’re in luck.”

Ludmil smiles grimly in agreement and cocks the Uzi he’s been fondling like a second cock. “Then I’ll really be able to make it rain.”

The Skull Kings’ main strength—their sheer numbers—is also the solution to ridding myself of them. They’re cowards when their ranks are thinned. Shoot enough of them and they go scattering like worker ants.

Our vehicle shrieks up to the site, and my hand tightens on my rifle.

This is it.

The building itself is another apartment complex—or was, anyway. Now, it’s fuel to my fire, the fan to my flames. Now, it’s some assholes signing their own death warrant and handing me the sharpened knife to finish the job.

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