Page 55 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

The second the car is near-stopped, I’m out the door, taking in the scene.

Angry slashes of flames. Hoarse roars. Screaming, crying, running, and amongst it all, thepop-pop-popof bullets seeking their targets with deadly intentions. Finding Jaul won’t be easy. If he’s even still left to be found.

I crouch in a ready stance, creeping forward with my gun out. We need cover, but more than that, we need intel.

Something stirs a bit further on, swishing towards us. “Duck!” I yell.

Ludmil and I throw ourselves down, just in time to avoid a spray of bullets. “Fuckers,” my second hisses.

We whip around, giving them our own barrage of bullets. I hear the strangled yell that tells me one of them has found purchase, but we’re already moving on. Staying still is inviting death. To survive, to win—that requires constant forward motion.

Though the fact remains that we still need intel. I’d prefer to get it willingly from a man under my command. But if I have to wring information from a filthy Skull King rat, then I will not hesitate to do so.

The ground is a landmine of debris. The air stinks of burning skin. Someone somewhere is crying.

“Jaul!” Ludmil is yelling. “Jaul!”

Yells back could be from anyone for any reason. I grab my phone and call him up, let the phone ring and keep ringing. The Skull Kings know where we are by now, anyway.

And even if the lieutenant can’t answer, even if, right now, there’s about a thousand different sounds that could be blaring out that ring, if we just catch a murmur of it …

“Hold on.” I stop Ludmil and race behind some blasted-over electrical box for cover. “Listen.”

We sit perfectly still, holding our breath. I hear more of the same: gunshots, yelling, crumbling, crying, and then, beneath it, around it:rrring … rrring ...

“That way!”

We sprint towards the sound, guns at the ready. It’s coming from beyond the building, an alleyway bordered by brick walls.

We round the corner, and there he is. A shaking heap of human, gawping at the ringing phone like he can’t remember what it is. Jaul is bleeding from the belly, grimacing horribly.

“What happened?” Ludmil asks, rushing to the man’s side.

We crouch next to him. I scrunch up the fabric of Jaul’s button-up and press it to the entry wound as hard as I can in a last-ditch attempt to stanch the blood. But the damage is severe. I don’t know if he has much time left at all.

Jaul blinks a few times purposefully. Then, his mouth falls open and a sound falls out, “Skull …”

Footsteps approach. We race for a garbage can, dragging Jaul with us as fast as we can manage.

But not fast enough to avoid the shower of bullets from the approaching group.

I glance over my shoulder. Five of them. All armed. All white leather jackets emblazoned with the same symbol: a grinning skull with a burning crown.

Skull Kings.

It’s too bad, really. They don’t know yet. They could have fifteen and the odds would still be stacked against them.

Because I am Gavril fucking Vaknin. And no biker scum is going to best me. Not today. Not ever.

From behind the garbage can, we slither our guns out, and—

Bang-bang.

Bang-bang.

Bodies hit the floor.

They’re advancing, but we’ve already got two down. Another shot, another dead, and the other two turn tail and run. As I expected.

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