Page 244 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

Just as a group of men emerge from the forest.

They step out from behind the trees. Within seconds, I’m surrounded. Guns swivel up to aim at my chest.

I keep my expression mildly surprised as I take them in. There’s only four of them—not as many as I’d been expecting.

Their faces are unfamiliar to me, and their clothes suggest that they’re locals.

Definitely not Budimir’s men.

The realization makes me more confident.

Despite that, however, I’m aware that these aren’t just run-of-the-mill villagers. My best guess pegs them as muscle for one of the local cartels. I can see the hardness in their wolf-like expressions.

But small-time cartel men, I can handle. So the fact that there’s four of them doesn’t worry me in the slightest.

Still, I play it cool just to be safe, looking around at them with a slightly puzzled expression on my face.

I don’t even attempt to act afraid.

Fear was never something I could fake.

“Oye, I don’t want trouble,” I say, even as I keep my hand firmly on my rifle. “I’m just out here deer hunting. I don’t want to get in the middle of something here.”

One of the men takes a step forward, marking him as the leader of this group. He’s the skinniest man present, so I assume the other guys, all bigger and beefier, are his muscle.

He has narrow eyes that are too close together and a sharp, hooked nose that make him look like a cartoon villain.

The man to my left is the tallest of them all, probably an inch or two shorter than I am, and he’s got a jagged scar on his face that cuts across his nose.

The guy on my right has long, white blonde hair that he’s tied back in a feminine ponytail.

The fourth and final one, I note with a glance behind me, has yellowed, rotting teeth set in tobacco-stained gums. He keeps his mouth open the whole time, as though he’s proud of it.

“Deer hunting, eh?” the leader says, clicking his tongue derisively.

“That’s right. But no luck today. I was just heading back into town now.”

“Now, there’s no reason to run off,” he coos. “We just want to have a little chat with you.”

“About what?” I say, unable to keep the boredom from my voice.

This little shit thinks he has me scared. I can see it in the arrogant posture, the way his gun hand dangles at his side.

He’s nothing to me. Out here in this rural parts, the men think they’re tough. They don’t know the meaning of the word.

They don’t know what I’ve. What I’m capable of doing if they cross me.

Motherfucker’s playing with a big dog now.

“You just passing through town?”

“Yup,” I say carefully. “Just passing through. Needed a little vacation and I thought I’d get in some fresh mountain air.”

The leader looks around at his men as though weighing my words against their reactions. It’s a lot of play-acting, in my opinion. They’re trying to seem more impressive than they actually are.

“Sounds like a load of mierda to me,” the leader says.Bullshit.

I shrug. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

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