Page 35 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

ALEKS

“He shit himself.”

I chuckle at Demyan, my right-hand man. “I knew it. Under all the bravado, that Albanian fuck is just a scared little boy. What was the outcome?”

“As expected. He returned all the money he siphoned off on the side,” Demyan tells me with obvious satisfaction.

I lean back in my seat and nod. “Did you take interest?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he retorts. “Of course I did. Twelve percent.”

I raise my eyebrows. “We usually only take ten.”

“He was dressed like a fucking pimp,” Demyan explains. “Lime green zoot suit, paid for with our money. It pissed me off, so I took an extra two percent.”

“Does he know that?”

“I made sure he did.”

I smirk. “Is that all you did, sobrat?”

Demyan sits down in the chair opposite me. We’re in the garden, looking out over the Boston ivy and bougainvillea that frame the western expanse of the lawn.

“I also made him remove the suit.”

“And then?”

“… And then I set it on fire.”

The laugh bursts from my lips. “Well, all things considered, he got off easily. How long did you give him to pay off the interest?”

“Two weeks.”

I frown. “He has to pay back one point four million in two weeks? He’s going to run for the hills, Demyan.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Demyan licks his lips like a hyena about to pounce on his prey.

The comparison suits him well. Demyan may be almost two heads shorter than me, but what he lacks in height, he makes up in presence. His deadly blue eyes are sharp and merciless. His body is lean and wiry, but it’s covered head to toe in tattoos. The only part of him that’s left untouched is his face. Well, almost untouched—just a tiny dagger inked underneath his left eye. He had it done after our first big fight. Right after I took over the reins and became don of the Makarova Bratva.

“Enough about my errands,” he says dismissively. “What about yours?”

“I have the girl.”

“Which one?” Demyan asks.

“The younger sister. Olivia.”

Demyan glances towards me, his shrewd eyes picking up on my body language. “It went smoothly, I take it?”

“It went perfectly,” I confirm.

“But…?”

There’s no sense lying to Demyan. The man knows me well. “She’s more… attractive than I expected.”

He chuckles. “So fuck her and be done with it.”

I hoist my leg up and rest it on the table sitting between us. “Already did.”

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