Page 82 of Dark Promise (Suvorov Bratva 1)

Captain Sharp chuckles. “You bet, don. This kind of shit shakes up the whole force. Gets the boys excited. You know what I mean? So I had my guys put their ears to the ground and they came back with a name: Kiril Malinsky.”

“One of Pavel’s.”

“Word on the street is he had his stars removed.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That boy’s making strides. I wonder what Kiril did to piss off his old boss.”

“Rumors have been flying around about him rebelling against Pavel, gathering his own men, and working on some grand plan for himself. Mostly talk, but that’s how it starts.”

Clouds darken the sky, blotting the harsh rays of sunlight invading my office. I rock my seat with a giddiness I haven’t felt since I killed Bernadetti. “Get in touch with this Malinsky character, Captain.”

“What should I tell him, Don Cardona?”

“Tell him that I want to sit down with him, get friendly, and work out a deal.” I smile warmly. “Tell him the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Make it clear we both have a vested interest in getting rid of Pavel Suvorov.”

I hear the captain scribbling furiously in the background. “Yes, Don Cardona. I’ll get right on it.”

I smile maliciously while imagining Pavel’s throat in my hand. Eyes bulging. Tongue swelling. Skin turning blue. It’s what I need to regain control.

And then, I can kill those Bernadetti brats. Hell, maybe I’ll even take the girl for a spin before I put one in her head.

“Don’t waste time, Captain,” I say as I retain my grin. “Make an introduction this afternoon. And make sure Kiril Malinsky knows that I won’t take no for an answer.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kiril

I squeeze the steering wheel, listening to the leather squeal beneath my grip as I drive toward the city limits. Faded stars twinkle in the sky above as streetlamps splash yellow orbs over my windshield. My jaw twitches as I adjust the seat belt, shift my position in the seat, and tinker with the rear-view mirror. I repeat the movements once, twice, and then a third time for good measure.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I’m alone for now. And that’s exactly what I need to think.

City buildings trade out for dingy apartment structures. Those fade into dilapidated warehouses, crumbling meat-packing plants, and abandoned docks seated on the lake. Even with the windows up, I smell the salty air dense with musk that only comes from the city dumping its shit into the river.

The whole place is shit. Good riddance.

Chain-link fences curl toward the ground like peeling paint. Grass grows in thick tufts from cracks in the sidewalk. Empty barrels line the corner of one intersection with a fire raging in one of them. A few homeless men hover near the flames while holding brown bottles; shopping carts litter the ground behind them. Some tents sprout up.

Behold, my kingdom, I think bitterly.This is what I have left since Pavel betrayed us all. I’m just a man on the run.

Despite some signs of life, this place is a ghost town. No one comes back here. It’s the perfect place to host a dirty meeting.

I cough.Or kill someone.

My gaze darkens as I whip out my phone. I tap on my daughter’s name and wait for her to answer. Always waiting for her to fucking answer her phone like I’m a replaceable wallet instead of her father. Ring after ring forces me to open up a text instead.

“Need I remind you that I have a meeting?” I check the screen to make sure the text is correct and then continue, “This wasyouridea. Answer the phone, Zoya.”

I send the text. I wait. I don’t get a response.

As per fucking usual.

I sigh and turn on the voice message. “I know you’ve been angry since the wedding, Zoyechka, but acting like a whore isn’t going to change anything. It won’t get Pavel back. It won’t get my stars back.”

I suck air between my teeth, but I don’t say anything more.

She hates it when I say she’s whoring it up, I think while sending the text.But it’s fucking true. She’s turned into a slut. And it’s all Pavel’s fault.

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