Page 68 of Deceitful Vows

Thirty of my best men, dressed in black, hurry silently toward the building and rush through the main doors. We hold onto the advantage of surprise and numbers, leaving nothing to chance. The pumping bass covers the sound of our gunshots, but the dazed partiers start realizing what’s happening when the bodies begin falling on the dance floor.

Then the panic starts.

A bone-rattling explosion comes from the back of the building. And instantly, the back of the building crumbles, preventing a way out. Screams soon eclipse the noise of fighting as my men take careful aim at Novikov’s guards.

Our faces are concealed with dark gaiters, but they know who we are. Guards scramble for their guns, but it’s a futile gesture. Their bodies crumple to the ground and we advance calmly past them in a line.

“Up there.” I hear it through my Bluetooth headphones. My gaze rises to the upper VIP area. Novikov’s guards think they can regain control from there, but they’re wrong. My men shoot out the lights, plunging us into solid darkness and increasing the pandemonium in the place. With their night vision goggles on, my men keep firing without pause.

I hurry up the metal stairs to the second level in search of Gleb. People run past me, trying to get out of this nightmare. There’s no way out of my hell—not for them. Not for me. Not for anybody.

One of my men calmly walks past me, taking aim at his targets. I stop him.

“Check the rooms. Find him.”

I scan the floor below as my men fan out and efficiently do their job. The precision of training pays off every time. And my lips curl into a satisfied grin. This is my talent and birthright.

If she understood, Paige would be proud of me tonight.

No, you fool. She would be horrified at what you’ve become.

We try each door to the private rooms. Some open, and some do not. We shoot the locks to see who is inside. Some are hiding, and others are oblivious to what is happening outside the room. Before they can reach for their clothes, they all fall dead.

“This one is locked, Andrei Vasilyevich.”

I nod, and Yuri takes off the lock with one bullet.

I don’t shoot out the light as I enter. Maybe I should. The walls are covered with a garish red wallpaper, which clashes with a gold bedspread and animal print pillows on the king bed. Posters of naked women hang on the walls, along with framed photos of classic muscle cars. The television is playing music videos at top volume. Gleb sits on a huge gold throne with his legs spread open and the telltale white powder of cocaine on his face.

His pants are off, and two girls are working on him. Their mouths stick to him like they’re attached with glue.

It’s the trashiest thing I’ve ever seen.

One of the girls tumbles off Gleb’s lap, a bullet hole in her forehead, and the other one screams, running for the door. High on coke, Gleb scrambles for his gun, but he fumbles it, letting it fall to the floor.

I eye him with red-hot hate. “Ego will get you killed.”

He nods. Not because he agrees with me but because he’s too high to hold his head straight.

“Check the rooms again,” I tell Yuri. “In case anyone else is hiding.”

I’m alone with Gleb, and he stares at me, his head bobbing up and down. He can’t hold it steady with all that shit up his nose and in his veins. Did he underestimate me? Or was he always like this?

“You shoot me, and I’ll still come after you, Barinov.” He threatens me sloppily, his mouth working faster than his brain.

I grab him by the collar of his white polo shirt, and he looks ridiculous naked from the waist down. His dick shrivels tight against his body. A stupid boy playing a man’s game. Gleb can’t handle what he started, and I should just end it now. But that’s not the plan, and I will stick to my plan.

I place the end of the gun to his temple. “Boom,” I smirk as he yelps out, flinching. “My sister sends her regards, Gleb. Next time, I’ll send mine.”

I drop Gleb on the floor, and he freezes when he sees what his hand landed on. The dead hooker. He immediately jumps away from her body and shakes his hands as if to get rid of the touch.

“I’ll kill you, Barinov. You will die for this.”

I skillfully pick up his gun from the floor and slide it into my belt.

“You should have died along with your fucking father at that wedding!” he shrieks at me like a child.

“Then you should’ve done it yourself,” I reply.

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