Prologue II
I’ve been single for four years. Please congratulate me for my bachelor’s degree in singleness.
— Dima to Shasha
DIMA
“ You’re too dangerous to be allowed back into the military.”
That wasn’t even a fucking thing.
“ What ?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard correctly.
“ Highly trained individuals like yourself can’t just go back into the regular military. Rank and all that will be questioned, and it’s never going to work. It’ll be too frustrating having to take orders from people that you feel aren’t as qualified as you. Trust me,” he informed me.
Years ago, I’d joined the military because I wanted to fly.
I did fly, for a bit.
Then someone who knew someone who was connected to another someone found out that I was Shasha Semyonov’s brother, pakhan of the Russian Bratva . From that moment forward, my military life had changed.
Gone were my dreams of flying, though I still did it, just not nearly as often as I’d liked. In the place of my flight career had been a new, not wholly unwelcome, path in life.
Killing for the United States government.
But , like my handler had just informed me, taking orders had rankled, and I was tired of the bullshit.
I didn’t want to kill people they deemed necessary.
I questioned everything and wanted proof.
I didn’t care that I killed.
I cared who I killed.
And today’s kill order, a member of government in a country that was loyal to us, had been my last straw.
I wasn’t willing to kill a pregnant woman.
I certainly wasn’t going to kill a pregnant woman with no information as to why I was killing her.
I didn’t just kill without thought.
And my handlers were tired of me pushing back.
Today I’d pushed back, and I’d gotten the ‘do it or else.’
I’d chosen ‘or else.’
I’d quit.
They’d threatened.
And I’d told them in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t one to be messed with.
My brother knew everything I did.
He knew where I was, what I was doing, and who was pulling my strings.
The moment that they fucked with me, they fucked with the Russian Bratva , and they wouldn’t like the consequences if they did the ‘or else’ they threatened.
“ You’re dismissed from the US Military ,” my handler said. “ Don’t fuck this up.”
I caught my papers and headed for the door, but not without my last parting shot.
“ That woman y’all wanted me to kill?” I announced. “ She knows that you’re wanting to do it. You send someone else to do it, and you’ll be getting a war you didn’t expect on your hands.”
The handler cursed.
I kept walking, heading for my car.
A smile was firmly in place on my face as I drove away.