Chapter 2 – Artur
His toes barely grazed the concrete floor, his skin marked with bruises and fresh scars. He looked at me in terror, both hands chained above his head to a rafter. His breathing was labored, and his eyes were swollen from all the beating.
“Please…show mercy,” he whispered, his voice weak and strained. “I have a family.”
I sat in the dimly lit corner, the faint sound of my clinking cutlery cutting through the silence. Despite the stench of sweat and blood in the air, I ate at my table, enjoying my dinner.
The tines of my fork dug into a piece of steak, and I lifted it to my mouth. Ignoring the traitor’s cry for mercy, I took a bite and began chewing, savoring the flavors dancing on my tongue.
I reached for the half-filled glass of champagne on the table and grabbed it by the stem. After a few sips, I set it back down and continued eating.
Behind me, classical music drifted from a spinning LP, the needle whispering against vinyl. Its soft crackle threaded through the room as I ate in silence.
I looked at my lieutenant, Konstantin, then nodded for him to continue from where he left off. Without a word, he moved closer to the hanging man, knuckles cracking.
“No, please,” he pleaded.
The first punch to his guts drew a strained groan from his lungs. His battered face contorted in pain as the beating he took increased.
Personally, I hated men who lacked the spunk to face the consequences of their actions. They knew the rules and the punishment attached to breaking them.
Yet every once in a while, I was forced to deal with greedy bastards stupid enough to go against the brotherhood. And the worst part was having to listen to their pleas and empty promises about turning a new leaf.
Most of them, after being caught and tortured, would always claim to be sorry. But the truth was that they weren’t sorry for what they did. They only felt that way because they were fuckin’ caught.
I hated that term “sorry.”
Never had I granted mercy to a man who crossed the line. And even on the rare occasion a punishment other than death crossed my mind, that pesky little word ensured it never lasted.
The only reason this asshole was still breathing was because he was smart enough not to have used that word.
His name was Bogdan, and he was a traitor. The bastard stole an important Bratva ledger and sold it to a rival gang. The punishment for that was death. But I wasn’t about to let him off easy.
The sounds of his bones cracking and his flesh tearing added to the melody of the classical music in the background. Wonderful. His deep grunts grew deeper and more painful, weaker after each strike.
I waved my hand, and Konstantin held his next punch. Bogdan’s breathing came in heavy gasps, his face battered beyond recognition. The chair’s legs scraped against the floor as I rose to my feet, dabbing a napkin over my mouth.
I adjusted the bow tie around my neck, my menacing footsteps clicking against the concrete. His fear lingered in the air like bad breath as I approached with a steady gaze.
“I have a family,” he pleaded faintly. “A wife and a kid. Please….”
I halted in front of him, flexing my fingers at my sides. “Tell me, Bogdan,” I began, my voice low and even. “Did you think of your family when you stole from me?”
His swollen and bleeding lips trembled as he mumbled words I couldn’t quite catch.
My gaze scanned his sweaty skin until I noticed a broken rib. I reached out and casually pressed my fingers on it.
He threw his back and groaned deeply, his body shuddering in pure pain. The longer the weight of my hand crushed his broken rib, the louder his screams.
I withdrew a box of cigarettes and picked out a stick. Perched between my lips, I lit the damn thing, taking a long, satisfying drag.
Bogdan was shaking, sweating like a goat. “They haven’t picked it up yet,” he whimpered.
“What?” I let out a puff of smoke.
“The ledger,” he answered, straining to breathe. “They haven’t picked it up yet.”
“Where’s the location of the ledger?” I asked him.
He mentioned a college in the city. “I hid it in the library, where no one would think to look.”
With a calm, yet menacing tone, I growled, “You hid my ledger in a college library?”
“I swear, it’s safe,” he said, his voice laced with fear and desperation. “No one will ever think to find it there.”
“Bullshit,” Konstantin chipped in, his voice deep and raucous. “What about the people you sold it to?”
He went silent, shifting his gaze across the two of us. “I was never going to sell them the ledger. The plan was to double-cross them at the last minute.”
Silence.
“I swear on my mother’s grave.” He spat out blood. “I hid the original copy because I was going to sell them a fake one.”
After a moment of hesitation, I stretched out my hand, and Konstantin placed a pistol in my palm. Bogdan seemed to be telling the truth, but then again, he’d crossed a line.
I cocked the Glock and aimed it at his face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out.”
“I can be of help,” he answered. “They don’t know that I’ve been caught. I can use that to our advantage.”
I thought about it for a second.
That might not be such a bad idea after all. Those sick fucks didn’t have the slightest clue that the game had changed. So, instead of killing him, I could flip the switch and have him spy on them for me.
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief after I lowered my gun.
“You will go ahead and sell them the fake ledger,” I said, staring right at him. “And for your sake, you better pray that they buy it.”
His head dropped, his chin resting on his heaving chest. He was lucky I still found him useful; otherwise, he’d already be a corpse.
I turned to Konstantin. “Retrieve the ledger.”
He nodded.
I tucked my pistol back into my pants and walked away in silence.
***
The next morning, I was in my office, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window with a hand in my pocket. My gaze was overlooking the cityscape below as I dragged on my Cuban cigar, the smoke curling around my face.
The air was filled with the sweet aroma of brandy mixed with the scent of old paper and expensive leather.
I stood by the window, watching the sun rise over the horizon, its golden glow spreading across the concrete landscape. In the distance, the faint wail of sirens drifted through the air, a reminder that the city never truly sleeps.
The door opened behind me, and a set of familiar footsteps approached.
“Boss,” Konstantin called quietly.
I let out a puff of smoke and turned around to face him. He was holding a tablet in one hand and the ledger in the other.
“Retrieved.” He set the book on my table.
I didn’t speak a word.
“There’s something else,” he said.
My silence was his cue.
“Here.” Konstantin handed me the tablet.
I accepted the device. The first thing I saw on the lit screen was the CCTV footage of a young lady retrieving the ledger from a shelf.
My eyebrows drew together, accentuating the scowl on my face.
The CCTV captured her every move, and I couldn’t help being suspicious. She glanced over her shoulder a few times before grabbing the book, as if to be sure no one was watching.
“We don’t know how much she knows,” Konstantin’s voice sliced through the silence.
“Who is she?” I asked without taking my eyes off the footage.
“Celine Hart,” he answered. “A quick background check revealed she’s a business student at the university.”
“Is she a part of Bogdan’s plan?”
“I doubt it,” he replied. “She’s clean. No criminal record.”
Clean doesn’t mean innocent.
I watched the footage again and realized that after studying the book, she put it back exactly where she found it. At this point, two things could be true. This Celine girl was either working with the enemy, or she was just some nosy girl who couldn’t mind her own damn business.
Whatever the case, she had put her hands on my private ledger. She shouldn’t have. To make matters worse, she chose to download all the information in the book into her puny brain.
Konstantin was right; there was no telling how much she already knew about us. The things on there could put me away for good if they got into the wrong hands. I had no idea what she was going to do with such information.
Ideally, she should be eliminated at once.
But there was something about her that urged the killer in me to take a chill pill. At least for now. When I paused the footage at the right angle, my heart skipped a beat for the first time in a long time.
She was pretty. Not the prettiest I’d seen. But enough to make my heart jump. Something no woman had managed to do in quite a while.
I studied the curious girl, taking mental notes of every detail I could catch. From the footage, she seemed to stand at about five-foot-three or so. She was curvy, with warm honey-toned skin and dark curls that fell past her shoulders.
Her wide eyes held a glint of curiosity and defiance. She was wearing a red silk blouse over a plain black skirt—a style I found simple yet elegant. The pearl around her neck caught the light, as did the bracelet on her wrist.
“What should we do with her?” Konstantin asked me.
I told myself that I couldn’t order her elimination because she was a woman. I had an unspoken rule never to kill women and children. However, deep down, I knew my hesitation was on a much more personal level. It had nothing to do with her gender but everything to do with her as an individual.
“Bring her in. Alive,” I answered, my gaze still fixed on the paused footage on my screen.
He gave a curt nod and walked away.
The fact that she had no criminal record didn’t necessarily mean that she was innocent. I’d lived long enough to know that no one was to be trusted in this world. No one.
That said, it was of utmost importance that I found out who she was and what she already knew.