Chapter 2 — Nial
The ground beneath my feet trembled as a train rolled across the flyover above, its loud honk cutting through the night. I stood beneath the structure, with cars parked behind me and my armed men flanking me.
My eyes barely squinted against the wind, my black hair tousled, strands framing my face. Smoke curled into the air, the scent of tobacco drifting into my nostrils.
Under the cold and distant stars, I waited, filling my mind with the satisfaction yet to come. The rules were simple. Loyalty to the brotherhood till death.
These men knew the consequences of their actions. Yet some idiots still believed in their puny minds that they could misbehave and get away with it. How pathetic.
A black vehicle turned a corner, its headlights on, tires splashing into a puddle. It drove toward my men and me, then parked in front.
The driver stepped out of the car, and three others did the same from the backseat. Two of them walked over to the trunk, popped it open, and yanked a blindfolded man onto the pavement.
He pleaded in Russian as he was being dragged like a piece of rag along the jagged concrete. They tossed him at my feet, took his blindfold off, and towered over him.
His hands were zip-tied, and his eyes were swollen from the beating he had already taken before being brought here. The deep cut on his upper lip was still fresh and bleeding. His face was a mask of terror, his hands trembling as he looked up at me, almost in tears.
Another thing I hated as much as betrayal was cowardice. If you had the mind to turn your back on me, you should be willing to accept the consequences of your actions. Not this one. He was a pussy! I’d seen braver boys than this excuse of a man.
“Boss,” he called softly, his voice shaking. “Show mercy. Please.”
“Mercy?” My lips curled into a wicked grin. “What’s your name?” I asked him, my gaze unwavering.
He paused, eyes shifting across the men around him.
“Keep your focus on me, boy,” I said, retaining that evil smirk. “What’s your name?”
“Vik…Viktor.”
He was no more than twenty-five. Lanky. Tall. Brown hair and grey eyes. I hadn’t seen him before, but according to Boris, he was the thief who had been stealing from me for months now.
Boris was my trusted lieutenant, the one they called the One-Eyed Demon. He lost an eye three years ago in a battle with the Italians. Since then, he’d grown even more ruthless. Silent and deadly.
He was the one in charge of fishing out the parasites amongst us that needed to be cut off. He’d discovered Viktor’s crimes weeks ago, but I asked him not to raise an alarm until I was ready to make an example out of the unfortunate fool.
Viktor had run out of time because he had my full attention now.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” I told him, trying to make it seem he wasn’t in danger. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.”
“What?” His brows arched, eyes wide with shock.
“Listen, Viktor.” I crouched before him, flashing that deadly grin of mine. “I know there are rumors flying out about how ruthless I am and how I scare the shit outta people.” I placed my hand on his shoulder, fingers massaging his muscles. “Do I look scary to you?”
He hesitated, confused about what the actual fuck was going on. Misled by my smile, he shook his head, a quiet sigh of relief leaving his lips.
I chuckled, tapping his shoulder. “You see? You have nothing to worry about.”
The uncertainty in his eyes was crystal clear. And I could see how much he was struggling to believe me.
“Take a deep breath, son.” I stared at him, breathing in and out.
He breathed with me—in through the nose, out through the mouth.
“Good. Very good.”
Calmer and more relaxed, he let a faint, skeptical grin creep onto his lips.
“Now, answer my questions correctly, and I promise Boris here won’t chop your head off.” I glanced up at my lieutenant’s mean face.
He met the man’s cold eyes and swallowed hard, his pulse racing.
“Where’s my money?” I asked.
He shifted his gaze back to me. “Stashed away in an abandoned warehouse at the docks.”
“How much did you steal?”
Viktor paused, stealing a nervous glance at the tall, muscular man standing over him.
“I told you, Boris isn’t going to hurt you.” I massaged his shoulder. “So talk to me. How much did you steal?”
“Half a million dollars.”
“Okay. That’s good. You’re an honest thief.” I nodded, curling my lips into an even broader smile. “Is anyone else involved in this theft?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Andrea, Ilya, and Mikhail.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” I rose to my feet. “That wasn’t hard, was it?”
His silence was tinged with unease.
“Rise,” I said, standing at least a foot away.
He struggled but eventually got on his feet.
I looked at Boris and nodded. He got the message and revealed a switchblade, then marched toward Viktor.
Terrified, Viktor’s eyes widened. “You promised he wasn’t going to harm me.”
“Relax,” I said, steadily tugging at my gloves, one finger at a time. “He’s just trying to cut you loose.”
Boris went around him and sliced through the zip ties that held him bound with a sharp blade. Baffled, he looked at me, rolling his wrists in a massaging motion.
“I am a man of my words, Viktor,” I said, peeling off my black gloves. My bare hands were revealed, exposing my bruised knuckles, marred with faint scars.
Relief washed over his face. “He’s not going to cut my head off?”
“No,” I replied, meeting his gaze as my countenance turned cold and menacing. “I am.”
His eyes widened with terror. And before he could make sense of what was happening, Boris shoved him toward me. My fist connected with his jawbone, the impact knocking out a tooth.
I seized his hand and pulled him close enough to jab my forehead into his face. His nose shattered in an instant. With a single twist, I snapped his elbow like a twig, reveling in his screams.
My fingers clasped around his throat, and I lifted him inches above the ground. Seconds later, I slammed his back against the nearest car. He fell toward the back tire, groaning, straining to breathe.
“You dare steal from me?!” I kicked him in the face multiple times, my boot denting his head into the burnt rubber.
I grabbed the back door handle and yanked it open. Then I forced his neck between the door's lower edge and the car’s sharp baseline.
“I know about the information you sold to the Italians,” I said, glancing down at him as he begged for mercy. “You’re not just a thief. You’re a traitor.”
“Please….”
I slammed the sharp edge into his neck and watched his body twitch. Each slam was more powerful than the last, and each one carried a word. “No. One. Crosses. Me. And. Lives!”
Blood splashed into my face as I struck harder and harder, my expression dark and cold. I didn’t stop until I finally severed his head from his neck.
Panting, I stepped back, shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath. His head fell off the base of the vehicle and rolled to my feet. I stretched out my hand, and Boris handed me a white handkerchief.
“Clean up this mess.” I wiped the blood from my face, then from my hands. “Find the others. Make sure none of them survive.”
He nodded, signaled the others, and then followed me to the car. My boots cuffed against the pavement as I moved with slow, measured steps.
Boris handed me a file mid-stride.
“What’s this?” I accepted it.
“Update on the girl from the River County Advocacy Center.”
“What girl?”
“The one poking her nose in our business,” he answered. “She reopened a case we closed two years ago.”
I flipped through her file and couldn’t help being impressed by her records. Lawyer and social worker at twenty-four, dedicated to chasing down the truth, wherever it was. Curious and dangerous. My kind of people.
“What does she know so far?”
“Not sure yet,” he answered. “But our man on the inside said she’s not someone we should underestimate.”
My eyes fell on a photograph of her.
Oval face. Green eyes. Golden-brown hair that seemed a little out of place. She was pretty for a potential headache, with faint freckles on her nose and a defiant look in her eyes.
The second I saw that picture, I knew she was trouble.
“Word in the streets is that a five-foot girl with golden-brown hair is asking questions she shouldn’t.”
“Interesting,” I mumbled under my breath, halting beside my black SUV.
“What are the orders?” he asked me. “Eliminate her or what?”
“Jesus Christ, Boris, relax.” I yanked open the backseat door. “Violence isn’t always the answer.” I slid into the car and raised my head to meet his intense gaze. “Bring her to me. Alive.”
He locked his jaw, as if unsatisfied with my order.
“I mean it, Boris. Not a hair on her head should be harmed. Understood?”
He nodded.
“Now, let’s go home,” I added softly. “I’m in dire need of a cold bath.”
He closed the door from the outside and walked over to the driver’s side. Boris got in, started the engine, and drove away.
For some reason, I was pleased and intrigued by this girl’s record and what she’d achieved at just twenty-four.
Her name was Kiera Jane, and according to what I read about her, she was a menace not to be underestimated. This girl had solved complex human-trafficking cases that sent some powerful men to jail.
She had a reputation for always seeking justice, no matter what. I respected her for that. The file said her curiosity wasn’t reckless. It was precise. That alone made her far more interesting than she realized.
This girl had potential, and I wasn’t about to eliminate her. No. She’d piqued my curiosity, and now all I wanted was an audience with this mini-terrorist. I wanted to compare the person in real life with the one in this file.
If she were half as fearless and resourceful as the record said she was, I just might study her some more.
Strategy. Not interest.
I closed the file slowly, my fingers brushing against her photograph.
“Let’s see what you’re made of, Kiera Jane.”