Chapter 6 —Demyon
My team was able to decipher the code without stress, and we tracked the location to a warehouse at the river docks. We lurked in the dark corners like predators, waiting, watching.
The warehouse was dimly lit by fluorescent bulbs and the moon’s soft light streaming through the broken glass windows. The air was thick with the smell of diesel fuel and seaweed, mingling with traces of salt and iron.
My men had already surrounded the place, and there was movement that would go unnoticed. Ilya, my cousin Adrik, and a handful of my best foot soldiers were lurking in the shadows with me, observing in silence.
Four men in dark suits walked through the front door, their shoes scuffing the pavement. One held a briefcase in his hand, while the others flanked him like a shield. They were his bodyguards—tall, huge, and armed.
They stopped at the center of the warehouse, their watchful eyes scanning the surroundings. The one with the briefcase, a short, portly man with brown hair and a brown beard, glanced at his watch. He mumbled something under his breath, his face a mask of impatience.
I recognized him in an instant: Alexei Udinov. He was the leader of a small Russian Mafia group that operated independently of the Bratva. The bastard had tried to cross me one too many times in the past, but I never gave him the attention he craved.
Alexei was an ambitious man who was willing to do the unthinkable just to feel relevant in the criminal underworld. Clearly, the asshole didn’t know where to draw the line, as he decided to make an enemy of the Bratva.
He’d always been poking his nose in other people’s businesses, trying to find ways to bring them down. He’d succeeded a few times after dismantling a couple of gangs from the inside. He turned them against each other, then sat back and watched them destroy themselves.
It was a brilliant move, and I was impressed when I heard what he did. But I guessed that victory had gone to his head, because now he thought he was big enough to take me on. What a delusional son of a bitch!
“We can take them out, Boss,” Ilya suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” I replied with the same tone. “Not yet. He’s waiting for someone.”
I wanted to know who was feeding him information because he definitely wasn’t working alone. I knew someone within the Bratva had been selling sensitive information to our enemies. Tonight, I was going to catch them red-handed.
“Gentlemen,” a voice rang out from across the space, echoing off the walls. “You made it.”
“You’re late,” Alexei said, turning to face the newcomer.
“Apologies,” he answered, approaching the four men. “I had to make sure I wasn’t followed.” He halted before then and adjusted his flashy red tie.
“Anatoli, you son of a bitch,” Ilya mumbled under his breath as the newcomer came into view.
Anatoli was one of my men: the mole within the organization, the fucking traitor.
“Is he one of us?” Adrik asked me, his voice low and venomous.
I hesitated for a second. “Not anymore.”
“Do you have my money?” Anatoli asked Alexei.
“Right here.” He tapped on the briefcase.
Anatoli reached out to take it, but Alexei withdrew his hand.
“Ah-ah, not so fast, pretty boy.” He chuckled. “You know how this works.”
“What? You don’t trust me?”
“A man who turns on his own brothers for money shouldn’t be trusted.”
“Spare me the philosophy,” Anatoli said, dipping his hand into his pocket. “You’re no better than I am.” He revealed a flash drive. “I went through a lot of trouble for this.”
“And you will be greatly compensated,” Alexei replied, giving his briefcase a slight wave.
A smug smirk tugged at the corners of Anatoli’s mouth. “Everything you need to know about the Bratva is on here.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Now, hand over the case.”
Alexei laughed lightly. “There’s only one of you, and there are four of us, Anatoli. Don’t be stupid.”
A glimpse of fear flashed across his features, and he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “Are you threatening me?”
His expression darkened. “Hand over the file.”
Anatoli’s hand trembled slightly, and just as he was about to do as he was told, I intervened.
They first heard my voice as I waltzed out of the shadows with slow, measured steps. “You see, the problem with thieves is that they don’t trust each other.”
Rattled, all five of them turned in my direction, Alexei’s men already pointing the weapons at me. However, before anyone could make any silly moves, my men stormed out of the darkness, guns loaded, aimed, and ready to fire.
I lit a cigarette as I approached them, my footsteps cutting through the silence. My lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk, and I enjoyed their fear like a cat savoring a trapped mouse.
“Boss,” Anatoli called my attention, his voice shaking. “I know how this looks. But…but…it’s not—it’s not what you think.”
I didn’t yell, didn’t frown, didn’t lose my temper or feel betrayed. No. I was calm. No haste, no threats—just my intimidating presence. The kind that made men forget how to breathe.
“Mr. Tarasov,” Alexei whispered, hands trembling with fear. “I…we can…. He’s the one who sold you out, I swear!” He pointed at Anatoli, his voice cracking, accentuating the terror in his eyes.
Pathetic.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Alexei,” I said, halting in front of him. “But nobody mentioned that you’re such a pussy who breaks under slight pressure.”
He bit the inside of his mouth.
“Round them up,” I ordered.
My men sprang into action. They first disarmed Alexei’s bodyguards and then forced all five to kneel before me. Ilya and a few others bound their hands behind their backs and stepped away.
I unsheathed my knife and grabbed a handful of Anatoli’s hair, forcing him to look into my eyes.
“Please, Boss. Show mercy,” he begged like a pathetic fool.
“Mercy?” I growled, staring right into his eyes. “What’s the one rule about betrayal?”
His chest heaved rapidly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I didn’t betray you, Boss. I knew he’d never win against you—his plan was doomed to fail from the start. He doesn’t stand a chance.” The words rushed out in a shaky voice.
“What’s the one rule about betrayal?” I asked, calm and composed.
He swallowed hard. “It’s unforgivable.”
“Good.” I held his gaze and slit his throat.
His body convulsed beneath my grip, unable to use his hands as he choked on his own blood. I watched the life drain from his wide eyes, and when the shaking stopped, I let go of his hair. His lifeless body thudded to the ground, his blood pooling at my feet.
“Mr. Tarasov, there’s no need for violence…” Alexei began, his voice trembling with fear.
I ran my blade through his bodyguards’ chests, one after the other, until I reached him. He pleaded with me in Russian, begging for his life.
“You wanted my attention, didn’t you?” I asked him. “Well, now you have it.”
He gasped loudly with bulging eyes as I ran my blade through his heart. I pulled the knife from his chest, and his now limp body fell into the pool of blood sprawled across the floor.
I straightened and stretched out my hand, and a white handkerchief was handed to me. With it, I wiped the blood from my blade and my fingers.
Just then, a noise came from outside the building, as if someone had kicked a rock. My head snapped toward the window, and there I spotted a hooded figure running into the night.
“Don’t let him get away,” I ordered calmly, unfazed by the witness.
Ilya spoke into his walkie-talkie, instructing the men outside to grab the runner.
It wasn’t even a minute after my order that two of my men barged in through the front door, dragging the witness.
“Let go of me,” he protested. “I didn’t see anything, I promise.”
Strangely, the voice didn’t sound like a man’s—it sounded more like a woman’s, and it was rather familiar.
The witness was pushed to the floor, and they dropped to their knees in front of me. Ilya yanked their hoodie off, revealing a face that shocked me to the bone.
It was her—the same girl from the library.
My eyes squinted at this realization, yet I maintained a stoic expression.
“What’re we gonna do with her?” Alexei asked me. “She saw everything.”
I didn’t respond, just kept staring at her, furious that she couldn’t stay out of trouble. I could’ve ended her life in her dorm last night and made it look like an accident. I didn’t. But she seemed to have a death wish or something.
“You leave it to me, Boss,” Ilya chipped in. “I’ll handle it. One bullet to the head will do the job, and I’ll dispose of the body in the river.”
“What?” She lifted her head and met my gaze. “You don’t have to do that. I didn’t see anything. I swear.” She shifted her eyes across our faces and added almost immediately, “Okay, maybe I did see something, but I promise, I’m not gonna say anything.” She zipped her lips.
Silence.
My cousin, Adrik, turned to me, his voice cutting through the stillness. “You’re not seriously considering letting her go, are you?” He stepped closer. “No loose ends. That’s the rule.”
“I don’t kill women and children,” I said in Russian, reminding him of my own rule.
“I do,” Ilya said, ever ready to clean up this mess. “Just say the word, and it’s done.” He cocked his gun and aimed it at her forehead.
“Oh, God, no,” she whimpered, lowering her head and raising her hands. “If you have any shred of humanity left in you, please, don’t kill me.”
The sound of her voice, the innocence in her plea, melted my stone-cold heart. I couldn’t bring myself to give the order, especially because I knew she didn’t deserve to die. She wasn’t a threat. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was her curiosity that landed her in this situation, and now I was unsure what to do. I should’ve known from the moment I realized she’d solved part of the puzzle that she was trouble. I should’ve torn out the pages of that notebook, or better yet, just taken it with me.
At least that way, she wouldn’t have ended up in this mess. What was it about this young girl that had me looking for an excuse to spare her life anyway?
“What do you say, Boss?” Ilya asked, his gun still aimed at her head.
I thought for a moment, then an idea hit me: She’d seen enough death tonight to traumatize her for life. So instead of executing her, I chose to claim her for myself. Not because it was rational or the right thing to do, but because at that moment, it was what I wanted.
“Put your gun down, Ilya,” I said quietly. “She’s coming home with us.”
She raised her head, her misty eyes locking with mine—confused by my verdict.
I ignored the stares from my men and the confusion etched on their faces. It was my decision, and I wasn’t going back on my word. I hadn’t yet figured out what to do with her. For now, she’d live under my roof and be under twenty-four-hour surveillance.
She never should’ve come here.