37. Igor
37
IGOR
I t’s ironic, really. Out of all the bad decisions I’ve made in my life, riding in a car with Nikolai Volkov again should’ve been at the top of the list. But somehow, this one feels worse. Maybe because Vasiliy’s here too, along with Ivan and Konstantin, crammed into the car like it’s some fucked-up family reunion. Behind us, three more cars tail closely, filled with Nikolai’s men—his personal death squad.
The weight of what we’re about to do presses heavy on my chest. We’re rolling into a warzone, no illusions about it. But that’s fine by me. As long as this ends with Maksim Olenko dead and my family safe, I’ll burn the whole damn warehouse to the ground.
“We’re almost there,” Vasiliy says from the front seat as we roll deeper into Red Hook. The streets are quieter here, abandoned factories and warehouses standing like grave markers under the Brooklyn sky. “I’ll pinpoint the exact building once we’re closer.”
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face for the hundredth time. The bulletproof vest I’m wearing feels like it’s suffocating me, and the familiar weight of the gun at my hip isn’t offering the comfort it usually does. My thumb brushes over the safety switch, itching to flip it off, impatient to put an end to this nightmare.
Vasiliy barks directions to Ivan, who’s driving, and then Nikolai’s radio crackles to life. Static fizzles before one of his men reports, “We’re getting signal disruptions. Tech team recommends full blackout. Over.”
I pull out my phone to check, but it’s useless—zero signal bars. They’re right. Whatever Maksim’s crew is running, it’s scrambling communications. No wonder they’re resorting to the old-school radios.
“Do it,” Nikolai barks into the walkie-talkie. “Over and out.”
In the backseat, I groan, slumping against the leather and staring at the cracked ceiling. My nerves are coiled so tight I feel like I’m going to snap. Ivan catches my frustration in the rearview mirror, but he doesn’t comment, just keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead.
“Park here,” Vasiliy orders as we approach a cluster of warehouses. He points to one of the larger buildings, its windows dark and its metal exterior rusted to hell. “The target is on the far side. We’ll surround it.”
The car stops, and we climb out without a word. The air is cold, biting at my face, but I barely notice. The moment my boots hit the pavement, my focus narrows. The twenty men we brought with us are already getting their weapons ready, quiet and efficient. This isn’t their first raid, and judging by their expressions, it won’t be their last.
I tighten my grip on my gun and glance at Konstantin, who stands close. “Stay with me,” I whisper, not trusting anyone but him to have my back. The Volkovs wouldn’t hesitate to end me and blame Maksim for it.
Konstantin grins, adjusting his Kevlar vest. “Glued to your ass, Shef .”
I roll my eyes, then shift my attention to Vasiliy, who’s laying out the plan.
“We split into four groups,” Vasiliy says, his voice calm and authoritative. “Unit one will cut a direct path through the main entrance. Units two and three will hit the sides. Unit four takes the rear to block escape routes.”
“No,” I cut in, shaking my head.
Vasiliy’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“I’m not sneaking in through the back like a fucking coward,” I snap. My voice drops lower, venomous. “They came after me. I’m the one who’s going to make them regret it. Front entrance. Guns blazing.”
Nikolai lets out a low chuckle, his cold eyes glinting. “Have it your way. Just don’t get yourself killed, Igor. Katya would make sure I never hear the end of it.”
I flash him a grin that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Raising my gun, I nod to Konstantin. “Let’s move.”
Our team peels off while Nikolai, Vasiliy, and Ivan head toward their positions. My goal is simple: destroy anyone who gets in my way. Maksim Olenko is mine. The rest are disposable.
We reach the warehouse door, and Konstantin gives the handle a quick jiggle. Locked.
I don’t waste time. My boot slams into the metal, and the door splinters open with a satisfying crack. I raise my gun and fire at the first movement—a man diving for cover. He drops.
It’s chaos after that. Men scatter like roaches, scrambling for guns and cover. The echo of gunfire bounces off the walls as Maksim’s crew fights back, but they’re outnumbered. Bullets fly, slicing through crates and machinery, as more of Nikolai’s men pour in from every direction.
“Maksim is mine!” I shout over the chaos, my voice cutting through the thunder of gunshots. “Kill the rest!”
Konstantin fires beside me, taking out a man who took cover behind a steel container. The fuckers are armed, but they’re disorganized.
Sloppy.
I weave between the stacks of shipping crates, searching for Maksim while firing at anything that moves. A bullet hits Konstantin’s vest, knocking him to the ground with a grunt. He’s alive—just winded—but the sight sends a fresh wave of fury through me.
I put two bullets in the guy responsible and keep moving. The fight is over almost as quickly as it started. Nikolai’s men are efficient and ruthless. Bodies litter the floor, and the gunfire fades, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
“It’s over, Maksim!” I call, stepping forward. “You’re not leaving alive.”
Movement draws my eye, and I turn just in time to see Vasiliy take out another of Maksim’s men. His gaze meets mine across the blood-slick floor, and we exchange a nod. The room is clear.
“Unit commanders, report,” Vasiliy orders.
One by one, the voices crackle over the radio. “Unit one: clear.”
“Unit two: clear.”
“Unit three: clear.”
I glance around. No more shooters, no more movement. “Unit four: clear,” I confirm.
Vasiliy lowers his weapon and strides toward the office area. Maksim is there, flanked by two of his men. They’ve been stripped of their weapons and look as desperate and grimy as street rats cornered by wolves.
Nikolai steps forward, his tone cold and final. “Let’s give him what he deserves.”
But Maksim grins, his bloodied teeth gleaming. “Not so fast,” he says, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We have her.”
Nikolai and Vasiliy freeze, their fists lowering as realization dawns.
“Have who?” I demand, already knowing the answer.
Maksim’s grin widens. “Katya Volkova.”
The ground tilts beneath me. My vision blurs, my breath catching like I’ve been sucker punched. Katya. The one person I swore to protect. And now she’s in their hands.
My lungs burn, and I can’t think or can’t breathe.
She was caught by these animals.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, panic slicing through the edges of my rage. But the fear only fuels the fire in my chest. Maksim Olenko is a dead man walking.
Nikolai sneers. “You’re bluffing.”
Maksim arches a bloodied brow, his grin widening. “Am I, now? Well, let’s test that, shall we? What’s the saying again? If I’m lying, let God strike me dead.”
“Where is she?” I bark, fighting the urge to put a bullet through his skull right here, right now. My fingers tighten on the grip of my gun.
He laughs, a sound so twisted it makes my blood boil. His face contorts with something dark and primal, like he knows he has the upper hand. “Go ahead. Hurt me, and I can promise she’ll never see the light of day. Think about the collateral damage before you act like a hothead.”
I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body taut with rage. “Where. Is. She?” I demand again, each word sharper than the last.
“Prove it,” Vasiliy demands, cold and unrelenting.
Maksim doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he motions to one of his men, who pulls out a phone and shoves it into my hand. The screen lights up with a single image, and the sight of it hits me.
Katya.
Her hair’s disheveled, her face pale and tight with terror. Her wrists are bound, and the fear in her eyes is raw and unfiltered. I’ve seen her strong, I’ve seen her angry, I’ve even seen her broken—but this? This is something else entirely. This is pure, unbridled fear, and it shakes me to my fucking core.
My vision tunnels, the edges of the room blurring. My knuckles whiten as I clutch the phone, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Maksim looks smug. “You better let me go.”
But something inside me snaps.
In one motion, I shove him back against the wall, my fist colliding with his face with a sickening crunch. Blood sprays from his nose, and a scream tears from his throat as he staggers.
But I’m not done.
I strike again, my fist slamming into his jaw, then again, harder, until my knuckles are slick with his blood and his face is barely recognizable. His cries echo around the room, but they only fuel the inferno raging inside me.
No one moves to stop me.
Not until I hear Nikolai shout. “Stop!” He lunges forward to grab my arm. “We need him alive!”
Vasiliy’s snarl cuts through next, sharp and commanding. “He’s the only one who knows where Katya is! Think, Igor!”
But I’m past thinking.
I shake them off like they’re nothing, rage blinding me as I grab Maksim by the collar. “You think you can threaten her? Use her against me?” I growl, my voice venomous and unhinged. “You fucking bastard.”
My boot slams into his gut, and he crumples with a pained groan. I don’t stop. My knife is in my hand before I even realize it, and the sharp edge presses against his skin.
“Don’t!” Nikolai yells, but it’s too late.
The blade slides across Maksim’s belly, opening him up like a gutted fish. Blood pours from the wound, pooling at his feet as his body twitches. I stab him again, again, and again, the blade tearing through flesh and muscle like paper.
Maksim gasps, his eyes rolling back, and I press the knife to his throat, ready to finish him off.
“No!” Nikolai roars, wrenching me back with all his strength, but the damage is already done. Maksim’s lifeless body is splayed on the ground, his blood soaking the floor.
Breathing heavily, I pocket the knife and turn to face the others. They’re staring at me—Konstantin, Nikolai, Vasiliy—all wide-eyed and horrified.
“Any more ideas?” I sneer, stepping over Maksim’s corpse.
“You fucking moron,” Nikolai snarls, shoving me hard. “We needed him alive! He was our only lead!”
I push him back, rage still coursing through my veins. “Like you’ve done so much better with his cousin and Yakov!” I snap. “Don’t pretend you’re a saint.”
“He’s dead?” Ivan’s voice cuts through the tension, his brows raised in mock disbelief as he surveys the scene.
“Oh yes,” Konstantin mutters tightly. “Igor made sure of it.”
“Idiot,” Nikolai hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The threats might stop, but we still don’t know where Katya is or why they did this.” He glares at me, his icy eyes burning with frustration. “You killed our only chance of finding her, and now we’re back to square one.”
“I might have something,” Vasiliy interjects, holding up Maksim’s phone. His expression is grim, but there’s a flicker of hope in his tone. “The picture of Katya? It was sent from Galina’s phone.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My body freezes, my blood turning cold.
I glance at the screen, fury bubbling under the surface. Galina was involved in this? My stomach churns at the thought, but there’s no time to unravel it now.
“We need confirmation,” I mutter, pulling out my own phone, but the cursed signal blackout mocks me. There’s no way to call Aleks, no way to verify any of this.
“Look around,” I order Konstantin. “See if you can find the shipment.”
Konstantin hesitates, glancing between me, Nikolai, and the bloodied corpse at my feet. Then, with a reluctant nod, he disappears into the shadows, searching.
I turn to Ivan, my jaw tightening. “Take me to my brother. Now.”
Ivan doesn’t argue, stepping outside toward the waiting car. Vasiliy and Nikolai follow close behind, their frustration palpable but overridden by the urgency of the situation.
The blood on my knuckles is still warm, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.