Chapter 27 A GAME OF CHESS
The crack of his jawbone shattering vibrates inside the small cell of a nondescript warehouse at the edge of Saints Hollow. I sit in a dark corner, ankle to my knee, watching Niko deliver another sharp right hook to the handler’s face.
I tsk. That one was weak. Bad angle. I could’ve done better.
“I swear I know nothing!” the man sputters, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Niko—the number two enforcer under the deranged Bakim of the Albanian mob—arches a dark brow at me.
I press my lips together. “I don’t buy it. Do you?”
Niko cracks a small smile and drags the man up by his collar. “Tell us who gave you the USB.”
The Berishas think the encrypted messages, which stopped their “shipments,” came from a USB drive.
A drive I planted, courtesy of Aleksei.
“An inside job.” He grins. “Nothing freaks these people out more than a mole.”
“I swear it’s not me. You’ve got the wrong guy!”
“Only you knew about the shipments from Estonia and Croatia. It’s strange, isn’t it? The moment you disappeared was when all the shit went down?”
He lands another hard punch into the man’s stomach.
A wet plop. A rancid smell.
Shit, the bastard vomited.
I twirl my gloved finger in the air and tell Niko, “I don’t know about you, but this is going nowhere, and I have an appointment to get to. Speed it up.”
Niko grunts and excuses himself to go outside, no doubt to bring in some power tools.
As the door slams shut, the man—Akim, I think; these assholes are all the same—stares at me, blood pooling at the corner of his lips.
“M-Mr. Kent, believe me! I didn’t send the virus. I had an emergency at home. When I came back, they told me the servers were hacked. Please! Tell them it wasn’t me.”
I sigh. I almost feel sorry for the bastard since he’s our fall guy.
If I had a conscience, that is.
But since I don’t, I get up from my chair and amble toward him. Something must’ve given me away because the man shrinks.
“Mr. Kent…” His voice cracks.
I catch his chin, tilt his face up, and pat his cheek. “Do you know what I hate more than anything?”
My words are a quiet whisper. The man stills, his sour breath puffing against my face.
I lean closer. “I hate crimes against women. People like you disgust me to the core. If I had my way, I’d peel every inch of skin from your body just so I could hear you scream. And that’d only be an ounce of the torture you put those women through.”
Akim’s breath quickens. “But you work for the Berishas! You’re part of The Association!”
I smile and step back, wiping my gloves with a napkin.
The door opens, and Niko walks back into the room, holding a toolbox.
“I got it from here,” I tell him.
He hesitates. “You sure?”
Oh yes, I’m fucking sure.
Niko’s eyes narrow with something like understanding. He hands me the toolbox and leaves.
“So many choices,” I tsk under my breath as I flip through the tools, “what shall I use?”
Akim whimpers, pleas blubbering from his mouth.
Useless, spineless idiot.
I hold up a sharp tactical knife and walk back to him. It gleams under the fluorescent light.
I check my watch. “Too bad. I don’t have time to play with you today.”
“No please! Talk to Dalmat Hoxha. He’d know more. I swear it wasn’t—”
Hoxha. The Albanian mob secretary. Of course. Sick satisfaction warms my chest as I find my next target.
“You.” I press my boot on his chest and bear down, watching with satisfaction as he gasps for breath, his face turning red. “I know it wasn’t you.”
Rule one: look them in the eye.
I stare straight at him. The rage I’ve tethered away comes roaring back to the surface.
Rules two and three: Tell them their sins and no innocents.
I lower my voice, a raw whisper. “It might not have been you, but your sins are just the same. Those women you hurt? Now, who will avenge them?”
My fingers curl around his neck, feeling the tendons yield beneath my grip. The bones crack and give. He struggles against his binds, eyes widening, bloodshot and wild.
“S-Stop…h-help—”
I lean in. “I sent the virus.”
His eyes widen and I plunge the knife, the hilt slamming into his chest. Wet gurgles reach my ears. Then fruitless struggles.
When he stops moving, the room stills, thick and silent. I step back and slowly peel off my gloves—another pair ruined—and toss them into the metal bin.
Flicking open my lighter, I hold it to my handkerchief. Flames catch. I drop it into the bin, watching the fire devour the evidence.
A hollow satisfaction fills my gut as I step outside. Niko watches me from the hallway.
“Well,” I say, “tell the Berishas it’s done. He wanted to get a cut of the shipment for himself. Go check his bank account.”
They’ll see the three extra zeros I transferred over. Untraceable, of course.
Niko’s assessing gaze pauses on my face.
“Questions?” I ask.
He shakes his head, eyes narrowed in anger.
“Teenagers,” he mutters. “Thirteen-year-olds. That was the last batch. The bastard got what’s coming.”
Anger climbs inside me. I think of Sofia—eyes haunted and lifeless, frame frail when I found her all those years ago. How close I was to losing her.
Niko grunts his approval and stalks off.
I can’t help but wonder why someone who clearly hates this life would stay with the Albanian mob.
Just as I slide into the backseat of my car, my phone pings.
Knight Ren
It worked. She’s on the run. Want me to go after her?
Ren attached a few photos—Lana getting into a black car.
A flare rises behind my ribs when I take in her face—the desperation, the fear when she glanced back at the house, like she thought we were going to hurt her. Like she truly believed she was running for her life.
I push down the emotions rising inside me. I won’t analyze why it hurts to breathe.
You hate her, Elias. Remember what she did. Remember why Kian ceased to exist.
But she never forgot me. I may have been drunk on my birthday, but I remember every second. There was sorrow in her eyes when she lit the candle.
Then another image flashes behind my eyelids—the heartache on her face days later in front of Hollow Gardens.
For me.
My conscience, something I thought was long dead, flickers to life. Conscience kills in my reality.
I harden myself and type a response.
Rook Elias
No, let her go. This way, we’ll see how much the feds have on us.
Knight Ren
Noted. Did I mention you’re a scary asshole?
I chuckle, motioning for John to drive.
Rook Elias
Chess is only scary if you’re the piece being sacrificed.