10. Maksim
Maksim
“I need another set of hands!” Cinder’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Someone who won’t faint at the sight of blood!”
I look around the med room. The guards are standing like statues.
I find Lila standing in the hallway outside the living room. Her face is pale, and her eyes are wide. She’s staring at the blood on the couch like she’s seeing a ghost.
“Lila, Cinder needs you.”
She looks at me. Fear. She’s afraid of me. I stride over to her, and she takes a step back, like I’m going to hurt her.
“Come on.” I keep my voice as gentle as I can manage right now. “Cinder needs help.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how to help her.”
“The last thing Mara needs is a bunch of men touching her,” I say. “The doctor will be here soon, but right now, it’s just you and Cinder. Please.”
I see her debating, and then she nods. “Fine.”
Cinder looks up when we enter.
“Good. Lila, wash your hands. I need you to hold pressure here.” Cinder points to Mara’s side, where blood is seeping through the towels.
Lila’s hands shake as she scrubs them in the sink. I watch her dry them and move to where Cinder indicates. She presses on the wound. Mara doesn’t make a sound.
“Don’t let up,” Cinder orders. “She needs to bleed less if the doctor will have any chance to save her.”
I watch from the doorway. I should be out finding who did this, but I can’t move. Cinder looks at me, and I see what she’s trying to say.
“Out,” I order. “Everyone out.”
The men look too happy to get out. We all know what’s happening, and none of us want to watch.
“Come on, come on,” Cinder mutters, working faster.
Lila looks up, and our eyes meet across the room. The fear is still there, but now, there’s something else. Confusion. Questions.
“Shit,” Cinder murmurs. “Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?” Lila asks. “Sorry. That’s stupid.”
Cinder’s attention is on the woman who’s just taken her last breath. “No, no, no.”
She begins chest compressions as Lila stares at Mara in horror.
The doctor bursts into the room. He takes one look at the scene and curses.
“What the hell?” he asks.
Cinder moves out of the way. Lila keeps holding the towel against her side. The doctor gently moves her hand, looks at the knife wound, and then uses his stethoscope to check for a heartbeat.
“She’s gone,” he says.
The room falls silent except for Lila’s ragged breathing. I look at her. She’s staring at Mara’s still form and her own blood-covered hands. She’s pale, and her hands tremble as her eyes meet mine.
“What did you do, Maksim?” I hear the anger in her voice.
“Me?”
“Why would you do that?” She takes a step toward me. “Why would you beat her like that and then bring her here to die?”
She thinks I’m the one who hurt Mara. It’s insulting. After all I’ve done for her.
“Lila,” Cinder says softly.
“I didn’t fucking do this.” My voice is hard and cold. The rage I’ve held back floods through me. “I found her like this. I pulled her out of an alley where they left her to die. I brought her here to save her, not to watch her die.”
She stares at me like I’m a monster.
I should say something. I don't. I just stand there with Mara's blood on my hands while she looks at me like every other dangerous man she's feared.
The blood on my hands looks the same as it did twenty years ago. I couldn't stop it then either.
“You don’t know me.” I step closer. “I would never hurt a woman, and certainly not one I’ve taken care of for years. They are under my protection, and someone just violated that in the worst possible way.”
“I will find who did this.” My voice drops to something deadly. “And they’re going to wish they’d never been born.”
I turn and walk out before I say something I’ll regret. Damien is waiting in the hallway.
“It’s the Albanians,” he says without preamble. “They grabbed her outside the Brickell house.”
I don’t wait for Damien to catch up. I move through the compound toward the garage, my hands still covered in Mara’s blood. White-hot rage burns through me, consuming everything else.
“Maksim!” Damien’s footsteps pound behind me. “Wait!”
I throw open the garage door and head for the SUV. My Porsche is in the shop. This will have to do.
Damien catches my arm. “Where are you going?”
“To end this.”
“The fuck you are.” He steps in front of me. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Get out of my way, Damien.”
“No.” His jaw sets. “Not until you calm down and think this through.”
“Think? They killed one of my women. They beat her, stabbed her, and left her in an alley like trash. What’s there to think about?”
“Strategy. Backup. Not walking into an ambush because you’re too angry to see straight.”
Mara’s face flashes through my mind. The way she looked at me, trusting me to save her. And I couldn’t.
I take a breath and force myself to think like the Sokolov I am instead of the man who just watched someone die.
“Call everyone,” I say finally. “I want every man we have ready to move in fifteen minutes.”
Damien pulls out his phone. “Where are we hitting?”
“The distribution house on Fifth. If they want to play dirty, I’ll show them what dirty looks like. Tell Sampson to get the box.”
He pauses. “Seriously?”
I stare back at him.
“Shit. This is going to be a long fucking day.”
The box is actually several crates filled with weapons from some of the bratva’s shipments. I’ve never needed the explosives and guns, but part of me knew that there might be a day I wanted them.
The compound transforms into organized chaos within minutes. Men appear from everywhere, checking weapons and loading vehicles. My security detail morphs into an army.
I wash Mara’s blood from my hands in the garage sink, watching the pink water swirl down the drain. It should be their blood. It will be.
“Ready.” Damien appears at my side. “We’ve got three vehicles and twelve men. Sampson’s driving lead.”
“Good.” I dry my hands and check my Glock. Full magazine. I grab a second one from the weapons box and tuck it into my waistband.
We pile into the vehicles. I take the passenger seat in the lead SUV. Sampson is behind the wheel. The man has seen real combat. This is just another day for him.
The distribution house is in a neighborhood that has seen better days. Warehouses and industrial buildings, most of them abandoned. Houses that haven’t been taken care of in decades. Perfect place for the Albanians to move product without drawing attention.
“Park one block out,” I tell Sampson. “We go in on foot.”
The vehicles stop. My men file out with their weapons ready. Twelve of us against however many they have inside. I’m too angry to care about the odds. I’ve got two grenades I plan to use.
Damien moves up beside me. “Two guards at the front. Probably more inside.”
“I’ll take the front. You take the back with half the men. Nobody leaves.”
He nods and disappears with six of our guys. I wait, counting down from sixty in my head. When I hit zero, I move.
The two guards at the front see us coming. One reaches for his weapon, and I shoot him before he clears the holster. The second one gets his gun up, but Sampson is faster. Two shots. Both guards down.
We’re through the door before the bodies hit the ground.
The inside is what I expected. Drugs everywhere. Tables covered in white powder, scales, and plastic bags. Four men scrambling for weapons. They’re too slow.
My men fan out with their weapons raised. “Nobody move!”
One of them doesn’t listen, moving for a shotgun that’s leaning against the wall. I put two rounds in his chest. He drops.
The others freeze.
“On your knees,” I order.
Damien appears through the back door, with three Albanians being pushed ahead of him at gunpoint. “All clear.”
I look around at the operation. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in product, maybe more. The Albanians will feel this.
One of the men on his knees speaks up. “You’re dead. Arlind will kill you for this.”
I walk over to him, crouching so we’re eye level. “Tell Arlind he started this. He killed one of my women. This is me being polite.”
I stand and nod to Sampson. "Make sure they can still talk."
Sampson smiles. It’s not a nice smile.
I watch Sampson drag one of the men to his feet. The Albanian is shaking, his eyes darting between us like a cornered animal.
“Run,” I tell him.
He stares at me, confused.
“Run,” I say again. “Tell Arlind what happened here. Tell him this is just the beginning.”
The man doesn’t need to be told a third time. He bolts for the door, stumbling over the bodies of his friends. Sampson fires a shot that kicks up dirt near his feet, just to give him extra motivation.
My men are moving toward the exits. I can see them backing out, weapons still trained on the remaining Albanians kneeling on the floor.
I reach into my jacket and pull out the two grenades.
“Time to go,” Damien says from behind me. “Maksim. Now.”
I pull the first pin. The metallic sound is satisfying. I toss it underhand toward the tables stacked with product. It bounces twice, then rolls under a chair.
The Albanians on the floor start screaming and scramble to their feet.
I pull the second pin and toss that grenade toward the back of the house, where more crates are stacked.
Then, I turn and walk.
Damien is waving frantically outside. “Move your ass!”
I’m ten feet from the door when the first grenade goes off. The explosion is massive, and the shockwave hits me in the back like a physical punch. I feel something hot slice across my left shoulder blade, then my calf.
I keep walking.
The second grenade detonates before I’m clear. Windows blow out. My ears are ringing, but I’m still standing.
Sampson grabs my arm and pulls me toward the vehicles. “Get in!”
I slide into the SUV, and Sampson peels out. The house is fully engulfed behind us. Flames shoot fifty feet into the air. Black smoke billows.
“Holy shit,” someone says from the back seat.
I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes. My shoulder burns. I reach back, and my hand comes away red.
“You’re hit,” Damien says.
“I’m fine.”
I’m still breathing and walking. It’s more than I deserve. The women who work for me do so because I promise protection. I tell them they’re safe. I failed them. Mara is dead because I couldn’t control myself. Because I wanted something that didn’t belong to me.
“It’s time,” Damien says from the back seat.
“No.”
“You just started a war.”
“I started the war last week.”
“He’s going to want to know,” Damien warns.
The adrenaline is wearing off. The pain in my shoulder sharpens from a dull ache to something more insistent. My calf is throbbing. I look down and see blood seeping through my pants.
Lila’s face flashes through my mind. The way she looked at me with fear and accusation. Like I’m the monster.
Maybe I am.
I just killed at least six men. This is who I am. This is what I do.
“Next house,” I say.
“Fuck, Maksim, do you plan on burning down the city?”
“No, just his house.”
I can feel my men’s eyes on me, but no one speaks. They know better. This is a side of me I rarely let the world see. But it’s part of who I am, and it always will be.
My phone rings as we pull away from the second hit. Of course, it’s Nikolai. News travels fast. Apparently, across the country. I stare at the screen for a moment before answering.
“Brother.” I keep my voice neutral.
“What the fuck are you doing?” No preamble. “I just got a call that you’re burning down Albanian operations across the city.”
“Only two.”
“Maksim.” His voice drops to a deadly calm that means he’s really pissed. “You hit two of their distribution houses in less than an hour. You killed at least eight of their men. You’re starting a war.”
“I’m finishing one they started.”
“Over a woman.” He knows. I glance at Damien, who shrugs. Damien is loyal to the bratva first and me second. “You’re doing this over some girl who doesn’t even like you.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? One of your women is dead because Arlind is retaliating.” He pauses. “This is reckless, even for you.”
“They killed Mara.”
“And how many more will die before you’re done? Have you talked to Sergei?”
“No. He’s busy with the twins.”
Nikolai laughs joylessly. “You think Sergei doesn’t know? Come on, Maksim. We both know he has eyes everywhere. He probably knew about your crusade before I did.”
I lean my head back against the seat again. My shoulder is screaming. “I’m asking you to keep this between us for now.”
“Between us.” He scoffs. “You’re asking me to lie to our pakhan about a war you’re dragging us all into.”
“I’m asking you to give me time to handle this.”
“Handle it how? By burning down every Albanian operation until Arlind comes for your head?”
“I’ll handle Miami. Always have.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He hangs up.
I sigh and lean back.
“Well?” Damien asks.
“Did you call him?”
He doesn’t need to answer. I know he did it because he thinks I’m making a mistake.
I’m not. My business. My war.