Chapter 46 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
The warehouse on the south side reeks of rust and old blood, a fitting place for what needs to happen tonight.
I stand in the center of the concrete floor, my hands clasped behind my back, watching as my men drag in the three traitors who thought they could carve up my territory while I played nursemaid to my pregnant wife.
Men I’ve trusted for years, men who’ve eaten at my table and sworn loyalty with their blood.
Now they kneel before me with hoods over their heads, their breathing rapid and panicked through the fabric.
“Remove them,” I order, my voice echoing off the metal walls.
Tony pulls off the first hood, revealing a bruised face.
The man who once ran my eastern operations now looks at me with defiant eyes, his jaw set despite the fear I can smell rolling off him in waves.
“Mikhail,” he starts, but I raise my hand.
“You don’t get to speak yet.” I circle them slowly, letting the silence stretch. “Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks while you’ve been meeting with the Castellanos? While you’ve been dividing up my empire like it’s already yours?”
He spits blood onto the concrete. “You’ve been playing house with your pregnant whore while your organization falls apart.”
The words hang in the air for exactly two seconds before my fist connects with his jaw.
The crack of bone echoes through the warehouse, and the traitor crumples sideways, held upright only by the zip ties binding his wrists behind his back.
“That’s my wife you’re talking about.” I shake out my hand, feeling the satisfying sting across my knuckles. “The mother of my child. Show some respect.”
Tony moves to stand beside me, his eyes cold as he surveys the traitors. Sophia’s brother has proven himself invaluable these past months, understanding the delicate balance between loyalty and ambition that keeps an organization intact.
He’s everything Marco should have been.
“We have recordings,” Tony says, pulling out his phone. “Every meeting. Every conversation. Every promise you made to divide the Artyomov territory once Mikhail was out of the picture.”
I watch their faces pale as Tony plays the audio. Their voices fill the warehouse, discussing which neighborhoods they’d take, which businesses they’d absorb. The casual way they talk about eliminating me makes my blood run cold.
“You were going to kill me,” I say quietly. “Not just take my territory. Actually kill me.”
“You’re weak,” one of them spits. “The great Mikhail Artyomov, brought to his knees by a woman half his age. You spend all your time at home while your enemies circle. The families are laughing at you.”
“Let them laugh.” I crouch down to his eye level. “I’d rather be weak and have my family than dead like you’re about to be.”
I stand and nod to Tony. He moves with practiced efficiency, pulling out the Glock I gave him when I made him my enforcer. The weight of leadership sits well on his shoulders, better than it ever did on Marco’s.
“Wait,” the first guy cries out, his voice cracking. “Please, Mikhail. We can work this out. We were just talking. We never actually did anything.”
“You met with other families and fed them my information. You planned my death. You divided my territory.” I count off each betrayal on my fingers. “The only reason you didn’t act is because you’re cowards who wanted someone else to pull the trigger.”
I pull out my own weapon, the familiar weight of the Glock grounding me.
This is who I am.
This is what I do.
No matter how much I want to be the man Sophia fell in love with, the man who could walk away from violence and build something clean, this is the reality of my world.
“I’m going to give you a choice,” I tell them. “Quick or slow. Mercy or justice. What you did to me deserves slow, but I’m tired and I want to go home to my wife.”
“Fuck you,” the first guy snarls. “You think killing us will stop what’s coming? There are others. Men who are tired of your weakness, tired of watching you play legitimate businessman while the real opportunities pass us by.”
The admission confirms what I’ve suspected.
This betrayal runs deeper than three disgruntled lieutenants.
There’s a cancer in my organization, and I need to cut it out before it spreads.
“Names,” I demand. “Give me names and I’ll make it quick.”
He laughs, the sound bitter and broken. “So you can kill them too? No. Let them come for you. Let them take everything while you’re changing diapers and playing house.”
I pull the trigger. The shot echoes through the warehouse, and the asshole’s body slumps forward, a neat hole in his forehead. Quick. Merciful. More than he deserved.
The other two start screaming, their bravado evaporating in the face of their friend’s death. I turn to them, my expression cold.
“Last chance. Names.”
It’s funny how quickly they change their minds. Names fly from their mouths in rapid succession. “They’re planning to move against you next week when you’re at the hospital for Sophia’s appointment.”
The names hit me like bullets. One runs my western operations. Another handles my legitimate construction business. And the last one manages my security. If they’re all compromised, then my entire organization is rotting from within.
“How many others?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe a dozen. Maybe more.” The blonde’s voice breaks. “Please, Mikhail. I have a family. A wife and two daughters.”
“So do I.” I raise my weapon. “That’s why I can’t let traitors live.”
Two more shots. Two more bodies. The warehouse falls silent except for the ringing in my ears and the steady drip of blood onto concrete.
Tony holsters his weapon and pulls out his phone. “I’ll have the cleanup crew here in twenty minutes. What do you want to do about the others?”
“Round them up. Tonight. I want them all before sunrise.” I stare at the bodies, feeling nothing.
No satisfaction. No remorse. Just the cold calculation that’s kept me alive for twenty years.
“And double the security at the compound. If they were planning to hit me at the hospital, they might try for Sophia at home.”
“Already done.” Tony’s efficiency reminds me why I chose him. “I’ve got eight men on the perimeter and four inside. Elena’s been briefed. Sophia won’t leave the bedroom without an escort.”
I nod, suddenly exhausted.
The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving behind the familiar weight of leadership and the knowledge of what I’ve just done.
Three men are dead by my hand.
More will die before the night is over.
And somewhere in my fortress of a home, my pregnant wife sleeps, trusting me to keep her safe.
“Let’s go,” I tell Tony. “I need to get home.”
The drive back to the compound takes thirty minutes, but it feels like hours.
My hands are steady on the wheel despite the blood drying under my fingernails.
I’ve cleaned most of it off, but there’s still a dark stain on my shirt cuff that I can’t quite scrub away.
The guards at the gate nod as I pass through. The house is quiet when I enter, most of the staff already retired for the evening. I head straight for our bedroom, needing to see Sophia, to remind myself why I do this.
She’s awake, sitting up in bed with her laptop balanced on her knees.
The soft lamplight catches in her black hair, and her blue eyes find mine immediately.
For a moment, she just looks at me, and I see the exact second she notices the blood.
“Mikhail.” My name is a question and an accusation all at once.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, suddenly unable to move closer. “It’s not mine.”
“I know.” She sets the laptop aside carefully, her hand moving to rest on the swell of her stomach.
“They were planning to kill me and divide my territory. I found out tonight.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes searching my face. “And now they’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“By your hand.”
“Yes.”
She closes her eyes, and I see her throat work as she swallows. When she opens them again, there are tears tracking down her cheeks.
“I’m protecting our family.” I push off from the door, moving closer. “Everything I do is to keep you and our baby safe.”
She says nothing, just watches me closely with those blue eyes.
“I don’t know how to protect our family without becoming a monster,” I whisper. “And I’m terrified that one day, you’ll look at me and see nothing but the blood on my hands.”