19. Emil
EMIL
Two days later, I’m finishing deep inside of Fia, floating through the clouds, when Luka rains on my parade with a text message.
LUKA: Get yourself down to the docks.
This is what happens when you relinquish control, even for a few seconds.
Karma calls your name, reminding you of its power.
I step on the gas, cruising through the forest until I’m arriving at the docks, swerving through the gates.
“Bylat,” I cuss, popping open the car door and seeing the mess myself. Luka wasn’t reacting when he said my dockyard looked like a bloodbath.
Dawn brings gray clouds, a dull weather forecast and new surprises. Thirty-two men lie dead across my dockyard, all of them stark naked, stripped of life and dignity all in one night.
I rub my face, walking through the graveyard as I take in the very bleak surroundings. Blood has been smeared across the floor, up the sides of nearby shipping containers, like the Kuzmins brought paintbrushes with them and made it their mission to cover the entire yard red.
Some of it is still fresh, dripping down shipping containers. I walk over, examining the blood as it drops onto my finger, wiping it away on my pants
“At least this place has some color for once,” I joke, stepping over the night shift crew.
The men are scattered all over the place, left to perish between columns of containers. Looking into the distance, I see a more slung over the bow of a ship that was in the process of being unloaded, like figureheads, there for symbolic value.
“Did you see any of the men?”
“No,” answers Luka, walking beside me. “I received a call from Ivan. He was on watch overnight.”
I flash Luka a glare, clenching my jaw. “Where is Ivan now?”
“He should be around somewhere.”
“Let me deal with him. For now, I need you to organize a clean-up before this reaches public knowledge. The last thing we need on top of Alexander’s theatrics is our name plastered across the news.”
“I agree,” says Luka, saying that to the bow of the ship, more focused on the bodies that have been arranged there. “Do you see it?”
“See what?” I follow his vision, clenching my jaw even fucking harder when I see that my men have been arranged into the letter G on the bow of my ship. “Bylat. Tend to these bodies first. A ship from Poland is due to dock two hours from now. I want this place looking spotless before they arrive.”
“Of course, bratan,” says Luka, staring vacantly at the bow.
I turn on my heel, looking out into the dockyard. A cold wind whistles through the expanse, slamming into metal shipping containers with a thud, sending me straight back to those cold nights I spent alone here as a boy, thinking I had it hard.
Sixteen-year-old me was na?ve to how cruel life could really get. I stare at the crew, wasting away in the bleak atmosphere, haunted by my sister’s terrified face as she looked skyward, finding solace in the stars instead of her big brother as she passed.
Guilt clings to my chest, making it impossible to walk. I put one foot in front of the other, battling through the harsh wind as I head toward the watch tower.
One glance up tells me that the operations room is currently unoccupied.
Ivan, along with twenty other men, are the only people who have access to this room.
Alexander was making himself comfortable behind the control panel only a few days ago, and now an entire crew are dead. It’s no fucking coincidence.
I call for the elevator, the old mechanics clunking as I ride up in silence, feeling the guilt, holding it close to my chest. I need to channel it into anger, otherwise it will destroy me and my family, my children gone before I even get the chance to meet them.
Doubts fill my mind, shifting the guilt into something negative.
How am I meant to protect three vulnerable people if I failed to protect one?
Nobody else in this industry has time for family.
Good, innocent things always perish—case in point with the entire night shift crew, full of men just trying to make ends meet.
Some of them knew the docks were being run by organized crime, but they turned a blind eye, willing to run the risk just for a good paycheck at the end of the month.
Good people never win, and that is why I will always keep Fia by my side…
The elevator dings, arriving at the top of the watch tower.
I shuffle out, knife under my belt as I enter the operations room, finding it locked.
Everything appears to be in working order, despite the obvious.
My dockyard looks even more miserable from this angle, thirty-two dead bodies disintegrating in the morning.
The sun climbs higher in the sky, shredding light onto my failures.
And then I see a hand waving, flagging me down.
Ivan’s hands are caked in blood, desperately trying to get my attention.
I’ll give him the attention he deserves.
I return to the elevator, riding it down to ground level. As soon as the doors slide open, I fly out, barreling straight over to him.
“It’s about time you got yourself over here.”
“Cut the act right now,” I snarl. “We both know why you’re covered in my men’s blood, and it’s not because you had any interest in saving them.”
“What else would I be doing?”
Anger courses through my veins, causing me to knock Ivan off his feet.
Ivan crawls backward, putting distance between us when he sees my knife. Confusion lines between his brow, like he’s having trouble understanding what he did wrong.
“The attacker was using the fog to his advantage. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late,” says Ivan. “I caught up to the attacker, but before I could yank off his mask, he told me to stay the fuck away, unless I wanted to meet the same fate as the deceased on the floor.”
The sincerity in his eyes stalls me for a second, but I refuse to hesitate. You can’t afford to do that when innocent lives are at stake.
“Your imagination is wilder than your dreams to take over my Bratva, Ivan,” I snort. “Being alone in the docks slowly drives you insane, so I understand why you deluded yourself into thinking you would succeed. But your lies don’t work on me.”
Ivan shakes his head, laughing, like I cracked the funniest joke. “You think I did this,” he states, giving himself time to process his thoughts. “You’re even more fucked in the head than I thought.”
I close the gap between us, grabbing the bastard by his collar, staring deep into his eyes. “A man who speaks ill of his leader is a man who deserves to spend the rest of his days burning in hell.”
“Fair enough,” says Ivan, shrugging off the comment.
“I’ll be there to greet you when your time comes.
” His eyes darken, his mouth upturned in anger.
“I’ll say this as many times as it pleases me, since I’m going to die either way: You’re a lovesick fool, Emil.
I lose more faith in you each day than starving prisoners lose weight.
Each year, you prove to be more of a disappointment, spending more time sinking into pussy than prioritizing what really matters.
No fucking wonder Alexander is getting closer. ”
“If you opened your eyes for a second,” he continues, “You would see that Alexander is the exact same person he always has been, just a weak, optimistic man with goals, all of which are now achievable, thanks to you falling in love,” says Emil, his face tight with anger.
“Love is weakness, and you have been cursed. My death is the only way I can prevent your weakness from rubbing off on me, so please,” he says, extending his arms. “Be my guest and set me free.”
I grind my jaw, refusing to let this traitor’s words crawl underneath my skin. He might not be guilty for sending information to Alexander, but he is still a traitor, going against the oath he signed all those years ago.
“Death shows who has the control and who lacks it,” I tell Ivan, lunging forward, teasing the blade under his throat. “Your opinions are irrelevant in the face of god.”
I draw a line down his neck, opening up his throat. Ivan chokes on his own blood, red liquid spilling out of his mouth, his neck, even his nostrils as he takes his last few staggered breaths before joining the rest of the night shift crew.
I stand over him, watching the blood spill across the floor. I clean the blade on my pants pocket, sheathing it back under my belt. A dead man’s words should be irrelevant, but the more I stare at Ivan, the more his words crawl under my skin, causing my mind to wander.
How many others share Ivan’s opinion?
“What the fuck, Emil?” calls Luka, falling into a jog to catch up to me. “Why kill Ivan? He’s our most resourceful guy when it comes to watching the docks, keeping an eye on things.”
“He showed his true colors.”
Lines appear between Luka’s brows. “Please don’t tell me he’s the?—”
“No, the Judas is still among us, but Ivan has no business working for me when he refuses to support my love for Fia, and the family I’m creating.”
“Ivan never had a family,” states Luka, “so I can see why he would have a problem with yours, but murdering the man is a step too far during these vulnerable times.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” I say, flashing Luka a glare.
Luka, after returning my glare, turns back around, watching Ivan waste away with the rest of the men.
“We need to increase security around here,” I say. “Double down on CCTV and make sure this never happens again. In the meantime, all this needs to be cleaned up,” I say, sliding my bloody hands into my pocket and taking my leave.
Flies swarm the dead bodies as I maneuver around them, heading back to my car. My fingers are itching to grab my gun and round up all my employees like sheep, organizing them into a line so I can threaten their lives and see who is truly on my side.
Alexander’s presence is turning my men into snakes.