28. Emil #3
“Almost. I paid your boss because I heard good things about the company, particularly from you, Fia. You were the youngest in the team, but showed great potential, winning over every single case that landed on your desk. I knew you had what it took to destroy Emil’s Bratva, and you were so close.”
Fia keeps watching Alexander, her searching eyes darting across his face. “Thank fuck I failed.”
“You would have succeeded, had Emil not kidnapped you and threatened you into silence,” says Alexander, letting that last sentence ring for a beat before starting his next. “You were the key, but instead you fell for manipulation.”
I mop sweat from my brow, agitated. No fucking wonder the Kuzmins attempted to kill Fia when she was wandering through the dockyard, searching for clues. They knew she switched sides. They wanted her gone…
“It was a double-edged-sword, hitting you with that car. Your death would have solved everything,” continues Alexander.
“As well as Emil being weakened, we could have stopped your obsession with truth seeking, living between the facts like your life depends on it. Ignorance can be very blissful sometimes, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Your curiosity, along with Emil’s stupidity, is what has led you here today,” says Alexander. “If you refused manipulation and remained firm with your boundaries, you would never have been in this situation.”
“I’m glad I’m in this situation,” quips Fia, her lips pressed into a tight line.
“Unlike you, I’m willing to die for love, knowing it will find me again in the next life, taking any shape, any form.
We should hit you with a car, send you into a coma and see who sticks around when you’re a stranger to your own mind.
Your men will go find another leader to worship, one with money.
You’ll wake up in that hospital bed alone, with not even your own mind to count on.
And when you die, the only mark you will leave behind is a foul taste in my mouth,” says Fia, glancing at Luka. “Both of you.”
We should speed up their deaths. I want both of them dead this instant.
“For a while,” continues Alexander, “I succeeded when you woke up with amnesia. You forgot your memories, which should have been your strength in all of this. Instead, you saw the amnesia as a weakness, counting on Emil to jog your memories, allowing yourself to be manipulated all over again.”
Fia catches my attention, the corner of her eye twitching, like she’s trying to communicate to me telepathically. Dragging her gaze down to the guard, she blinks rapidly, staring at the dead guard’s hip.
Patting under his suit jacket, I grab the knife lodged under his belt, equipping myself with two while Luka and Alexander’s attention is still on Fia.
When I have everything I need, I stand in front of Fia and place a hand around my back, blindly searching for the zip ties.
“I’ll take it from here,” I say, facing Alexander and Luka myself.
“Sure you will, ruining people before they have a chance to defend themselves.”
I stay focused on Alexander. I can always rely on that mudak to chat bullshit, buying me more time as I run the sharp blade over Fia’s arm, concentrating on the zip ties.
My men are stationed outside like dogs waiting for an order but setting them loose doesn’t feel like a fair fight. I will prove Alexander and Luka right, showing them my power without needing accomplices.
With everything out in the open, I now have more of a reason to gloat. Alexander, in a roundabout way, has admitted to failure. He thought Fia would solve all of his problems, but my spitfire threw a giant spanner in the works, complicating everything.
Thank fuck she was unable to resist my charms.
And now Alexander has a proposition for me, wanting me to join forces with him after plotting to destroy me for years?
I stifle a laugh, amused by how foolish he is.
His proposition does appeal to the little boy still existing within me. Belonging after spending countless years alone, losing my family at a young age, feels like a dream come true, but dreams are facades.
Three leaders can never work, not even two. One will always come out stronger, and I intend to show them that their plan will fail miserably, as soon as Fia is out of here.
I tap the flat side of my blade against the zip tie, ensuring the knife will penetrate plastic and not Fia’s skin. After hooking the blade under the strap, I lift up, the satisfying sound of tearing plastic filling the room.
I pin my men waiting outside a glare, telling them to stay put.
I then retract both knives and barrel forward, ready to kill two birds with one stone.
The lack of movement behind me is a concern. I glance over my shoulder. Fia is free, one of her arms no longer bound down by the zip ties. She can use the free hand to wrangle her other arm free, but instead she is choosing to remain seated, and defeated.
“Fia,” I grit. “Fucking get out of here. Run.”
“Not without you.”
An immense dread fills me, like I’ve been injected with anesthesia, bound to fail any second now.
“Congratulations,” chuckles Alexander, “for making her fall back in love with you. Now you can lose the shackles. She’ll tie them around her own wrists, keeping herself always strapped to you, without you even needing to lift a finger.
Love can be hauntingly devastating, but it also comes with great power.
Fia will die serving you,” says Alexander, angling his head to the side.
“How does that make you feel as a Bratva leader whose dream was always to get people on their knees, worshipping you?”
“It feels like a dream come true,” I sneer, sinking my blade deep into Alexander’s chest. He slides down the wall, the trail of blood following him all the way to the floor.
“You were so close to winning, and yet so far. Any last words?”
“I already have won,” says Alexander in broken English. “Your empire will burn without enemies keeping you in check, giving your cock a reason to stay in your pants.”
Something switches on Luka’s face as he watches Alexander pass, his eyes widening, brows rising as realization settles. One down, one to go.
I fixate both knives in my hand, one at each side, and wait for Luka to pounce.
A ringing silence stretches in the moments after Alexander’s death. Two dead bodies are keeping us company in this very cramped shipping container, the floor soaked red, blood marked across the wall.
Dark clouds pass overhead, casting moving shadows outside. I have no concept of time or the outside world. Everything narrows down to this moment, time itself pausing as I face the two most significant people in my life.
I keep a watchful eye on Luka while urging Fia to run, raising my brow, clenching my jaw, giving her signals that she keeps refusing to fucking take.
She shakes her head reluctantly when I finally look at her, proving their point.
I have trapped her in a life she never wanted.
It is therefore my responsibility to free the shackles she has around her own wrist. She thinks she no longer wants that, but her and the twins have a much better chance at surviving away from me.
Suddenly, Luka has her at knifepoint, the blade fixated under her chin, rendering her entire body frozen.
Fia’s face is petrified, her eyes wide, her teeth chattering from the fear.
“Let her go,” I say sternly to Luka.
“Hand everything over to me, the Bratva, the assets, and you can live out your suburban fantasy in the city. The white picket fence, the wife, the kids, the swing set, the family dinners around the table every evening, it can all be yours.” Luka pinches his eyes, one side of his mouth sloping into a smile.
“Or you can do your future self a favor and let me kill her. Friends look out for each other. They help the other see the truth when one is fighting a losing battle with their delusions.” Luka tips his chin, challenging me.
“You can lose yourself in trying to become a better person, grieving a life that was never yours to begin with, or you can accept who you were always meant to be.”
“And what do you propose exactly?” I say, keeping both knives at my side. “We become business partners and rule the Volkovs together?”
“Friends share.”
“No, they betray.”
“And you think the suburban lifestyle is any different? Marriages, christenings, celebrations; they all end in you wearing black, saying prayers in a church as you bury the people you love one by one. Life builds you up one milestone at a time. You finally have two feet to stand on, and then the floor disappears, sending you falling. Don’t you fucking get it?
Being involved, having a family, will never make you secure.
You smile just to cry, build yourself up just to fall, and the cycle repeats until death puts a stop to it.
Look me in the eye right now, Emil, and tell me you want that. ”
I grind my jaw, seeing that blade edge closer to Fia’s throat.
Being exempt from society, from the trials and tribulations of life was all I wanted.
Loving Fia makes me a man, not a monster, but seeing Luka hold my love up at knifepoint, threatening her life, merges the monster and the man.
I go in for the fucking kill, aiming a knife at Luka’s head. I line up my shot, straightening my vision, throwing the blade like a dart.
It cuts across the container, time slowing right down as it sails through the air. Every amplified heartbeat rocks my body, a lump forming in my throat as I pray this knife hits the right person.
Never underestimating oneself is the first rule of thumb for success, but the stakes are very fucking high.
The knife misses Fia’s head by an inch, cutting straight into Luka’s forehead.
Relief swims through me as Luka stumbles backward. He trips over Alexander’s body, landing on top of his master. They make quite a pair, especially from this angle. Luka wears Alexander’s crotch like a hat, blood streaming down his face.