Chapter 11
Gavriil
“Fuck.”
I clench my teeth to keep more curses at bay as I stare down at Timur’s body. It was dumped behind the same warehouse that he was kidnapped from.
His lifeless blue eyes stare up at the sky that’s a similar color. Dried specks and splatters of blood coat his face and neck, while his shirt and pants are stained red and in near tatters because of how much he was stabbed and cut.
Matvei stands to my left, a deep-set frown carved into his face. “They tortured him before they killed him.”
I give him a curt nod. “And they killed him when he was no longer useful to them.”
“Maybe he didn’t say anything,” Leon remarks from my right. “Maybe he was quiet until the end.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I reply, tucking my hands into my pockets so that I stop flexing my fingers so much.
All of this makes me restless as hell. I didn’t want another loss. Now, I have the body of one of my best men at my feet, and I still don’t know who did this shit to him.
“Did you check him for evidence?” I ask Matvei.
Matvei shakes his head. “Not yet. I wanted to wait for you.”
I nod, and he crouches to check Timur’s pockets. He reaches into the front right pocket of Timur’s jeans and pulls out a folded note, his gaze immediately moving to mine.
I take the note from him, unease crawling up my neck as I unfold it to reveal writing in black ink. I read it aloud: “Reduce your patrols or more men will meet his fate. You’re postponing the inevitable. What was once ours will belong to us again.”
“What the fuck?” Leon mutters, his face screwing up in confusion.
“If our extra patrols are pissing them off, then we’re doing something right,” I say as I hand the note over to Matvei so that he can add it to our evidence files. “Make sure everyone is heavily armed at all times.”
“Yes, sir,” Leon replies before pulling out his phone to message the patrol leaders.
“Call the others here. Bury him,” I tell Matvei. “I don’t think he had any family.”
Matvei shakes his head. “We were his family.”
That isn’t uncommon in our world. Emotional attachments are dangerous, possibly lethal. It’s easy for an enemy to track down a loved one and use them as leverage.
I’ve warned Dominik countless times not to get attached to anyone. That creates another weak spot for enemies to attack, and I’d rather my brother not end up like Timur. All I’ve ever done is try to protect him and how does he repay me? By falling for the wrong damn woman and choosing her over me.
I can’t believe Alina overheard me having a nightmare.
Most of my other captives received blindfolds and earplugs that I insisted they use every night, so this was never a problem.
I don’t like the idea of her watching me sleep, or hearing my cries, no doubt from the same nightmare I’ve had for years. No matter what I do, I keep going back to the night my father gave me the scars on my abdomen, nearly killing me before I got the upper hand.
It wasn’t my life I was worried about but Dominik’s when he sliced me open.
My brother once looked up to me, idolized me like I was his hero. No more though.
Dominik would rather see me dead and tortured like Timur than alive and tormenting his stubborn wildcat.
Shaking my head to deal with the matter at hand, I tell Matvei, “We need to figure out who the fuck did this to Timur. The note said that what was once theirs will belong to them again.”
Matvei nods. “I doubt they’re just talking about a building.”
“They must be talking about the entire territory,” Leon says. “The Bratva hasn’t always ruled this area of the city.”
“Who came before then?” Matvei replies.
“The Irish,” I tell them as I search my memories and all the things I heard from older Bratva men before my father came over from Russia. “There was a bloody war decades ago between the Irish and the Bratva over this part of the city.”
“Obviously, we won,” Leon says. “Now they want it back?”
“Why not? They think we’re weak right now,” I reply with a hint of bitterness in my voice. “I don’t think they’re working alone, though. I’m sure the Irish have allies.”
“What do we do? We know where the scum resides,” Leon points out.
I stay silent for a few seconds as I think to myself, trying to build a plan in my head. I have some ideas, but I don’t know which one makes the most sense long-term. Dominik is better at this than I am.
He’d know what to do.
But I have to do this myself.
And like it or not, him or his men still need to be publicly punished.
“We’re going to remind them why we own this territory and they don’t,” I state as I cross my arms over my chest. “We’re going to track down one of their patrols and strike.”
“An attack?” Matvei replies as he lifts his eyebrows in surprise.
I nod, despite the flicker of uncertainty in my gut. The problem is that we look weak to our enemies, and we need to fix that.
“It’ll be a warning,” I tell him. “Leon, organize a group to carry out the attack. I’ll gather a small team to help me do some recon today so that we can pinpoint a good strike location.”
Leon hesitates for a moment before nodding. It irritates me, but I don’t call him out on it. We’re moving quickly, but I feel like we have to in order to send a firm message.
“We’ll reconvene tonight and finalize the details. For now, I have business to attend to downstairs,” I say before pulling my phone out of my pocket and choosing two men in my contact list to call in for a quick recon mission after I handle business with my brother.
“Yes, sir,” they both reply.
“Get to it. And give Timur a proper burial,” I tell them before walking off to make my calls, pushing past the weight building on top of my chest.
If we can’t scare off the Irish, things are only going to get worse.
Much worse.
I need to remind everyone that I’m in control. And that starts with proving to my men that I will hold traitors accountable.
All of them.