28. Andrei
Andrei
T he last time Maksim summoned me, he’d pulled back on his amount of security significantly, which means I just need to find a way to get the remaining men to look the other way when I show up.
The sun has set, but I don’t like the odds of trying to sneak onto the property unnoticed.
I need to get this done and over with as soon as possible. Blair and Niko are safe with Alexei for now, but I can’t discount the possibility that Marcell won’t have me followed just so he can strike before I get a chance to hold up my end of the deal.
Which means I’m not going back to Blair until Maksim is dead.
One of the few upsides to having a paranoid, increasingly unstable pakhan is that he’ll need me to clean up a mess for him soon enough. I just need to be patient and find a way to keep his security from knowing I’m there.
His calls are daily, bordering on hourly over the past couple weeks, and for once, I’m glad when my phone rings, turning toward his house before I even hang up on him.
His words are slurred, barely comprehensible as he screams through the line.
If circumstances were different, I’d add it to the list of things Maksim’s done to piss me off.
Right now, I hope he’s fucking wasted. Hell, I hope he’s gone on such a rampage, made such a mess, that no one will notice another body added to the pile.
I pull up to the gate, but the gatehouse is dark.
With rising suspicion, I drive along the driveway, but there are no guards wandering around, no men watching the front door.
The bottom floor is dark. Half expecting to walk into carnage, I’m pleasantly surprised to find the inside clean, all the way until I find Maksim in his office.
Maybe it’s my lucky day after all.
There’s only a single corpse on the floor, and for the first time in weeks, I don’t recognize them.
Maksim’s slumped forward at his desk, glass forgotten as he takes a swig straight from the bottle, pressing it against a spot where his eye is starting to swell shut with a bruise.
He doesn’t react to my presence, doesn’t even seem to realize that we’re alone.
Whoever this was, at least they put up a fight. Even if they were only brave enough because Maksim smells like a distillery, it’s better than the sea of bodies that were too frightened to defend themselves that I’ve cleaned up over the years.
Every inch of space Maksim’s ever consumed has been a waste. He’s only ever been a spoiled, angry child who faceplanted into power and never learned to be content with it. His constant struggle for more money and glory will be what defines his life .
His legacy will be bloodshed.
As long as Maksim is alive, he’ll never cease to ruin everything and everyone he perceives as a threat to his ego. And through my association with him, he’ll always be a threat to me.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something?” His voice is slurred, barely coherent in his drunken haze. I’ve been standing here for several minutes, but he’s acting like I’ve just arrived, his bleary eyes watching me as I take in the destruction.
The remains of a vase lie in front of one of the broken bookshelves, shattered in a hundred beautifully decorated, ornate pieces. There’s blood spattered across the crushed velvet chairs, already drying and ruining the fabric. Everything is in ruins, a shell of what it once was.
“I’m curious about what happened,” I say with a shrug, picking one of the shards up.
“I’m not paying you to be curious,” he wheezes through his broken nose as he takes another swig. He’s swaying from side to side, even while sitting.
“How the hell did you manage to take him down?” I can’t stop myself from asking as I tilt my head toward the body on the floor.
Decorum is wasted at this point, and I’m not going to force myself to bother with it.
“You’re blind drunk, and he looks like he was a healthy young man. So, how’d you do it?”
He drops the bottle to the ground and places his hands weakly on the desk, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon as he pushes himself up. Even then, he still sways, like a stiff breeze could push him over .
“Are you so numb that you don’t feel anything?” I continue. The body’s neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, limbs akimbo. “Wait, let me guess. You didn’t kill him at all, did you? He fell, hit his head, and you snapped his neck when he passed out.”
He takes a couple of shuffling steps toward me, clinging to the edge of the desk for support. “Want to try that again, pizda? ”
The single lamp illuminates his sagging frame, his clothes just as rumpled as the rest of the room, the fine fabric of his shirt a reflection of the broken debris and the opulence of the furniture.
I can’t help but smirk as I circle away from him, keeping my distance. He might be so drunk he’s barely standing, but he’s still a wildcard. He has nothing left to lose, and that makes him dangerous.
“You couldn’t get the job done on your own, could you? That’s pathetic, even for you.”
I turn the piece of broken vase over in my hand, running my thumb along the jagged edge.
The room, like the rest of the house, is draped in ubiquitous luxury. Yet he’s reduced it all to nothing but gilded garbage.
“Take a look at how far you’ve fallen, Maksim. You expect me to believe you’re the feared pakhan? You can’t even stand on your own two feet anymore. How long has your drinking problem been out of your control? Or are you just so choked up over the waste of space that you called a son?”
I step to the side as he lunges for me, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Any hope I had of tonight being satisfying is long gone. He’s nothing but a shadow of the man who used to loom over the rest of us. He’s never deserved his power, and it’s never been more apparent than it is now.
“What do you know about my son?”
I shrug, thick porcelain cracking under my shoes as I walk away, keeping an eye on him the whole time.
“I know he was drunk when I killed him. I suppose he got that from you.” I let my words sink in, and I can see the moment they click, his chest heaving and face stricken. His eyes flare as I move around the room.
Maybe my confession gave him the jolt he needs to sober up a hair, because he seems to find his feet beneath him in slow, shuffling steps.
“I know Pavel was a threat to my wife. I know that he was harder to kill than you’ll be. I know that his death was far more satisfying.”
The rapidly cooling body lies on the ground between us, his blood soaking into the rug. When Maksim lurches toward me, his fists swim blindly. I grab his shoulders, catching him before he falls face-first into me, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“What did you do?” he seethes, the vein in his forehead pounding rapidly beneath his weathered skin.
“You saw his body at the morgue, right? You know exactly what I did.”
“I will fucking end you, Voronov!”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He moves quicker than I thought he’d be able to, a series of wild blows coming at me faster than I expected. One clips me on the chin, the sting throwing me off balance for just a moment, long enough for his other hand to reach out and grab my face. His nails claw into my cheek, drawing blood.
If he weren’t drunk, he would’ve gone straight for my eye. I almost let out an inappropriate huff of laughter at the thought. Almost .
Instead, I shift my grip, pressing the point of the broken vase against the side of his neck. I apply enough pressure to get his attention, and he stills, even as his nails stay embedded in my cheek, gouging against my flesh.
“You kill me, and they’ll come after you. Your wife, ” he spits the word, as if the very idea is poisonous, “still won’t be safe.”
“No one’s been loyal enough to die for you for a long fucking time.” I press harder, a bead of blood dripping down his neck.
“And you’re planning on taking over?”
“Fuck no. And I don’t give a fuck who does. Until it’s a man who isn’t a threat to my family, I’ll kill them, too.”
I stab into the delicate skin and muscle that protects his carotid artery, immediately calmed by the warm blood that rushes around the rough edges of the porcelain.
He lets out a shocked gasp and I pull back, refusing to react even when his blood splatters against the wall.
It isn’t long before he collapses to his knees, hovering over the other body.
I crouch next to him, grabbing his chin in my bloodied hand, forcing him to look at me as he bleeds out. “I give my loyalty to those who deserve it. And that has never been you,” I snarl, forcing the shard into his neck once again, letting it make a home in his rotting flesh .
Maksim crumples unceremoniously, soaking both him and the corpse in red. Lifting the cold hand of the dead man, I put it on the shard still in Maksim’s neck, using his hand to hold the shard in place until Maksim’s blood stops flowing.
Only after the dead man’s hand is covered in Maksim’s blood do I drop it, doing my best to make it look like whoever this man was is the one who killed Maksim.
It won’t be enough to convince any cops that there wasn’t another person here, but it’ll give me deniability if I’m asked.
But, realistically, no one’s going to care who really killed Maksim Maslov, anyway. The Outfit and I will know the truth, and that’s all I care about.
For Maksim to die alone in a tattered room, with no one to care, would be the ultimate failure in his eyes. I hope this corpse enjoys the notoriety of being the one to do the honor.
At least on paper.
I linger only long enough to wash the blood off my hands and face before I head home to change my clothes and tend to the scratches on my face. They won’t scar, but they won’t look great while they heal, either.
Then again, I probably have a few days before anyone even knows anything’s happened.
All I want is to have Blair and Niko home with me. I shoot a text off to Renzuto, letting him know my end of the deal is done. Even if he doesn’t believe me until someone exposes the body, he won’t try to do anything to me again until he knows for sure.
Once I no longer look like an extra from a slasher flick, I speed toward Alexei’s condo .
The need to have my family back in my arms is incessant, making it hard to breathe, and I don’t feel settled again until I’m carrying a sleeping Niko upstairs. I help him change into his pajamas while he’s half asleep, then carry him to our bedroom.
Blair’s already under the comforter, curling herself around my pillow when I lay him down next to her. She wraps an arm around him, pulling him to her chest as she looks at me with big, scared eyes. I give her a reassuring smile as I slip in next to them, laying a hand on her hip.
“Did you take care of it?” she whispers, looking worried even as her eyes are involuntarily fluttering shut. I nod, but she doesn’t see.
“Yeah. It’s not going to happen again.”
She nods, rubbing her face against the pillowcase.
I watch the two of them long after they fall asleep. I don’t want to turn off the light, though I know I should.
If there’s a heaven, I know that I’ll never see it. I’ve done too much shit for any God to even consider it. But knowing that these two, who mean more to me than I can ever express, trust me to keep them safe feels as close to it as a man like me could ever get.