CHAPTER 20
Rodian
When we get off the jet, the airfield is dead quiet.
“The stupid fucker doesn’t think you would bring the fight to him,” Andrei says as he opens the passenger door of an SUV that Mikhail, one of my captains, brought.
He was invaluable to me during the coup as he watched over Rosie when I couldn’t, and I trust him to help Sergei guard Anastasia on the plane.
She was still asleep when I kissed her goodbye, and I instructed Sergei that the men were to stay out of the bedroom.
“Always do the last thing the enemy will expect,” I say, and just as I sit down on the seat, my phone rings, and I dig it out. Seeing Rosie’s name, I quickly answer. “Hi.”
“What are you doing in Siberia?” she asks.
The damn tracking device she gave me is already a pain in my ass.
“Taking care of business,” I reply as Andrei shuts the door and jogs around the front of the SUV to get into the driver’s side.
“The others are going to be pissed–”
“Seriously, Rodian,” Enzo interrupts her, his tone telling me he’s not happy. “We’re supposed to be in an alliance.”
“I get that, but this is my fight. I let you have Yegor and Danill because of what they did to Rosie, but Sokolov is mine.”
“Fuck!” he snaps. “I’m leaving it to you to tell the others.”
“Fine.”
“Be safe out there,” Rosie says. “And as soon as you’re back, I have to give Anastasia, your family, and Andrei their trackers.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
We end the call, then I glance at my friend. “When we’re back home, Rosie will come over to give everyone their trackers, so don’t take off immediately.”
Even though we’re fucking close, Andrei has always been a lone wolf. My mother has tried to corner him many times to invite him to stay for a meal, but he always declines.
I pull up the map of where Sokolov’s hunting lodge is located and check the route and surrounding area. “We’ll park down the road from his place and go in on foot.”
“Okay,” Andrei murmurs. “Let me handle the guards where possible.”
I nod, zooming in on the woods and river behind the lodge to familiarize myself with the layout of the land.
We drive for close to an hour before Andrei pulls over on the side of the road about a mile from Sokolov’s property.
“Let’s do this,” he says as he switches off the engine.
I climb out and check my gun’s magazine before putting on warm gloves. Andrei grabs the machine gun and K-Bar that Mikhail left on the backseat for him, and the moment we enter the woods, he takes the lead.
I stay close behind him as we make our way through the thick snow, and we avoid talking because sound carries out here.
It takes us almost twenty minutes before lights appear between the trees, and as we get closer, I catch sight of Sokolov’s hunting lodge.
Andrei lifts a hand, stopping between the trees, and as we surveil the premises, I count four guards.
He indicates four with his fingers, and when I nod in agreement, we keep low as we leave our cover and run closer to the lodge.
When he suddenly drops even lower, I do the same, and we wait again.
Andrei watches the nearest guard like a fucking hawk, and the instant he turns his back to us, my friend darts away and runs across the snow.
Coming up behind the guard, he clamps a hand over his mouth while plunging the K-Bar twice into his chest. The fucker’s body jerks, then goes limp, and Andrei lets him drop to the snow before indicating for me to move.
We barely make it another twenty feet when the second guard comes around the corner of the lodge, freezing at the sight of us.
His hands tighten on the machine gun, but before he can raise it, Andrei grips the K-Bar by the tip of the blade and throws it.
The knife sails through the air before slamming into the man’s throat, his eyes flaring wide as he staggers and gurgles before falling backward.
My friend keeps himself between the remaining guards and me while we make our way to the side of the lodge.
Again, he indicates for me to wait before sprinting away. Striking like a fucking cobra, he locks an arm around the third guard’s throat, wrenching his head sharply to the side and breaking his neck.
The action gets the last guard’s attention, and as he runs toward us, the fucker bellows, “Volkov is here!”
Shouts erupt from inside, and knowing we’ve lost the element of surprise, I mutter, “Fuck it. Let’s finish this.”
I break out into a run, and when my body collides with the fucker, he grunts. Using the butt of my gun, I slam it into his face, and as he stumbles a step back, Andrei ends him with a shot to the head.
“I said let me handle the guards,” he mutters.
“Yeah-yeah, I was getting bored.”
Just as we come around the back of the lodge, a door slams open, hitting the wall loudly. The next second, Sokolov bursts outside, running surprisingly fast across the backyard for a man in his seventies.
“Blyad’!” Andrei snaps as I take off after the old man while tucking my gun into the front of my pants.
The bastard already has a good start as he heads straight for the row of snowmobiles parked behind the house. Throwing himself onto one, he revs the engine, making snow spray into the air as he speeds away in the direction of the woods.
There’s no fucking way I’m letting him slip through my fingers.
Andrei and I reach the snowmobiles seconds later, and grabbing the nearest one, I straddle the seat and start the engine before opening the throttle all the way.
Just then, more guards pour out of the house and open fire on us.
The fact that Sokolov left the house without his guards right behind him makes me think Junior is in there and he’s leading us away from his son so that he can make a clean getaway.
Oleg Jnr isn’t my target right now, and I focus on his father.
The machine surges forward, almost throwing me backward, and as I set after Sokolov, I hear Andrei returning fire right behind me.
By the time I reach the tree line, Sokolov is already weaving between the pines, his brown coat flashing in and out of sight. I push the snowmobile as hard as I can, ducking beneath a low branch as the skis bounce over the rough terrain.
The wind is fucking freezing on my face, and I tuck my chin lower, my eyes narrowing to slits.
Engines roar behind us, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see two of Sokolov’s men coming after us. One fires a shot at me, the sound cracking in the air, and just as I swerve around a tree, pieces of bark fall onto the snow from a bullet hitting the trunk.
“Kusok govna!” I shout, ducking lower over the handlebars while swerving around another tree. Drawing my weapon again, I manage to fire several shots while ducking and weaving to avoid bullets and branches.
Andrei swerves wide, trying to keep the second guard from getting alongside him, while the first comes racing straight at me.
Realizing he plans to ram into me, I wrench the handlebars sharply, but his machine clips mine hard enough to send me fishtailing through the snow.
My breats are ragged as I fight for control of the snowmobile, narrowly missing frozen shrubs before managing to straighten out just as he circles back for another attempt.
A gunshot cracks behind me, and the fucker jerks before slumping over the handlebars.
His snowmobile shoots forward and races onto the frozen river, where the machine spins sideways the second it hits the slick ice.
I watch as the vehicle comes to a crashing halt against an embankment and snow buries the fucker.
Searching for Sokolov, I spot him way ahead of us and open the throttle all the way to catch up.
I hear metal screeching behind me, and looking over my shoulder, I see Andrei ramming the other guard, who loses control of his snowmobile. It flips into the air, sending him flying, back first, into a tree.
Thank fuck we’re done with that.
With Sokolov’s men out of the way, I focus all my attention on the old man. He’s maybe fifty yards or so ahead of us, and I push the snowmobile to its limits.
“Come on! Faster!” I shout at the fucking machine, the trees becoming a blur around me as I close the distance between me and my target.
Sokolov glances over his shoulder, sees me coming, and starts swerving sharply between the trees, but every time he changes direction, it slows him down.
“You fucking dare attack my home!” I shout at him as I lift myself into a standing position.
The woods suddenly open onto a wide stretch of untouched snow, and taking a chance, I launch myself from the machine.
Tackling the bastard off his snowmobile, we both slam fucking hard into the ground and roll several times. The impact sends pain tearing through my left shoulder, but I ignore it and jump to my feet.
Letting out a roar, I lunge at Sokolov, and grabbing the front of his coat, I punch him. My glove cushions the fucking blow, only pissing me off even more.
His head still snaps back, but he manages to rip his coat free from the shitty grip of my glove and tries to scramble to his feet.
I get up, and when Sokolov keeps slipping on the snow, I deliver a brutal kick to his gut, which makes him roll a couple of times before coming to a groaning stop.
Again, he tries to get up, but he’s too weak.
“How the fuck did you expect to be the pakhan if you can’t even get up and fight me?” I sneer, disgust thick in my voice.
By his third attempt, he’s breathing heavily, and I’m done watching him struggle.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, Oleg.”
He finally stops and slumps onto his knees.
“This is where it ends for you,” I say as I crouch in front of him while pulling off my gloves. “Give my regards to Yegor when you see him in hell.”
The old man lets out a tired chuckle, blood running from his nose and covering his mouth and chin before dripping onto the snow.
“We’ll wait for you.” His mouth pulls into a grim smile. “You and your best friend will join us soon enough.”
Wrapping my fingers around his neck, I look him dead in the eye as I strangle him.
Instinct overrides his pride, and he begins to slap at my arms and face while gasping and gagging.
Others might have mercy and snap his neck, but not me.
I savor every second as he fights for air, his lips blue and his eyes bulging. Finally, his body jerks and his arms slip to his sides, and when the life drains from his face, I let him drop onto the snow.
Picking up my gloves, I put them on as I climb to my feet. Because my snowmobile crashed, I grin at Andrei as I walk to him, saying, “You’re riding bitch, brat.”