Shades of Loyalty

Chapter One Daniel

Chapter One

Daniel

We’re here to meet with Volkov’s men. Two pieces of intel. Two sentences. That’s all we’re here for, and I want to get this over with quickly.

I don’t fuck around, and I surely don’t want to spend half an hour to find these guys.

I take a few looks around the dark alley, careful to keep my footsteps quiet. My senses stay sharp—the last thing I want is to get killed by some low-level rival dealers.

It would be a pathetic way to go.

Embarrassing, even.

My heartbeat spikes as a figure appears to my right. Instinct kicks in, and I raise my gun.

My finger twitches on the trigger just a second before I realize whose face it is that I’m staring at, followed by a wave of relief punching through me.

“Chill, man. It’s just me,” Hayden whispers, his voice low. I nod but don’t raise my voice.

The more we talk, the greater the chance someone might spot us. We’re here to make a deal—not to kill—but one wrong action might fuck all this up, ending in the death of someone.

Hayden moves ahead, taking the lead while I scan the area. Where the fuck are they?

We’re here to get information about a lost shipment. It’d take them two sentences to tell me that information.

Yet their boss is too much of a coward to send an email. “Too risky,” my ass.

Our security system is one of the best. I hired the most sought-after men in the country just to get everything set up the right way.

Just when I’m about to speak up for the first time, a sudden crack splits the dark morning hours of Chicago.

It’s a gunshot — and not a quiet one, at that. They must be amateurs.

Fuck — are they his trainees?

Volkov promised to send his best-trained men.

It’d be bold of him to send them without a silencer.

So, we’ve got two options: either Volkov fucked up his choice of men, or we’re the ones who’re fucked if we’ve got some drugged-up maniacs out there.

Either way, someone might’ve been shot. If so, for fuck’s sake, I hope it isn’t my trainee, Roy.

And trust me, if it is Roy, the one responsible can start practicing their prayers now — because I’ll make sure they’re going to need them.

I glance at Hayden, but he’s already meeting my gaze, wide-eyed. “This is… great,” he mutters, nodding toward a small hole in the wall ahead.

I roll my eyes and step through, my mood dropping lower than the graves I bury my enemies in.

My worst-case scenario greets me: five men standing in the dark, and one of my men lying motionless in a growing pool of blood.

Roy. Roy, who I’d grown up with. Roy, who’d just fucking gotten engaged.

Roy. Who’s the trainee I was supposed to fucking protect with my life.

You failed again.

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. If I hadn’t learned how to control my temper when I was young, I would’ve put holes through all their worthless heads already.

The lighting in this alley is shit—it’s hard to memorize their faces, but I try.

Even if it’s just one guy, I need to remember his face. Just a few details will be enough for someone like me to haunt them down and bury them five feet under.

I need to report this situation back to Volkov as soon as I get back to my office.

The men are not hooded. They’re not even wearing masks. Nothing to hide their features, and thus—nothing to protect their life.

All they’re wearing is a disgustingly reckless smile as they look down on their prey.

And yet, the second one of them looks up, noticing me and Hayden standing just a foot in front of them—the second they realize who I am—fear flashes in their eyes.

Fear of me, someone else would think.

Fear of death, however, sounds so much better.

I haven’t raised my gun, and yet they look at me like I’m seconds away from blowing their heads off. They’re scared. Terrified. I like that. In fact, I love it.

I enjoy seeing these pussies almost piss themselves, blinded by fear.

What I don’t enjoy, however, is Roy bleeding out in front of us.

Because what the fuck were they doing? Certainly not telling him the information like they were supposed to, I’d assume. It makes me question if they are truly Volkov’s men.

I’m gonna have to find that out, one way or another.

However, just as I’m about to speak up, they turn and run.

They turn their backs while we’re armed.

They’re fools — all of them. No sense of self-preservation, reckless to boot.

They’re not ready for this world. Anyone could tell they’re not professionals.

How stupid does Volkov have to be to send me guys like them? Untrained, killing innocent people? Triggering a war?

Fuck. I am not even sure if they were his men anymore. He wouldn’t be that idiotic, I know Yuri Volkov.

He’s not like this. He never made mistakes like these before, and I doubt he’s going to start now.

Hayden raises his gun and aims, but I stop him before he makes any stupid decision. Killing Volkov’s men would mean war.

We can’t risk that. I might not know if they truly are his men, but regardless, I’ll deal with this shit later.

Shooting men doesn’t bother me.

Shooting Volkov’s men, however, would.

“Forget about it,” I mumble. “They’ll see what they get from pulling an amateur move like this.”

Hayden gulps, the sound audible in the silence. “Are you sure we should let them run?” I simply laugh. “What do you want me to do? Risk killing some of his guys in training and cause a whole war? I know better than that.”

They’ll regret this. I’ll make sure of it.

Roy didn’t deserve to die like this. And those cowards won’t get away with it.

Fucking Yuri Volkov, you’ll hear from me. And pay with your fucking life if this is your doing.