Kirill nods grimly, his jaw clenching in settlement. “He most likely is aware of already.” He glances at me, his darkish eyes softening for a second earlier than hardening once more. “We are going to hit him at his compound. The place he least expects it.”

“We’ll want extra intel first,” Dima says, brows furrowed.

Kirill units me gently again onto the chair and straightens. “I feel I do know the place to start out, bratok.” I swivel a bit and see that he’s trying down at Aleksei, who’s mendacity clutching his stomach, which is a bloody mess. I strive to not gag.

Dima provides a low chuckle. “You left one alive.”

“Perhaps I’m getting rusty,” Kirill chuckles. “Though I see now that it was lucky.”

I watch as Kirill and Dima strategy the person who had terrified me a lot. A part of me needs to look away, however I don’t. Aleksei remains to be alive, however barely. But nonetheless, there’s contempt twisting his options. He’s powerful, I’ll give him that.

Kirill stands over him, his eyes chilly and lethal. “Who informed Petrov about the place we’ll be at this time?” he growls.

Aleksei laughs, or a minimum of tries to. It comes out as extra of a wheeze. “You assume that I’d inform you?”

Kirill’s face darkens, and he kicks Aleksei within the chest. “Who’s it?” He repeats, his voice dangerously low.

Aleksei coughs up some blood, however he nonetheless doesn’t reply. As a substitute, he taunts Kirill once more. “You’re a joke, Vyronov,” he gasps. “Your empire is crumbling, and also you don’t even see it.”

“That isn’t what I’m asking.” Kirill’s foot settles on Aleksei’s chest. As he presses down, extra blood pulses from the person’s torn stomach. Aleksei screams, however by way of all of it, he begins to snort. The sound is greater than a loss of life rattle.

“You assume you’re so highly effective, however you’re not. All of them hate you,” he taunts. “Your so-called… troopers. They’re… they’re simply ready for the precise second to take you down.”

Kirill’s fist tightens, and I can see the trend constructing inside him. He’s about to strike once more when Aleksei lastly speaks.

“The one you’re searching for is… nearer than you assume.” His tooth are bloodstained when he laughs once more.

“Who, goddammit?” Kirill barks.” He’s placing weight onto his foot. I’m positive I hear one thing crunch.

“Boss,” Dima says, elevating a hand. “Take it simple. We don’t wish to push too far, or we’ll—”

It’s too late. Aleksei’s phrases are lower off by a gurgle as he chokes on his personal blood. His pupils widen, then go nonetheless as he heaves out his final breath.

He doesn’t take one other.

Kirill stands there for a second, his chest heaving with anger and exertion. Then he turns to Dima. “We want a reputation, Dima,” he says, his voice like ice. “Time to make some calls. Discover out who their informant is and the way a lot of our group Petrov has infiltrated.”

“On it, Boss.” Dima provides a nod, his jaw tight. “However we’re going to should take down Petrov’s entire group, it doesn’t matter what I discover. There shall be no negotiating with him. And meaning—”

“I do know and I don’t care,” Kirill cuts him off. “He made his place very clear with this newest offense. Disrespecting my mom’s reminiscence by attacking throughout her funeral. Taking Tiana to get to me… That is now not diplomacy, Dima. That is conflict.”

Kirill walks nearer and stares down at me. He reaches out a hand and gently brushes a strand of hair from my face. I’ve to look away from the tenderness in his eyes. How can he be so cold-blooded one second and so light the following?

“You’re proper.” Dima’s nostrils flare as he exhales. “One insult after one other. If we don’t wreak havoc, he’ll assume we’re weak. Rumors will get out. We’ll be going through off towards each two-bit outfit attempting to make a reputation for themselves.”

“Then we’re in settlement.” Kirill’s jaw clenches. “You already know what to do.”

Dima nods and leaves the room. Kirill turns to me, his expression softer now. “You okay, Ptichka?” he asks, reaching out to the touch my face once more. “Are you robust sufficient to stroll?”

I stiffen at his contact, and he hesitates, his forehead furrowing. “What’s fallacious?”

I stare up at him. The raging battle in me lastly settling into one thing that I can perceive, one thing that I cling to. I have to know the reality. Now. He cups my cheek, and I yank my head away.

“We have to discuss,” I snap.

Chapter Sixteen

Kirill

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