Chapter 6 6

CHAPTER SIX

NIKOLIA

I stare at him, then I laugh. It’s dry and empty.

Russo takes everything from me and still wants more. Ten years ago, he took Clark from me, and tonight, apparently, he wants my head, too.

The humour drains out of me immediately, and rage crawls up my spine slowly, like boiling water.

“You expect me to believe you?” I ask quietly, trying to keep my rage at bay.

Clark exhales hard. “I heard him myself. He called someone. He said you’d probably be here or at the club tonight.”

I step closer to him, and my voice drops lower. “So, let me get this straight. Your father has been trying to kill me, and all this time, you said nothing?”

“I just found out – ”

“Bullshit.” I shove him hard against the wall. “You knew what kind of man he was. You knew what he was capable of. You still left me there like a fucking dog.”

“I LEFT TO SAVE YOU!” he roars back, finally snapping. “What else was I supposed to do? Watch him put a bullet in your skull?”

“You should’ve trusted me enough to choose with you.”

His breathing turns ragged. “I was nineteen.”

“So was I!” I bark at him, my chest constricting.

The office feels too small suddenly. The underground ring shakes beneath us with noise. This place sits beneath one of my clubs in Brooklyn. Illegal fights downstairs, and gambling upstairs. Half the city’s filth is packed into one building.

He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I came here to help you.”

“You came here because guilt is eating you alive.” I scoff, done with his bullshit. “You need to get out of …”

Gunshots explode downstairs suddenly. The music cuts abruptly, and screaming follows. My entire body goes still, and Clark’s face drains of colour. Another burst of gunfire rips through the underground ring beneath us, and I stifle a curse.

I grab my gun from beneath the desk immediately.

Clark grabs my wrist before I can move. “Nik, wait ..”

I rip my arm away from him. “Move.”

“This could be a trap.”

“No shit.”

More screams erupt downstairs, and one of my men yells my name through the hall. “Pakhan!”

Then, gunfire tears through him. My vision blacks out for a second. I shove another gun against Clark’s chest. “Stay here.”

“I’m not staying here while people are trying to kill you.” He argues, and I snarl, “I wasn’t fucking asking.”

I storm out of the office, and chaos slams into me instantly. The hallway outside is covered in blood already. One of my soldiers lies twisted near the stairs, throat torn open, while another crawls across the floor, leaving a red trail behind him. What the fuck. The underground ring below has become a massacre. People trample each other trying to escape. The cage is splattered with blood, and music still glitches through broken speakers.

I look up, and I see them. Gunmen in black clothes and masks. I have not seen them before, and they’re definitely not Russo’s men. Russo’s men are loud and sloppy, but these move like ghosts.

One turns toward me, and I shoot him between the eyes instantly. Immediately, another appears near the bar.

I grab one of my men by the shoulder, shove him down before the bullet meant for him tears through the wall behind us.

“Left side!” I bark.

Gunfire erupts again, and the room becomes hell. My men fight hard, but these bastards are trained. They’re clearing rooms too fast. One of them throws a knife straight into Pavel’s throat. I’ve not seen fighters like this in years. Fuck.

“Push them back!” I roar, my heart slamming hard.

I vault over the bar and shoot twice.

Then I see one of the assassins heading toward the office hallway, toward Clark. Rage detonates inside me. I shoot the bastard in the spine before he reaches the door. I stalk forward and empty the rest of the clip into his skull.

Three more gunmen enter through the back staircase. They’re fucking professionals. This was planned. I fire immediately, dropping one to the ground. I move forward carefully, blood dripping down my arm from somewhere I don’t remember getting hit. The club strobes red from the emergency lights now.

There are bodies everywhere. My club, and my fucking men. The assassin behind the pillar suddenly rushes out. I shoot him in the throat.

The last one appears, and Clark walks out of the office. My heart fucking stops. “What are you doing?” I roar.

He looks worried, “Are you okay?”

Movement flashes behind him. I see the shot before it happens, and roar, “CLARK!” 

I move fast, but not fast enough. One of my soldiers slams into Clark first. Mikhail. The bullet tears through his chest instead, and blood explodes everywhere.

Clark stumbles backwards in shock as Mikhail collapses hard onto the floor.

No.

No fucking way.

Something inside me snaps completely. I shoot the assassin once, thrice, then I’m on him. I grab him by the throat and slam him into the wall so hard his skull cracks.

Mikhail is choking behind me. Clark drops beside him instantly, pressing his hands against the wound. “Fuck, fuck, stay with me.”

“There’s too much blood,” one of my men mutters.

Mikhail looks at me instead of Clark, always loyal, even now. “S-sorry,” he chokes out.

My chest caves inward. He took the bullet meant for me. Clark distracted me. He walked out when I told him to stay hidden.

Mikhail goes still, and the entire club falls strangely quiet after that.

I look at his body, then glance around at the ruin that my home has turned into.

This wasn’t just Russo. Russo doesn’t have the manpower or resources for skilled men like this. The assassins hadn’t been here to kill only me. They came here with a mission, and now, half of my men lie on the ground, dead.

I inhale slowly, vaguely aware of the blood dripping down my arm.

One thing is clear – they just declared war, and I’ll burn it all to the ground.