The sound echoes in the empty space then fades to nothing. Just me, the corpse, and the smell of gunpowder mixing with the Vegas heat seeping through the walls.
My phone buzzes. Adrik.
"Da?"
"Tell me you got something." My brother's voice is tight with the kind of controlled fury that means he's been dealing with the fucking Albanians all day. Or the city council. Or both.
"He didn't talk." I step over the body, heading for the industrial sink in the corner. There’s blood on my hands, my shirt. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. "But I know where they're moving product tonight. I'll have eyes on it."
"How many of our girls are still missing?"
"Two that we know of from our place." I scrub my hands clean, watching pink-tinged water spiral down the drain. "Macy and Faith. Both cocktail waitresses. Both last seen leaving the casino alone after their shifts."
"And the other girl? The one from the other casino? And the ones before that?"
"Same pattern. I think Zajmi's expanding. Testing how far he can push before we push back."
"Then push back." Adrik's tone is flat, final. "I want him to know what happens when he hunts in our territory. Make it clear."
"I always do."
I hang up and finish cleaning up, stripping off my shirt and tossing it towards the dead man. The Albanian's body will disappear by morning, my guys know the drill. Out in the desert, far enough that the coyotes and vultures do most of the work. Nothing left to find.
That's why they call me the Wolf.
Not just because I hunt. Because I'm thorough.
By the time I leave the warehouse, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I grab a shirt from the trunk and shrug it on while I watch the darkness of the night consume the Strip in the distance. That’s how Las Vegas comes to life, with neon flashes of light and an undercurrent of sin.
People have no idea what happens in the spaces between the lights.
My phone buzzes again. Kaiden, one of my best men.
"Boss, we got movement on the Albanian’s outside the club. Two cars just pulled up, looks like they're loading something."
"Girls?"
"Can't tell from here. Could be product, could be people. You want us to move?"
"They’ve proven to not be all that stupid…they’ll make you within a couple of blocks. Is there any way you can get a tracking device onto the vehicles?"
"No."
"Fuck. I’m on my way to you." I hang up.
The Albanians have been operating in Vegas for three months now. Small at first, just muscle for hire, doing enforcement work for the cartels. Then they started branching out. Girls went missing. Not enough to make headlines, but enough that casino management started whispering. Enough that Adrik noticed when two of ours disappeared.
Enough that it became my problem.
I don't mind. Hunting is what I'm good at.
Another buzz. This time it's a text from Luka, my second, with a photo attached: security footage from the Korolyov Casino, timestamped thirty minutes ago.
A blonde woman walking through the casino floor like she knows exactly where she is going. Disappearing behind the cashier cage. Then another shot of her in the hallway, heading toward the casino managers office. And another of her leaving, something pressed into her hand by one of the cocktail waitresses.
I zoom in on her face. Pretty. Very pretty. Sharp cheekbones, determined mouth, eyes that look like they haven't slept in days. She's wearing jeans and a jacket despite the heat, and there's something about the way she holds herself, all tense and coiled, ready to either fight or run.
I text him back:Find out who this is and what she wants.
