Erik chuckles. “Meet Ollie. Our very own tech whiz.”
Ollie nods shyly, gripping his laptop like a shield. “Hi.”
Dimitri smirks, clearly amused. “Didn’t know you had a nerd in your pocket, Erik.”
Ignoring Dimitri, Erik nudges Ollie forward. “Show them.”
With a few rapid clicks, Ollie brings up a live feed on his laptop. The footage shows the interior of what looks like a warehouse. I can hear muffled voices, the echoey sound of plans being made.
Erik leans in close, whispering, “Got a few bugs placed inside. Money makes people sing, my friends.”
Ollie cranks up the volume, and the noises from the warehouse become crisper. The video is slightly grainy but clear enough to provide an idea of what’s going on. I examine the inside of the rundown warehouse. The ceiling is high, and most of the place is dim, with a few bulbs lighting up specific areas.
The first thing that catches my attention is the descent – a staircase that leads to a subterranean level. The footage shifts as one of the bugs seems to be planted lower. Now, the view reveals Aleks’s real arsenal. Walls mounted with weapons, machine guns, pistols, and rifles, all organized with military precision. It’s like stumbling upon a lion’s den, only instead of teeth and claws, there’s cold steel. There’s a corner with monitors showcasing live feeds from various locations. A makeshift command center.
Then, Aleks’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the warehouse, the sneer in his tone unmistakable. “We kill them all,” he growls.
“Yes,Pakhan!” a chorus of voices respond, enthusiasm oozing from them. The men gathered around Aleks murmur in agreement.
A tall, brutish thug with a scar tracing down his cheek speaks up, “Everything’s in place,Pakhan. The Ivankovs won’t know what hit them.”
Aleks sneers, looking around his assembled group. “You know the best time to strike, don’t you?”
One of the men chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “During their precious party,Pakhan?”
Aleks’s lips stretch into a malicious grin. “Precisely. We’ll shower them with bullets instead of confetti. Killing the Ivankovs is going to be my play time.”
Fucking idiots.
Erik snorts softly beside me, a look of derision clear on his face.
“Big talk,” he murmurs, so only I can hear.
Another stooge, with a nervous twitch in his eye, steps forward. “Pakhan, the other warehouse…it’s been torched. They got the girl and that punk out, too.”
Aleks laughs, the sound echoing in the chilly warehouse. “Let ‘em think they’re winning. Makes it all the sweeter when we come out on top.”
The scarred muscle adds, “For our guys they took out, we’ll make the Ivankovs pay.”
Aleks leans in, cold fury in his eyes. “I’ll personally put a round in each of their heads, just like I did with their last patheticpakhan.”
My blood boils. This piece of shit is talking about my father.
A deeper, gravelly voice cuts in, probably the big thug I’ve had the displeasure of meeting before. “Once everything’s in place, Katerina will signal. Then we hit them hard and fast.”
Dimitri’s grip on the table tightens, his face an unreadable mask, but I can sense the storm brewing inside him.
Aleks’s laugh grates on my nerves. “Strike at the heart, and the rest will crumble.”
Fucking traitors, the lot of them.
That disgusting piece of shit, Aleks, scheming to butcher everyone at Yulia’s birthday celebration. His own niece, damn him. His unquenchable thirst for control, his perverted craving for domination, his utter void of morals – he’s no better than a rabid animal, and even that’s giving him too much credit.
My gaze locks on Ollie. “Keep monitoring that feed. If anything significant comes up, get Erik on it. Don’t miss a beat, alright?”
Ollie adjusts his glasses nervously, eyes darting between the screen and me. “Y-yes, sir. I got it. I’ll, um, keep tabs on every pixel.”
Erik gives Ollie an encouraging pat on the shoulder, clearly understanding the weight the tech whiz is shouldering.
