The thought bothers me on a deep level, sending little spiders of uncertainty crawling along my spine. Is this really how I want to run my empire? Are these the kinds of men I want to surround myself with?
“Worthless,” I mutter, nudging Marat’s dead body with my boot.
“Not entirely.” Daniel sounds chipper as he tosses a wad of cash to one of his soldiers. He’s grinning. “What do you say we give the boys a bonus.”
I eye the money grimly before nodding once. “Split it up evenly. Make sure everyone gets a taste.”
“Hail Pakhan Gabriel!” one soldier shouts and the others take up a chorus.
I don’t bask in the glow. Their loyalty isn’t to me.
It’s to the big pile of cash I threw in their laps.
I leave them to divvy up the loot. Back in the main soundstage, I stand alone facing the beat-up fake prison. Bodies are scattered around me as more of my soldiers walk past. Team2 and Team3 hurry to get a piece of the treasure. I quietly accept their praise, my mind roaming elsewhere, thinking back to Aslan’s bloated face.
This is what leadership means. There are always scum in the world. A thousand little Marats are willing to do anything for money. That’s why relationships are all transactions. They’re all built on a floor of needs and wants, of prizes given and blood spilled. Not a single man in this place would save my life unless it benefited him in some way, and until right now, I’ve been okay with that.
Except I’m starting to wonder. How far can that get me? At what point does their loyalty get too expensive? If money is the motivation, there will always be a line they won’t cross. There needs to be something more, something stronger and deeper, and for a long time I always thought that wasn’t possible.
Now I’m starting to think I was wrong.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t answer, but there’s no danger here. I pick it up and myheart stutters when I realize it’s the lead of the security team I left behind at the motel.
“Pakhan, it’s Ilya—“ There’s yelling in the background. The crack of rifle fire strafes nearby. He curses in Russian as my heart rate spikes and adrenaline floods my system all over again. “Sir, the motel—We’re holding them back, but?—“
“My wife!” I sling my rifle over my shoulder. “Where is my wife!?”
“We’re under attack sir, we’re trying to get her out?—“
More gunfire, more cursing, and the line goes dead.
The room looks red. I feel my heart about to rip through my chest.
“Daniel!” I scream, sprinting for the exit. “It’s Nika, we have to go! We have to run!”
I don’t know if they’re following. I can’t slow down. I can’t stop.
There has to be something bigger than money and power, and I can’t risk losing it, not when I’ve only gotten my first taste.
CHAPTER 17
NIKA
Idon’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like Gabe’s never gone off on some mission before.
It’s just that this time I know what’s at stake.
He might not come back.
And if Gabe dies, that means I’m free from this nightmare. I won’t be worth anything to his enemies anymore. I’ll be able to take my money and disappear.
That should be a good thing, right?
Except the idea makes me sick. It’s like I caught a glimpse of the person hiding behind that brutal mask. He showed me a piece of himself, and in return, I gave him a piece of me. That night was incredible, feeling him inside of me, tasting him, coming apart for him, and now I’m terrified I won’t get to experience that again. It’s hell, pacing around this crappy motel room, imagining all the terrible ways he might die out there, leaving me broken and alone all over again.
All my life, I’ve been so small. My father’s men muscled their way into my world and jammed me down into a tiny box. They kept me caged, even if I couldn’t see the bars right in front of my face. I thought tiny thoughts, dreamed tiny dreams, and kept telling myself that was the best I could ever do.
Keep meek. Keep docile. Otherwise, they might do something dangerous.
