I’d just convinced her that her job was safe. But the question remained: What if Karik chose to fire both of them? Would he listen to me if I told him not to?
However, he wasn’t actually going to fire them over this. Right?
Chapter 20 – Karik
I sat on a sofa, legs crossed, fingers drumming against the armrest. My gaze was fixed on the front door with a flat expression on my face. The dark room offered the kind of silence that calmed my mind, creating the perfect atmosphere for my plan.
He’d be home any moment from now, and I’d be here when he did, waiting patiently. His name was Igor Yevgeny, a high-ranking Bratva officer and also a traitor. He didn’t know this, but I was on to him; I’d been on to him for about a month now.
The bastard had been secretly selling sensitive Bratva information to the Sokolov Syndicate. He thought he was smart. He thought he was careful enough not to draw attention to himself. But he got sloppy, and my lieutenant, Sergei, caught a whiff of his treachery.
I told myself that I was only here on an official Bratva assignment. But deep down, it was more than that. The real reason I was at his place wasn’t to confront him about his treachery. It was to settle a personal score.
Yesterday, during a Bratva meeting, he made derogatory remarks about my wife. He called her unfit to bear the Tarasov name because, in his view, she had nothing to offer the organization.
Igor had gone ahead and accused me of being selfish, saying I married my prisoner for my own personal interest. The bastard didn’t stop there. No. He called her a whore. He calledmyEllie a whore in front of everyone present.
I didn’t react. Didn’t even say a word to him. The fool must’ve thought that he got off easy. He was wrong.
My fingers slowly clenched into fists on both hands as I imagined the different ways to make him suffer. I wasn’t herebecause he was a traitor. I was here because he insulted my wife. It was fuckin’ personal.
The front door opened, and two sets of footsteps stumbled into the dark room. One was the scuffing of shoes, and the other was the clicking of heels.
A woman’s soft giggles filled the air, accompanied by a familiar voice, thick with the Russian Accent. “Ohh, I’m going to destroy you tonight.”
It was him. Igor Yevgeny.
I remained on the sofa, silent and unmoving as I watched their figures move in the shadows.
“It’s dark in here,” the woman said amidst chuckles. “I wanna see your face when I make you come.”
“Oooh, sexy!” the bastard replied, his tone laced with excitement. “I like how you’re thinking.”
Barely three seconds later, the lights came on, the chandelier’s warm glow illuminating the room. The woman was already on the bed with her legs spread apart when she spotted me at a corner.
She screamed, eyes wide with fear, as she sprang to her feet.
“Oh, fuck!” Igor exclaimed upon seeing me. “What’re you—how did you get in here?!” He bent over to pull up his pants.
Silence.
“I’m calling security.” He rushed over to the table and grabbed the telephone, only to realize the line was dead.
My men had already cut the hotel signal. They had the place surrounded, and his men were either dead or tied up somewhere. The asshole was alone with no backup.
He swallowed hard, finally grasping the gravity of his situation. A hint of terror flashed in his eyes as he lowered the phone, his gaze locked on mine.
“Leave,” I said to the woman without looking in her direction.
She wasted no time, heels clicking frantically against the floor.
“What do you want with me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.
I paused, disgusted by his cowardice, by his inability to speak as confidently as he did during the meeting yesterday.
“Sit down.”
He swallowed. Harder this time.
