Page 90 of The Masked King

I’m confident that the Bratva hasn’t got their hands on him; Malevsky would’ve gotten too much joy from that snippet of information to keep it to himself. So, wherever he is, he has good reason for flying under the radar.

I’m pissed at Bianca for leaving Meggie and the kids, but I’ll deal with that later.

Right now, I need weapons, and then I’m going to prove to Demi that I meant it when I said I would die for her.

Luis calls in favors around the city and turns Megan and Gio’s apartment into New York’s equivalent of Fort Knox.

Backup would’ve been a bonus, but I think I always knew that it would end this way, right from the first moment I set eyes on Demi. I would’ve liked a second chance, time to prove to her that I could meet her in the middle and do things her way, hell I would meet her in a fucking crypt with corpses for company if it would make her happy. Now, the best I can hope for is that I get to tell her in person that dying for her is a privilege.

Either way, I’m taking Malevsky down with me.

I’m half-expecting to find Gio at our armory in an abandoned hangar outside of town. When he isn’t there, I run a quick inventory, hoping that he’s prepared, but nothing appears to be missing either.

I take as much as I can carry without drawing attention to myself. There isn’t a taxi driver in the city who will pick me up kitted out with a machine gun and explosives, but there are plenty of smaller weapons that I can conceal inside my clothes and socks.

I’m not afraid.

Walking out of the armory with the weight of my weapons of choice keeping me grounded, I feel more serene than I have since Demi left me. This is the life that the Sabatellis are born into, and I never once considered trying to fight it.

Even so, my footsteps are a little lighter, when a car carrying Luis and a small security team careens across the tarmac surrounding the hangar, tires squealing as it halts in front of me.

I climb into the passenger seat. “Megan and the kids?”

“Covered.”

I nod. They’ve done what I asked. The rest is down to me. I give Luis the address of the burnt-out property. “They have Demi. Whatever happens, we keep her alive, and Malevsky is mine.”

We don’t speak in the car.

Luis parks the vehicle some distance from the derelict building so we can approach on foot and scope out the enemy before barging in there.

No vehicles are parked outside, but the tire tracks on the gravel driveway leading up to the entrance means that Malevsky brought an army. Maybe he has forgotten that I know the layout of the building too.

“Movement in the lower windows,” Luis says.

“They won’t risk hiding upstairs.”

I don’t add that Malevsky is no doubt confident that we won’t get that far, but whoever built the house at the beginning of the last century, having probably never heard of the Bratva, had more traditional ideas about security. They planted oak trees around both sides of the building to provide shade at various times of the day, and those acorns have grown into giants.

Giants that will get us inside the house while the bratva guard the regular entry points.

“Their weakness is our advantage. How are your tree-climbing skills?”

“I’m surprised you need to ask,” one says. “Do we have a plan?”

“Plans are for the Bratva. All we need is a hostage.” I have a vague notion of how this might go, but it won’t solidify into something I can work with until I know what we’re up against.

We split into two small groups, Luis and I head left, and the other three guards make their way to the right. I could kiss the original homeowners for leaving nature to take its course. The trees are so dense, the heavy branches keep us in shadow as we ascend, sticking close to the trunk. Once we’re level with the upper story windows, all we need to do is choose a branch strong enough to get us to the house, and from there, we can lower ourselves inside through the vacant window frames.

The bedrooms on the upper level are charred, the walls blackened, the furnishings singed and left to rot, but the bulk of the damage was caused by smoke rather than flames. However it managed to spread, it either burned out before it reached these rooms, or the fire department got here in time to salvage what they could.

We enter with our guns held at chest height. Through the first room, the door is ajar, and we’re able to peek out into the dingy landing. The house is silent.

Too fucking silent.

Bianca and Gio both confirmed that the Bratva is operating quietly, but that’s behind the scenes. Doesn’t mean they’ll exact their revenge with the same level of hushed dignity, even if they intend to tarnish Gio’s name with the sick Malevsky brush once this is over.

I gesture for Luis to cover me as I step outside the first bedroom.