Page 4 of Betrayal and Vows

Have I not proven myself a hundred times? Maybe it’s more than a hundred. I don’t know. Unlike other assassins, I don’t keep count. My body count doesn’t matter. One dead man is the same as the next. Knowing how many men I’ve killed doesn’t make me a big man. It doesn’t make me scarier or more dangerous. If I can take out one, I can take out a hundred.

If Dmitri doesn’t hurry the fuck up, I’m just going to take care of this. He can explain to Yuri why I handled the job on my own.

No. I can’t do that. I won’t put Dmitri at risk.

A shadow peels off from the corner to my right. I don’t react. I recognize the outline of my best friend. The one man on this planet whoknowsme. He’s tall, broad, and grinning like we’re about to play poker instead of commit murder.

“Anton,” Dmitri says, tossing a piece of gum into his mouth. “You miss me?”

“I miss silence,” I mutter.

He claps a hand on my shoulder, hyped up like we’re heading to a soccer match. “You need me tonight. Gonna be a fun one.”

“I don’t need a sidekick.”

He snorts. “Don’t call me a sidekick. I’m not Robin to your Batman.”

“No,” I say, stepping forward into the darkness. “Robin’s useful.”

“Brat.” But he follows anyway, low and quiet now that we’re closer.

I don’t have to explain the plan. There is no plan. We go in and handle the situation. That’s the benefit of being ruthless Bratva soldiers. No conscience. No thoughts about the reasons or backstories. A hit is a hit. If we fail, we die.

That's it. That's the whole thing. Simple.

I've been shot three times. Stabbed twice. Had my ribs broken with a crowbar while tied to a chair in some basement that smelled like piss and motor oil. The scars on my back tell stories I don't share with anyone, not even Dmitri. Pain… pain is just a reminder I’m alive. Without that reminder I don’t think I would know I was alive because on the inside—I’m dead.

Dmitri, despite his size, is silent as a ghost as we split up. They’ll never see us coming. They’ll feel no fear until my blade is slicing across their throat.

I move through this world like a ghost, untouchable and untouched. Every beating, every bullet, every blade just proved what I already knew—I'm not built like other men. I'm built to endure. Built to survive. Built to kill.

The warehouse looms ahead, and I feel nothing. No adrenaline spike. No quickened pulse. Just the mental mapping of where bodies will fall. This is what I am. This is what they made me.

I don't give a fuck about the men inside. I don't give a fuck about their families or their reasons or their last words. I don't give a fuck about the politics or whatever territorial bullshit this is about. I don't even give a fuck about the money.

I just do the job. I always do the job.

Death doesn't scare me because I've been dead inside for so long I can't remember what it felt like to be alive.

We take out the guards first. Neither man even drops his phone. Dmitri looks at me and nods once. I slip my knife into the sheath strapped to my leg. I pull the gun and return the nod. He pulls open the door with me at his back, my hand on his shoulder and my other holding my gun.

We hear men talking deeper inside. I don’t care what they’re saying. It’s not my job to spy. I pat Dmitri’s shoulder twice and slide into the shadows to his left. We’ll flank and fire.

And then I hear a man sobbing. And then he’s screaming. Is he one of ours? Yuri didn’t say this was a rescue. I inwardly sigh and wonder if we’re taking out one of our own.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Anyone that talked was a traitor. I knew the warehouse was enemy territory. Someone was likely dumb enough to get caught.Durak.My lips curl with disgust.

I step behind crates and see my target. There are four men standing around. I know them. The enemy. But it’s the man tied to a chair that confuses me. He’s not one of ours. He’s naked except for his white underwear that is stained with blood. Blood stains his chest and thighs. Clearly, he’s pissed someone off.

I quickly dismiss the thought.Not my problem.

There are three men closest to me. I almost smile. That’s going to piss Dmitri off. I get three and he gets one. Maybe I’ll let him kill the guy in the chair to even things out. I pause, silently counting to three and then I take the first shot. I don’t hesitate when the first man drops. I take out the second. I hear the shot from Dmitri’s gun and the third man falls.

And of course, that gives the fourth the few seconds needed to pull his gun and shoot in my general direction. I aim but before I can pull the trigger, his face explodes.

Dmitri steps out from the shadows with a grin on his face. “You’re greedy,” he says to me.