Page 68
I make mental notes of all the small changes he’s made in the booby-trapped entrances into the underground world of his school. I’ll update the team so they’re aware before they enter. I’ve already confirmed they’re in place and have been watching from a careful distance for the past few days, sharing updates on the comings and goings, undetected.
Though that probably has more to do with the state-of-the-art equipment I’ve given them. Can’t have anyone knowing now, can I?
No mistakes. Ever. Especially not now.
When I get past the final trap, I walk through the large metal door, hit with the sounds I’ve become desensitized to after so long.
The screams. Begging, wailing. Even a few moments of final breaths. I barely glance at the body falling next to me, head still dangling from the ropes above where they were decapitated. Another soul deemed too weak.
No one approaches me; my dagger strapped to my side is plenty to give away who and what I am. Why they should never approach me. Not unless they’d like to end up exactly like the decapitated body behind me.
My reputation precedes me, and I plan to keep it that way.
The underground school stretches for miles in every direction. Torture rooms, sparring rooms, a running track with a killer obstacle course—pun intended—and everything in between. The barracks for the students are along the back walls while the men who run this place for the Butcher sleep in the cushioned rooms in the corridors behind heavily guarded doors.
Can’t risk having the students kill their masters, can they?
I already know the Butcher will be there, meeting with those he’s handpicked to go with him to California. I approach the guards manning the door. They step aside, and I enter my code and biometrics to be let in.
The other side of the door is a whole other world. Full of opulence and a relaxed atmosphere born of self-assured safety. So confident none of their own would dare turn on them. Not here, certainly.
Long hallways are decorated with some of the world’s greatest artworks and expensive wallpapers, antique furniture, fancy dishware, and the looks of a whole mansion underground. Each wing leads to a different group of people, depending on the Butcher’s preference. The assassins who have earned their places are here in the east wing, closest to the Butcher’s northern wing to ensure his safety in case of a breach. The south wing has offices, eating areas, and conference-type rooms. Finally, the west wing is for the Butcher’s men. The ones who help him run this place.
I can’t wait to burn it all to the ground with all of them trapped inside. It might not be the justice I want to inflict, and too quick a death than they deserve, but I want the assurance they never come back. That they will get to have the first taste of their eternal resting place.
I head to the conference room, where I know they’re waiting for me. Uncaring, I stroll inside, ignoring the glares sent my way.
Oh, did I mention how much the other assassins in this place hate me? Probably because I’m so much better than them, and they know they’ll never gain the freedom I have.
Well, as much as this entire situation counts as freedom.
The first face I see is the Butcher, Pasha Antonov, sitting at the head of his long conference table, surrounded by his men like a general with his lieutenants. Hell, they even have a giant world map behind them, with pins marking the places where they have assassin plants.
There is no tech in this room. Nothing that will ever have a digital footprint or be traced back to them.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” he states, pinning me with an icy stare.
I shrug, leaning back against the wall by the door. The room is full of other assassins, all glaring at me, but I ignore them. Most of them are green, a nervous energy moving from them.
These are the ones who are good and might make something of themselves but will need to prove themselves in this mission. Every single one of them will wind up dead before this is over.
“You gave me an assignment, I took care of it, and now I’m here,” I state.
His eyes narrow, but my disrespect won’t go unpunished. Or so he thinks. He can’t risk any damage to me yet, with this mission needing to be completed. I show him the slightest smirk, and the fury in his eyes burns.
He barks, “You will be the lead on this mission. There will be no mistakes.” He looks around the room. “This is the only mission that matters, and you will win or you will die. Once this succeeds, we will have positions of power throughout the entire West Coast of America. From there, we will ensure our own people are placed in each family in the United States. Our footing will be strong and sure.”
I barely manage not to roll my eyes. Could the man get any cheesier?
“Timur Belov will put a man of our choosing into place once his son is dead and he is ready to retire. We will ensure that whoever we put there is absolutely loyal to us,” he continues. He looks at his lieutenants. “And you will ensure our students are ready. Anyone showing mistakes or weakness, get rid of them.”
“The latest crop is showing little promise,” his right-hand man, Renat, sneers. “I’ve already killed half of them, and they’ve only just begun. Perhaps one boy has the smarts, but he’s not getting there fast enough for my liking.” He glances at the man next to him, Ruslan. “You’re going to have to break him completely before he will fall in line.”
Ruslan gives a cool, anticipatory smile. It’s no secret he’s one of the men who has a taste for young boys, and he takes great pleasure in breaking every single one of them. I want to throw my dagger into this neck, but resist. For now. “Gladly. Let me know when.” He licks his lips, and I have the mental vision of cutting his tongue off and stuffing it down his throat to make him choke.
Every single one of these men deserves that and so much more. Some of them don’t touch the younger kids when they come in, waiting until they get older to have their turn. To fully break them.
The fury inside me, knowing how close I am to finishing it all, threatens to overwhelm me. How much I itch to just take them all out now. To ensure not one more person suffers at their hands.
