37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Aleksandr

The night was alive with thunder, a fitting backdrop for the storm that brewed inside me. I could feel the tension thickening the air as I stood outside the secluded warehouse in Brooklyn. I pushed all thoughts of Talia to the back of my mind to stay one hundred percent focused. Nothing was going to stop me from killing Vic tonight.

My vors were positioned around the warehouse's perimeter, their weapons ready. Dimitri and Anton flanked me as we moved silently into position. Inside, Vic and his men were blissfully unaware of the fate about to befall them. Tonight, justice would be served.

I checked my gun, the cold metal reassuring in my grip. The plan was simple: strike fast, strike hard, and leave no one standing. We had the element of surprise, and under the cover of the storm, we would be ghosts in the night. I glanced at Anton, waiting for his signal. His eyes met mine, and we were of one mind at that moment. There was no room for doubt or hesitation.

Anton raised his hand, the signal to move. We advanced silently, a deadly wave of retribution. The rain began to fall in earnest, masking our footsteps as we approached the entrance. I could feel my heart pounding from anticipating what was to come.

Ivan cut the lock on the side door of the warehouse, affording us a way in. One by one we, slipped inside, fanning out and taking cover behind piles of wooden crates. When the last of my vors was safely inside the warehouse, the first shot rang out like a clap of thunder. Dimitri, his aim unerring, took out the guard at the main door. The rest of us surged forward. Chaos immediately erupted.

The warehouse's interior was dark, the shadows playing tricks on my eyes. Men shouted, guns fired, and the metallic scent of blood mingled with the musty air. I moved through the melee purposefully, my gun finding targets with practiced ease. Each pull of the trigger was a step closer to vengeance.

I saw Vic across the room, his face contorted in shock and rage. The man to his right spotted me, our eyes locking. He raised his gun, but I was faster. My shot took him in the shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the ground.

I advanced, stepping over the bodies of the fallen. In my peripheral vision, I saw movement to my left. Before I could react, a burly man jumped out from behind a crate, wielding a large knife. He snarled, pulling his arm back to swing. As the blade swept toward me, I instinctively jumped back, but not fast enough. The tip of the razor-sharp blade sliced across my chest. Searing pain flashed behind my eyes, dropping me to my knee.

Raising my gun, I squeezed the trigger, the bullet lodging in the man's chest. His eyes widened in disbelief, then glazed over as he crumpled to the ground. I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep through my fingers. The pain was a dull roar, but I couldn't stop now.

Shots rang out, sharp and sudden. Bullets whizzed past me, some too close for comfort. I ducked behind a stack of crates, firing at the shadows that moved in the gloom. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

"Vic!" I shouted, my voice raw. "Come out and face me!"

A fleeting shadow at the far end of the warehouse caught my eye. Vic. He was running, slipping through a side door. I ignored the searing burn in my chest and gave chase. By the time I reached the door, he was gone, swallowed by the storm outside.

I staggered back inside, breathing hard. Silence fell, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. Dimitri and Anton were already securing the warehouse. The floor was littered with bodies, the aftermath of our deadly encounter. The battle had been won, but the war was not over.

Dimitri looked up, his eyes cold but approving. "Vic?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Gone," I spat, anger and frustration boiling within me. "But he won't get far."

Dimitri nodded, pulling out his phone. "I'll call the cleaning crew. We can't leave any traces."

I leaned against a crate, the adrenaline starting to fade. The pain in my chest became more insistent. Anton appeared at my side, his usually impassive face showing a flicker of concern.

"You're hurt."

"Just a scratch," I lied.

The cleaning crew arrived swiftly, professionals in their own right. They moved through the warehouse efficiently, erasing the signs of our violent encounter. I watched them work, and my mind was already plotting our next move. Vic had slipped through our fingers, but this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

As the storm raged on outside, I vowed to myself that I would hunt Vic to the ends of the Earth if I had to. This was just the beginning. The thunder roared its approval, echoing the fury in my heart.