40. Chapter 40

40

Leonid

P izda. The bitch has me cornered, and she knows it.

I press my palms flat against the table, the smooth surface cool under my skin. My eyes burn into Fiona.

“So, what the fuck do you want me to do now?” My voice crackles with fury—like a fucking blade pressed to a throat.

She thinks she’s won? That she can toy with me like some fucking puppet? When this is done, she’ll be nothing but a bloated corpse floating in the sea.

Her lips curl upward, her mole twitching with the motion. “Leonid, dear,” she begins.

I don’t answer; just tilt my head slightly… enough to let her know I’m not in the mood for her games.

“There’s a deal I need brokered. Something delicate. Something requiring your… particular set of skills,” she says, her voice turning coy. “I need you to fly to Zermatt.”

“Zermatt?” The name grates on my nerves, “What’s in Courchevel that requires me?”

“Oh, let’s call it an opportunity.” Her smirk deepens, “An arrangement that could benefit all of us—if handled correctly.”

“And if I refuse?”

Her laugh is soft, barely a breath, but it cuts like glass. “I already told you. Refuse, and your precious gold might find itself… misplaced. Or worse, diluted. A little mix of base metals, a touch of carelessness—it would be such a shame, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes glitter as she delivers the threat.

Bitch.

“And you need this handled now?”

“Tonight.” She clasps her hands together like it’s a done deal. “You can take my private plane. It’s already fueled and waiting.”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “No need. I have my own.”

Her lips twitch in annoyance before she recovers. “Of course you do, darling. Well, I’m sure you’ll make the most of it. I’m positively thrilled to see how this plays out.”

She stands, smoothing the fabric of her glittering gown, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a gala waiting, and oh, so many people to meet. Do try to keep things… civil while I’m gone.”

Her laughter echoes as she exits, her bodyguards following like shadows.

Ludis and I remain seated. Finally, he stands, slow and deliberate. My fingers twitch toward my side, the comforting presence of my gun calling to me as he steps closer.

“Relax, brother.” He approaches, his steps lazy, “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then keep your distance,” I spit. My hand hovers near my hip, but Ludis just smirks. He stops just shy of invading my space, his head tilting slightly as if examining me for cracks.

“And, brat —” he says; his hand lands on my shoulder.

“I said fuck off.” I shift my shoulders, brushing him off, but he doesn’t back away. Instead, his hand lands on me; he brushes off invisible lint like this is his space to claim. His thumb and forefinger tug at my collar, as though he hasn’t been one misstep away from death since the moment he walked in.

“Speaking of which—” he starts, his grip lingering just long enough to make it personal. His fingers smooth a wrinkle from my jacket like we’re brothers sharing an inside joke. “Do look after your little fighter. Two of my men are still in intensive care because of her— Clara Caldwell.”

The name detonates between us, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not the kind he wants.

My body moves before the thought is finished. A step forward. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. My hand comes down on his, clamping it to my shoulder like a trap. I lean in, my face an inch from his.

“ Idi na hui ,” I spit out the words like a curse, each syllable laced with venom. “Touch a hair on her head, and I’ll gut you like a fucking pig. You won’t need intensive care; you’ll need a goddamn body bag.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, his muscles shifting like he’s deciding whether to shove back or yield. He settles on the latter, his body going slack just enough to loosen my hold. Ludis steps back slowly, pulling his wrist free.

“You found a fun toy. ” His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “One that I’d like to play with.”

Suka blyad’. I’m halfway toward him when his guards materialize. Two mountains of muscle and Kevlar between us.

“Good luck in Zermatt,” he says.

Blyat. I feel a vein throbbing in my neck like a goddamn drumbeat, fueled by the need to tear his throat out.

Fiona’s voice drips honey from the stage, her words lost under the pounding in my skull. The crystal chandeliers throw shadows across faces I want to break, the evening crowd pressing in like cattle waiting for slaughter.

I spot them at the bar— The mudak Maksim slouched against polished mahogany like he’s at a fucking beach resort, Dmitry rigid beside him, eyes scanning the crowd. Neither looks like they’ve spent the last two hours wondering if their boss was walking into an ambush.

The crowd parts for me. Smart fucking move.

“Having fun?” I stop inches from Maksim, close enough to smell the untouched whiskey in his glass.

He lifts his chin in greeting. “Boss. Still breathing, I see.”

My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around the glass. It shatters against the bar, whiskey and blood mixing on marble. The nearby chatter dies.

“Still breathing?” The words taste like ash. “That’s what you have to say after leaving me alone with that suka and my brother?”

“Ludis was here?” Maksim quirks an eyebrow. Dmitry shifts his weight. Good. At least one of them remembers what fear feels like.

“Sorry, boss, we thought… The orders were clear.” Maksim leans closer, voice dropping below Fiona’s ongoing speech. “Her people said you were checking the gold shipment. Together.”

“Checking the—” A laugh tears from my throat, sharp enough to draw looks. “And you believed that bullshit?”

“Didn’t have much choice.” His eyes flick to the balcony where three of Fiona’s men stand watch. “They insisted. Strongly.”

Dmitry clears his throat. “Boss, we stayed close—”

“Close?” I turn on him, watching him swallow. “Close enough to hear her threaten to melt down fifty billion in pure Swiss gold? Close enough to watch my brother plan my execution?”

The muscle in Dmitry’s jaw jumps. At least he has the decency to look ashamed.

“Get the plane ready.” I grab Maksim’s collar, yanking him closer. “And next time someone tells you to stay put while I walk into a trap? Shoot them.”

His lips twitch. “Any preference on where?”

“Surprise me.” I release him, straightening his jacket with more force than necessary. “Wheels up in thirty. We’re going to fucking Switzerland.”

“Zermatt?” Dmitry’s eyebrows rise. “In the middle of—”

“Are your ears as useless as your brain, or is this intentional stupidity?”

From the stage, Fiona’s laughter rings out like breaking glass. I turn toward the exit, my men falling in step behind me.

“Oh, and Maksim?”

“Boss?”

“You’re buying me a new bottle of whiskey. The expensive kind.”

His quiet chuckle follows me out. “Consider it hazard pay.”