Chapter 2: Artem

"I think our database might be compromised. I've noticed a couple of glitches these past few days," Kostya said through the phone I had clasped to my ear.

A reckless driver whooshed past us in a convertible, and the voice of a blonde in the passenger seat echoed across the street. She spread out her arms in exhilaration.

Her screams and the sound of their raging car engine distracted me from my brother's words, forcing my brows to furrow in anger. They seemed to be lovebirds on some sort of wild adventure, speeding with no care for their lives. Idiots.

" Pakhan , are you still there?" Kostya's voice came through the phone.

"Yes," I replied. "You said something about glitches?"

The car drifted slowly down a street, and my right-hand man, Yuri Zaitsev, who was at the wheel, glanced in my direction for a second before looking back at the road.

I adjusted in the passenger seat and tightened my grip on my phone when I heard Kostya's response.

"It seems like someone is trying to hack our systems," he said. "They're doing a great job in their attempts, according to Donald, but our team is strong enough to resist."

I exhaled softly, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose.

As the Pakhan of the Tarasov Bratva, I had a lot of enemies, known and unknown. This was a fact. Some even disguised themselves as friends, but I wasn't stupid; I knew my allies, and I knew my foes. Years of experience had taught me that.

Despite my many enemies, I knew that this cyberattack could only be from one group in particular.

"It's the Irish," Kostya said as though reading my mind. "It's them. I'm sure."

I stole a glance at Yuri, and he nodded in affirmation as if he could hear the conversation with my brother. I wasn't surprised. One of Yuri's unique abilities was his wolf-like hearing. It was like a superpower he possessed.

Both my brother and Yuri were right in their assumptions, considering the feud between the Tarasov Bratva and the Irish mob. Those fuckers were a force to be reckoned with. Despite the number of lives wasted on both sides of this war, neither was ready to back down.

The Tarasov Bratva, regardless of how ruthless we were, never started a fight—not without good reason. As an organization, we liked to mind our business and never went looking for trouble. However, when trouble did come around, we always fought back without second thoughts.

The Irish mob, headed by Niall Donovan, a cold-blooded killer with a knack for causing trouble, was known for always leaving death and destruction in its wake. They were a pack of mindless beasts with an equally mindless leader who always saw everything as a competition to be won.

They started this fight, and it didn't matter how long they'd stretch it out; we were more than ready to see it through to the end.

Three years ago, Niall's right-hand man had crossed me; he targeted our high-profile clients and had them assassinated. I found out about what he'd done and decided to pay the bastard a visit, and they never found his body. I made sure of that because he was dinner for my hounds.

Niall had gotten word that the Tarasov Bratva was involved in the death of his right-hand man, and ever since then, we'd been at war.

"Give the order, and we'll retaliate," Kostya said.

I could tell that he was pissed and was prepared to take immediate action, but now wasn't the time. The reason I had managed to keep the Irish on their toes, frustrated and angry, was because I was usually two steps ahead every goddamn time. They never knew my next move, but I could accurately predict theirs. To beat my enemies at their own game, I had to study them like a book, learn about them, and, at the same time, maintain my calmness.

They were beasts, and if I had any chance at taming them, it was not by being as mindless as they were.

"Stand down, brother," I said.

"But they're messing with us," he retorted, trying to make me see why we should be on the offensive.

"Yes, they are," I replied. "But in battles like this, patience is a formidable weapon. It's slow but resourceful, and I intend to use it."

He sighed, coming to terms with my decision. "I trust you."

"Good," I said, ending the call.

"Your approach to the situation with the Irish is remarkable," Yuri said, shooting me a glance. "I don't think I have your kind of patience," he confessed, eyes on the road. "These bastards are like pests, and sometimes, I think we should just give them a taste of their medicine."

I scoffed. "If we do that, then we're no different from them."

"You're right," he conceded. "They're trying to hack our database because we know a lot about them, and they know virtually nothing about us." He looked at me. "They're frustrated."

"Indeed. And a frustrated man you can always trust to flop, to make a mistake." I paused for a moment, finding solace in the plan I was cooking up. "They will flop. And when they do, we'll strike them where it hurts. Niall Donovan won't know what hit him. He won't see it coming."

Yuri smoothed his blond hair backward with a smirk on the corner of his lips. "Here," he said, passing me an iPad.

I accepted it and narrowed my eyes at the image of the man on his screen. The camera had captured this gray-haired man dressed in an impeccably tailored brown overcoat as he alighted his white Mercedes Benz. A stick of Cuban cigar was hanging off his lips, and a couple of black-suited men surrounded him.

Nelson McCall: a two-faced, backstabbing politician, greedy and arrogant. Before now, I'd heard about him in the criminal underworld, and all the comments were about his pride and arrogance. His name was mud in the streets, but he didn't care because he was an elite person in society who was stupid enough to think he was untouchable.

Tonight, he was my target. One of our clients had paid a large sum for us to get him, saying they had an ax to grind with the man. The idiot had put a giant bullseye on his back and had managed to piss off a couple of very powerful people. Now, they wanted him, and I was the one they paid to get him.

"He's in a high-class nightclub a few more blocks from here," Yuri said, turning onto another street. "Our man in his security detail is on standby; he'll notify us when the coast is clear."

This was something we had that the Irish didn't: moles scattered everywhere, even in the Irish organization.

Yuri pulled over outside the club and killed the engine. "We're here." He got out of the car.

He opened the door for me while I was still taking off my seatbelt, and I stepped out. A few more cars screeched to a halt outside the building, and my men surrounded my vehicle, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Tell the men to wait for my instructions," I told Yuri, adjusting my tailored brown suit as I headed toward the entrance.

The bouncers outside cleared the path, forcing everyone out of my way; two of those bouncers were secretly working for me. Like I said, I had people everywhere.

I walked into the club and was welcomed by the raving music booming across the crowded space as folks danced to the DJ's lively beats. Beams of colored lights crisscrossed the hall, enveloping everything and everyone.

"Keep an eye out; he could be anywhere," I said to Yuri, who had just materialized beside me.

He nodded and left, mingling with the crowd.

I tucked my hand in my pocket and had barely taken two steps forward when I saw her: the most beautiful woman I'd seen all week.

She was standing alone in a corner, her red dress immediately grabbing my attention as it revealed her curves and perfectly molded her body. Although she was slightly moving to the rhythm of the beat, I could tell that she seemed out of place, like she wasn't really in sync with the environment. But she was so hot, graceful, and quite sexy.

My eyes were glued to her, and I couldn't bring myself to rip my gaze away. She had a pretty smile on her innocent face, and her green eyes shimmered in the lights, as did her dark hair.

I felt my heart skip a beat, and I swallowed at how incredibly stunning she was. The girl was simply divine.

For a moment there, I almost forgot the mission until I caught Yuri's eyes from across the hall; he was signaling at me. He'd spotted the target and was waiting for my order. I glanced back in the girl's direction, but she wasn't there anymore. She'd disappeared in the crowd.

Who was she?