Chapter Eight

DANIIL

“Gallo sent someone to surveil the estate, but they were not able to get far,”

my oldest brother, Mikhail, says.

“When did that happen?” I ask.

“Early this morning,”

he answers calmly, staring out the window as I drive to the meeting location.

My brothers, Sergei and Rudolf, are riding with us. Sasha is behind us in a separate vehicle with my cousins, Roman and Pasha. The third vehicle is occupied by my cousins, Micha, Nikita, and Tamryn.

Coming to a stop not too far from the river that runs along the northeast side of our property, I park beside my brother, Sasha. My cousin, Micha, pulls in behind us.

Stepping out of our cars, we leave the doors open as we survey the land.

The sweet, pungent cherry aroma of Mikhail’s cigar fills the air as I close my eyes, becoming one with the environment. There’s nothing but the soft sound of the wind, the peaceful trickle of the river, and my brother’s puffing on his cigar.

After four minutes, I reply, “They are coming.”

“You feel this, Daniil?”

“Da.”

My brother nods, puts out his cigar, and walks to the front of the car. I step beside him as two cars approach us over the hill.

The two cars come to a stop several feet from where we are, and several agonizing seconds pass before the doors of each vehicle open. Royal Gallo is a heavy-set, unattractive man. He steps out of the car along with six other armed men.

“What is the meaning of this, Volkov? We had an arrangement.”

“We did, but you failed to fully disclose all the details of the arrangement.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

he says, throwing his arms out at his sides, laughing with the six men accompanying him.

“Like I said, we have some unresolved issues,” I said.

“Hand my wife over to me, and she nor I will no longer be your problem,”

he snarls.

“Do you think it is that easy? No,”

I say, shaking my head. “We must resolve the issues first.”

“What issues?”

he asks in aggravation.

The door to the barn opens, and Don Allegra, Esmé’s father, steps out. He is accompanied by his men, and they are holding guns aimed at Royal and the Barones. The red dots on the Barone’s heads do not waver even though they are all tense, reaching for their guns.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea,”

the Don says, watching the Barones reach for their guns. Smiling at Royal, he says, “Royal, talk to me. You’re like a son to me.”

“What’s this?”

Royal asks, looking at me and then back at the Don.

“He’s here because you’re trying to kill his daughter.”

“Royal, tell me it’s not so,”

Don Allegra says.

I see the realization donning in Royal’s eyes as he understands what’s about to happen. The look that he gives me would send a lesser man to his knees. But I’m no weak man, and his days have come to an end.

“Figlio di puttana!”

Royal says to me, removing his gun as the Barones instantly move in front of him, allowing him to run between the two cars they arrived in. He aims his gun at me through them.

Diving to the passenger side of my car, I grab my gun and take cover behind the open door. A hail of bullets goes flying.

Aiming at Royal, fury, and determination fill me as the Barone men take shots trying to cover Royal. Just like us, they’re wearing bulletproof vests, and they take several hits while shooting back at my family and the Don’s men.

Royal jumps into one of the cars, puts it into reverse, and drives backward before taking a right. He will not survive.

Esmé’s beautiful but worried face flashes in my mind as I dive over the passenger seat into the driver’s seat. Taking a sharp left, I pull past the gunfire and head after Royal.

I take a cut in the road so that I’m no longer following Royal. Driving alongside the winding river with trees on both my left and right, I let the windows down. The cold, winter fresh air flows through the car, filling my lungs and whipping against my face with stinging ferocity.

I pick up speed as I climb the mountain, and my eyes sting with tears from the bitter wind. I come to the end of the road and sit there, allowing my car to idle for a while. With the windows still down, I listen to the sound of the river trickling not too far away, and a little ways off in the distance, I hear a car engine.

Smiling to myself, I let the windows up again. My fingers stroke my gun lying on the passenger seat as lovingly as I stroke Esmé’s beautiful cinnamon skin.

The steel feels comfortable and familiar in my hands, like a lover I have well known for ages. I grip it tighter in my hand, closing my eyes and imagining the fire that bursts forth when the trigger is released.

As the engine draws nearer, I wait for another minute before I see the sedan pass by me.

Setting the gun back on the seat, I pull out from my hiding spot, a little road that most people miss when they’re new to the area.

I slowly make my ascent up the rest of the mountain, and then, at the last minute, I gun the engine, powering my way up to where Royal has taken a left turn. A turn that is a dead end, and he will not make it out of it.

As the Charger powers after him, I see the moment that he recognizes that he has company.

After two more minutes I draw closer to his car, forcing him to look in the rearview mirror. The moment that our gazes meet, it looks like his heart stops in his chest. He floors the sedan, but it doesn’t matter.

Two minutes later, we come to the point where he cannot turn around. I spin the Charger around, blocking the sedan in. Frantically, he looks for a way out, and then he does something stupid.

Royal drives the car a few more feet not realizing that there’s no barrier there. The sedan tips over a ledge, hanging precariously only a few feet from dropping over the edge and into the river below.

I grab the gun and climb from the Charger.

The only sound that interrupts this serenely peaceful day is the sound of snow crunching under my boots as I make my way to where he’s struggling to get out of the car.

Royal leaps from the car only seconds before it falls over the ledge and crashes into the river.

The car creates a cacophony of noise when it hits the river bottom. Birds perching on the ledges below fly up in fright, with a loud fluttering of their wings disturbing the silence.

Seconds pass by before all is quiet again. Royal Gallo is on his knees with his hands splayed on the ground. I’m unsure if he has a gun or not, so I quickly draw on him before he can make another move.

He instantly begins to sit up, and I growl, “Don’t make another fucking move. Looks like you left your gun in the car, my friend.”

“Why’d you turn on me? I paid you good money! Why?”

“By coincidence, Royal. By coincidence.”

“What do you mean by coincidence?”

“You happened to hire me to kill the love of my life.”

“The love of your life?”

“The one woman I wanted more than anything had to walk away from me because she was promised to a man unworthy.”

“Would you like a moment to repent, Royal?”

“Fuck you,”

he mutters again.

“Well, I will say a prayer for you. Father of heaven and earth, You make no mistakes. The time of sacrifice has come, and I offer this miserable soul as a sacrifice so that the hell and terror he reigned here on earth over the lives of your loved ones shall end. Amen.”

I stretch my arms and neck and smile at Royal. “Good enough?”

“You’re a crazy fuck, Volkov!”

Laughing, I shake my head, waving the gun at him as if it were my finger. “You know, you are not the first person to say that. And you will not be the last. But those will be the last words you speak.”

Aiming straight at his heart, I release the trigger.

Royal Gallo falls forward, face down into the snow. Silence descends on the territory again. I glance around at the beautiful, serene landscape. Then I turn my gaze back down to the red splotch at my feet and then to the dirty bastard lying here face down in the snow.

I stare at the smoking gun and remove the silencer. Stuffing it into my left inner coat pocket with my leather-gloved hands, I look at his dead body and kick it.

My phone rings. I pull it out and see Mikhail is calling.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“All is well. What about you?”

“We are okay. Tamryn took a hit to the leg, but he is okay and Sergei was hit in the arm, but he is okay. Two of the Don’s men are not okay. We have cleaned up.”

“Okay. I will be down shortly.”

I stuff the phone inside my pants pocket and remove my coat. Tossing it onto the snow-covered ground, I bend and lift the man over my shoulder.

“Zhirnyy trakh!”

I groan underneath the dead weight.

I proceed to my destination to dispose of his body.