34. Chapter 34

34

Dimitri

E rik twirls his knife, the blade dancing between his fingers as he lounges in a leather chair that belongs more in a high-end strip club than a meeting room. The massive screen on the wall flickers to life. Luka's face pops up, looking like a fucking travel brochure.

"Well, if it isn't our fearless leader," I growl, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "Nice tan, brat . Planning on entering a surfing competition?"

Luka's lips quirk up in an infuriatingly calm smile. "Jealous, D? You look like shit."

"Fuck you," I snarl, but there's no real heat behind it. He's not wrong. Two weeks of non-stop hunting has left me ragged.

Erik snorts. "Ladies, you're both pretty. Can we get on with it?"

I flip him off. He just grins. Suka.

"So," Luka says, leaning back in his chair.

The fucker looks relaxed .

"What do we know about these Skull Collectors?"

My jaw clenches. "They're everywhere. Like fucking cockroaches."

Erik nods, his playful demeanor fading. "D's not wrong. They've got ties to Moscow, New York, and now they're sniffing around Chicago."

" Blyat ," Luka mutters. "Any idea what they're after?"

I grunt, memories of the past two weeks flashing through my mind. Blood. Screams. Broken bodies. "Power. What else?"

"There's more to it," Erik says, his knife stilling. "They're… organized. Disciplined. This isn't just another street gang."

My skin crawls. He's right. These fuckers are different. Dangerous.

" Da ," I grunt. "Just tired of chasing ghosts."

Luka leans forward, his eyes sharp. "What aren't you telling us, brat ?"

I look away, cursing internally. Perceptive bastard.

"Nothing," I lie. But my mind betrays me, flashing to wild raven hair and defiant eyes. To soft skin and biting words.

To Wren.

Two weeks without her.

Not that I care , I tell myself. She's nothing. No one.

"Bullshit," Luka says softly. "Spill it, D."

I growl, frustration boiling over. "You want to know? Fine. I think we're fucked. These Skull Collectors, they're not just some upstart gang. They're… something else."

Erik's knife stills completely. "What do you mean?"

I run a hand through my hair, struggling to put the feeling into words. "It's like they're everywhere and nowhere. I've tortured their men, hunted their hideouts. But it's like trying to grab smoke."

Luka's face is grim now, all traces of relaxation gone. "You think we're dealing with something bigger?"

" Da ," I mutter, jaw clenched tight. "These skull-fucking mudaks are the same shitheads who hit our vodka factory. I'd bet my left nut on it."

Erik's eyes narrow. "You sure about that, big man?"

" Nyet ," I growl, slamming my fist on the table. "But my gut's screaming it louder than a whore on payday."

Luka leans in, his tanned mug filling the screen. "Spill it, brat . Every fucking detail."

I lay out the shitshow at the warehouse. The security breach that shouldn't have been possible. Yuri's mangled corpse. That blood-soaked message that makes my trigger finger itch.

Erik jumps in with his tech bullshit, cool as a fucking cucumber. Always the smooth talker.

" Yob tvoyu mat ," Luka spits when we finish. His surfer-boy face has gone whiter than a Siberian winter. "This is a bigger clusterfuck than we thought."

"No shit, Sherlock," I snarl, teeth bared. "These aren't some two-bit gopniks . They gutted our system like pros."

Erik's knife is dancing again, the show-off prick. "I've got ears to the ground. Squeezing every rat and snitch from here to Brighton Beach."

"Good." Luka nods. "Dig deeper. We need to know who's pulling these cocksuckers' strings."

I crack my knuckles, blood singing for violence. "Just point me at ‘em. I'll make ‘em sing like they're in the fucking choir."

"Easy, you rabid bear," Erik says, eyeing me like I'm a bomb about to go off. "We need brains, not just bloodshed."

" Poshel ty ," I snap, flipping him the bird. The bastard just grins.

Luka sighs, messing up his pretty-boy hair. "D, fokus, blyad' . No unnecessary carnage."

"Define unnecessary," I growl, itching to hurt something.

Erik snorts. Luka looks like he's aged a decade in minutes.

"How's the kid?" I ask, the question surprising even me. "Yulia."

Luka's face softens. "Good. Misses her scary Uncle D."

My chest tightens. Fuck me sideways. I miss the little brat, too.

"Tell her…" I start, then clamp my mouth shut. What? That Uncle D's wading through corpses? Chasing fucking shadows?

"I'll tell her you're thinking of her," Luka says quietly.

I grunt, looking away. Fucking feelings. Making me soft.

"We'll crack this wide open," Erik says, oozing confidence like it's his cologne. "I'm this close to nailing their underboss here in the Windy City."

"How close?" Luka demands, all business again.

Erik's smile is pure predator. "Close enough to count the hairs on his balls."

A matching grin spreads across my face. Finally, some good fucking news in this shitstorm.

"Do it," Luka orders. "Whatever it takes. But use your head, not just your fists."

"Always do, boss," Erik purrs, smooth as vodka.

I snort, leaning back in my chair. "Says the idiot who lost his bride."

Erik's smile falters for a split second. "Low blow, D. At least I'm not the one hiding a houseguest."

My blood runs cold. "The fuck you talking about?"

Luka leans in, his face filling the screen. "Ah yes, the elusive Lucia di Fuoco. Shame she slipped through our fingers, eh, Erik?"

Erik shrugs, trying to play it cool. "She can't hide forever. I'll find her."

"Better hurry," I growl, glad to shift the focus. "Before she finds a real man."

Luka chuckles. "Alright, you two. Enough measuring dicks. Erik, what's this about a houseguest ?"

Fuck . My hand moves toward the laptop, ready to end this call.

Erik's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, just a little birdie D's been keeping—"

I slam the laptop shut, cutting off Luka mid-sentence. The room falls silent.

"What the fuck, Erik?" I snarl, standing up.

He twirls his knife, grinning. "Something to hide, big guy?"

I take a menacing step forward. "There's nothing to hide, mudak . And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."

"Sure, sure," Erik smirks, standing up. "Your secret's safe with me. For now."

As he saunters out, my phone buzzes. A text from Luka:

We're not done talking about this "houseguest," brat. What are you not telling me?

Suka blyat . This day is going to be a cocktease from hell.