5. Gleb

Neither Pyotr nor I slept a wink before loading onto his private jet before dawn. The short flight up to the Veles estate is brimming with silent anticipation. As the men gather in the vast entryway of Pyotr's Upstate family chalet to prep their weapons and pocket their ammo, I can feel the excited vibrations in the air.

It's organized chaos, soldiers gearing up for battle, the conversations a low chatter of anticipation. And I walk through their ranks, ensuring everyone will be ready to go and out the door as soon as Pyotr gives the signal.

The strategy is simple. Strike hard and fast, before Mikhail even knows we're in the neighborhood. Pyotr and I didn't have much time to plan beyond the best way to infiltrate his property without calling attention to ourselves. And at this point, I don't see a better tactic.

But I'm less than thrilled about the situation we're in today. My intuition won't shut up about the fact that something's off about this whole situation. The only reason I'm willing to press forward with my pakhan's plan is that all signs point to Mel and the girls having been taken to Mikhail's estate. So maybe I can get them back today—two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Still, I can't shake the uneasy feeling that I'm missing something.

Like perhaps this was all a ploy, and Mikhail was just waiting for us to chase him down so he could sweep in and lay claim to our Brooklyn territory.

I've been reading the signs long enough. And after yesterday, I'm confident we have a traitor in our midst. How else could the Zhivoder keep timing things so perfectly? Yesterday, they lured me to Imperia, knowing I would be too far from the girls to be of any help. And that's when Mikhail struck, taking them when he would find the least resistance.

He must have someone on the inside, someone who knows all the moves Pyotr's key players are making. Which is why I watch the men closely as they prepare. I search every face for traces of treachery, any hint that someone's not who they say they are. I'm trying to keep my mind broad until I have proof of who's the rat. But I have my suspicions, and I've made them perfectly clear to my pakhan—even if they're not what he wants to hear.

This morning, Pyotr's bodyguard, Efrem, is silent, brooding, his eyes intent on his task, but his mind is miles away from here. Perhaps thinking about how he might warn Mikhail we're here, if he hasn't already.

The unspoken rivalry between me and the blond behemoth has existed from the day I stepped off Pyotr's plane from Chicago. I'd always assumed Efrem's healthy amount of suspicion toward me was due to the level of trust I managed to gain with his pakhan while Efrem wasn't around to vet me himself.

I've always overlooked the "pretty boy" jab he uses for my nickname, assuming he had some unresolved resentment over my quick ascent to the role of Pyotr's bratok. But in recent months, my gut instinct has been warning me that something's different. And it wouldn't shock me one bit if he's our turncoat.

As if sensing my eyes on him, Efrem looks in my direction. His intense blue eyes scrutinize me for a fleeting moment. Then, he gives a curt nod before returning them to his task. It's not just our rivalry or the way he looks at me—with an unnerving level of perception, like he sees everything and would like nothing more than to crack open my skull and dissect the inner workings of my mind.

What bothers me most is his interest in the Richelieu girl—Dani. Efrem's far too entangled with her. He thinks I don't know that they've been dating under the radar. But I do. It's my job to know all the goings-on around my pakhan, and I'm damn good at my job because it's all I've ever trained for.

Don't get me wrong. Dani seems like a nice enough girl. A bit on the naive side, maybe, but the way she's treated Mel and the girls would definitely speak in favor of her being a good person. And Pyotr and Silvia trust her.

No, what bothers me is that Dani's father—New York's attorney general and an influential political figure—has been developing increasingly close ties to Mikhail. Which means Efrem's position in Pyotr's inner circle could be the hole in our boat that just might sink this giant ship.

"Are we ready?" Pyotr asks, cutting through my spiraling thoughts and bringing me back to the task at hand.

I give a curt nod, glancing around to ensure the men are locked and loaded. "Let's move out."

During our time inside, it has transitioned into a clear, crisp morning, with fresh snow glittering on the ground. The men's breaths escape in plumes, fogging around me, but the heat of our adrenaline easily burns away the bitter chill.

To a man, they're more than ready to put an end to this bloody conflict. To kill the clan that's been slowly crushing the Veles brotherhood like a python. And no one would love that more than me. I have seven innocent women's lives on my conscience—women who worked for Pyotr, were under his protection, my protection—women who died brutal deaths at the hands of the Zhivoder clan, and I fully intend to avenge them.

It takes no time to load into the Land Rovers. Then we're driving the miles of open terrain between the Veles estate and Mikhail's, avoiding the roads so no one will see us coming. It's a considerable distance, but in a world of sprawling estates, I doubt we cross more than a handful of boundary lines. No one is going to see us out here in the middle of nowhere.

We park at the edge of Mikhail's estate, choosing to go by foot so as not to call attention to our presence. I flank Pyotr on the other side of Efrem, taking up Val's usual position. The brooding bodyguard still hasn't completely recovered from a bullet to his leg that he took protecting our pakhan and his family less than a month ago.

He can still do his duties around the Brooklyn brownstone property, but today requires too much walking, too much stealth, so we had to leave him behind. Breaking that news to him hadn't been pretty. He's proud, and I think learning that he's not indestructible has taken its toll lately. But in the end, he understood.

So now it's my duty to protect Pyotr alongside Efrem—or perhaps against him. I have one eye forward and one eye on the impressively stealthy bodyguard as we creep through the woods.

I keep a keen ear out for any unexpected sounds as we stalk through the trees on silent feet.

The woods are quiet, our feet muffled by the soft blanket of snow. I keep my gun at the ready, my eyes scanning the trees for any movement as we make our slow and steady approach. My men, fifty or so good, loyal soldiers, fan out behind me and to my left.

Maks and his squad are on the right, with Osip and his men taking up the rear.

Soft early-morning sunlight casts a pink glow through the wooded space, beckoning the day. But something feels off to me. Most people find unexpected noise and movement unnerving.

I know better.

It's in the silent stillness that the best predators hunt their prey.

And aside from the whispers of our own footfalls on the ground, I don't hear a single sound.

My gaze flicks toward Pyotr, then Efrem, but neither seems disturbed by the heavy quiet. So I press on. I'm wound too tight and finding imaginary monsters around every corner. I need to wait, to keep my senses sharp, until I figure out what's had my intuition tingling for far too long now.

Ahead, through the trees, a massive building comes into view—a gray-stone structure with towering, impenetrable walls and turrets that cap each corner like watch towers. It vaguely calls to mind some medieval castle built to withstand attacks just like this one.

Raising my hand, I make a fist to bring my men to a halt. And behind me, I can hear Osip's men do the same. We pause at the edge of the treeline. Waiting for any sign of movement, any guards monitoring the perimeter of the home. The hair raises on the back of my neck as no one makes a sound.

Something's not right.

I frown, and my eyes flash in Efrem's direction as my instincts kick into high gear—as do my suspicions. But Pytor's bodyguard looks just as on edge as I feel. Like he finally senses it, too.

A burst of gunfire erupts from somewhere off toward our left, and I crouch automatically, sinking behind the cover of a bare-limbed bush. Panicked shouts follow a moment later, confirming what my gut has been telling me for the last ten minutes. We're under attack.

Armed men bearing sniper rifles come flooding from the house.

"It's a trap," I snarl in Pyotr's direction.

Efrem forces him into cover, making me momentarily grateful for his presence.

The rat-a-tat of AR rifles issue from our right, warning me that they're coming at us from both directions. And in an instant, we're in a firefight. Pyotr barks the command to fight back.

"Shoot whoever you can find!" I bellow in Russian, ordering the men to engage.

Then I raise my gun, putting bullets in two Zhivoder men who start to step from cover. I shoot blindly for the points where gunfire originates from, too. This isn't my forte—volleying bullets back and forth between front lines.

I'm trained for tactical maneuvers, covert missions, and fighting dirty. This is just a bloodbath. But I suppose it doesn't take much training when it comes down to shoot or be shot.

Beside me, Pyotr takes down Zhivoder men with deadly accuracy. And I know he's just as enraged as I am. But I wonder if he knows yet what I see with brilliant clarity.

Mikhail's men knew we were coming. The information Maks gave Pyotr was bad. And we walked right into the Zhivoder's trap. Now, Veles men are being slaughtered.

I had a gut feeling.

I should have spoken up.

"Fall back!" Pyotr bellows, noting how close we are to getting pinned down.

He and Efrem slip from cover at the same time, and I follow closely, keeping a sharp eye on the blond bodyguard, who I fully intend on confronting when we get out of this alive. I've ignored my instincts long enough. I don't care if Pyotr trusts him. Efrem knows too much.

I turn, taking out three men who appear around the trees, aiming to shoot us down. Then I hiss a string of profanity as my bullets run out. Shoving my gun in its holster, I grab for the next.

"Blyat!" Efrem cusses, drawing my eyes.

I look just in time to see him turn to face Pyotr, and he launches forward, tackling our pakhan to the ground. Bastard's taking advantage of the chaos to take Pyotr out of the equation.

Over my dead body.

I aim at the back of Efrem's head, ready to end the traitor.

Then, from my peripheral, I catch sight of the gunman. Dressed in full camo, he stands beyond the bushes, his gun still smoking.

I put three bullets in him without blinking—two to the chest, one to the head—then watch as the man drops, lifeless, to the ground.

My eyes shift back to our pakhan, and I freeze as the blond bodyguard rolls off of Pyotr. Blood spreads steadily across Efrem's broad chest.

My heart skips a beat.

"Efrem!" Pyotr shouts, scrabbling across the ground toward him.

Efrem releases a gurgling cough, and I know from the sound that he's not going to make it. Maybe if we weren't in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by enemies who have us on the run. But not now. Not today.

"Someone help me get him up!" Pyotr demands, panic in his voice.

My gut wrenches as I step forward to do as he says, despite Efrem's mortal wound.

Efrem releases a horrible, racking cough. His shoulders curl instinctively, his back lifting off the ground in an effort to relieve the choking sensation as blood fills his lungs. Our eyes meet, and I find a grim determination in their crystal-blue depths.

It makes me regret every horrible thought, every dark suspicion I ever had about the man.

Because he willingly sacrificed his life to protect Pyotr. I can see it in the way he looks at me now, silently demanding I take the responsibility on my shoulders now that he can no longer protect our pakhan.

And a deep, resounding respect for the man fills my chest.

"Help me carry him," Pyotr commands.

I kneel to follow his order, though I know Efrem won't make it back to the cars alive. But I suddenly can't stand the thought of leaving his body behind. The man I was seconds away from killing myself, and I would put my life on the line to get him away from this massacre.

"No," Efrem growls through bloody lips. He grips the front of Pyotr's shirt, hauling him closer.

His next words are lost in the ensuing burst of AR gunfire, and I raise my gun to kill another enemy who leaves his cover for a split second.

"I'm not leaving you," Pyotr states forcefully, his eyes commanding me to grab one of Efrem's arms as he grips the other.

But the behemoth of a man shoves him back with impressive strength. Strength I wouldn't anticipate from a dying man.

"Leave me!" he snarls, the command ending in a choked cough. He rolls onto his side, his face twisting in agony as he spits blood onto the forest floor.

"Efrem…"

"I'm not going to make it," Efrem states, his voice flat and definitive. "And if you get shot trying to save me, then my sacrifice will be for nothing. I don't want to die in vain."

Defeat crumples Pyotr's shoulders, and as he nods, I grip his shoulder, ready to drag him away. We've already fallen too far behind. And Mikhail's men are closing in.

"Tell… tell Dani I'm sorry. That I love her," Efrem rasps.

The sentiment feels so out of place amidst the bloody chaos. And though I've spent far too many hours of my life scrutinizing the motives behind the relationship between Efrem and Dani, I can suddenly see the purity of his love for her. He's not in nearly as much agony from his wound as he is about the thought of leaving her. It puts a cold lump of lead in my stomach.

"Of course," Pyotr promises, gripping Efrem's shoulder, then he slowly rises.

As much as I would like to allow them a proper goodbye, we don't have time. We're nearly surrounded and going to get cut off from our escape unless we leave now. So, I haul Pyotr forward and low, forcing him into a crouched sprint as we make our way through the forest. With Efrem down and the rest of the men carving a path ahead of us, we just might make it if we move fast.

I can see several of my men darting through the trees, Lev and Denka among them.

Keeping a grueling pace, and pausing every few moments to stave off one of the Zhivoder men, we finally make it across the boundary line. The chaotic pile of men scrambling into the Range Rovers is a stark contrast to the confident, deadly army that came here not an hour ago.

It's a desperate plea for survival, and I can't begin to count how many we lost in that slaughter. Following Pyotr into his Range Rover, I slam the door and command the driver to go. The two men who made it into our car with us slump against the backs of their seats as we all breathe heavily. And the SUV bumps and jolts as the tires cover rough ground indiscriminately.

Pyotr's expression is beyond remorse as he peers out the window to the land behind us. I've never seen him look so devastated. And I know that's in large part due to the friend he just lost. My stomach knots as my thoughts turn to the horrible, suffocating pain Pyotr's bodyguard endured. It's a terrible way to die.

Efrem didn't deserve to go like that. None of the men did, trapped like rats and slaughtered like animals. What happened out there in the woods has made one thing abundantly clear.

Efrem isn't the man passing information to Mikhail. No traitor would have sacrificed his life for Pyotr like that. And that means the bastard feeding us false information is still among us. My eyes flick to the two soldiers still panting as they lean their heads back against the headrests. It could be anyone.

But the frustration that roils inside me now, as the Land Rover carries us away from the Zhivoder estate, isn't about the snake in our midst. We failed to get inside the house, which means we didn't find the girls. And my greatest fear is that Mel's time is running out. I couldn't live with myself if I found her beaten, raped, and murdered like the seven girls I failed to protect before.

I'll have to try infiltrating Mikhail's estate again. Only this time, I'll do it my way, slipping silently inside the property line under the cover of darkness with a few good men.

The car is silent, the atmosphere grave and solemn, and when we finally pull up to the front doors of the Veles estate, Pyotr seems to have regained his command.

"Take an account of who survived," he orders Lev as soon as we step out of the Land Rover. "Set up a triage spot, where we can handle the worst of the wounds, and get the plane ready for takeoff. We need to get everyone back to the house. Silvia can help us patch up the wounded."

"Gospodin," Lev acknowledges before jumping into action.

Then he jerks his chin, gesturing me inside the mansion. I follow him down the hall into the cigar room. And as soon as we're alone, Pyotr turns to me with a furious gaze. "Mikhail was waiting for us. He knew what we had planned."

I watch him carefully, reading the emotion rolling off Pyotr in waves.

"We have a traitor in our midst," I state confidently. "I've suspected it for a while now. But this confirms it."

"You better not try and tell me again that it was Efrem," he snarls.

I remain silent, acknowledging his anger with stoic patience. Misreading Pyotr's bodyguard caused as much damage as Pyotr's hesitation to believe me when I told him we have a turncoat. And I know how dearly that has cost my pakhan.

"Weed out the snake, Gleb. And when you do, I intend to make his death slow and painful."

"Yes, gospodin," I agree stiffly.

"Good."

Pyotr turns to leave, but I clear my throat, stiffening to indicate I have something more to discuss. Pausing, Pyotr faces me, his gray eyes penetrating.

"I think there's a good likelihood the girls were taken to Mikhail's estate, sir. I would like permission to stay behind with Lev and Denka to find them." I try to keep my voice even as I say it, but the tension of knowing I might already be too late is ripping me up inside.

Pyotr studies me for a moment, then simply nods. "Whatever resources we have left are at your disposal. I'll send the jet back up to collect you when it's done."

I give a sharp nod, the tension easing slightly from my shoulders as I follow Pyotr from the room. My thoughts focus on Mel and the women now. I know they can't wait much longer. I won't sleep until I find them.

I just better not be too late this time.