Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance
Ruthless Mafia King: Chapter 40

We’re not leaving anything to chance, taking six cars, each packed with five men. Three are filled with people I trust, and the other two hold the people who’ll become my family.

I readjust the straps on my bulletproof vest while Ivan follows Igor’s car. I recheck the gun and count the ammo. I tap my thigh with nervous energy.

In theory, we’ll have the upper hand by using the element of surprise and coming at them with thirty men. The plan is to be in and out before Gargarin even realizes what hit him. All of us should come out in one piece with barely a bullet spent.

In theory . . .

We all know that real life doesn’t work according to theories. It’s a lot more cruel and brutal. People make mistakes, and life often doesn’t always end nicely.

But it has to for me.

Because Katarina can’t marry a dead man. The thought of her, pregnant and miserable, thinking I broke my promise, doesn’t settle well in my mind.

My child won’t be raised without a father. I’ll be there every day to teach him or her about running a business. Only when they’re all grown up and strong, will I be ready to leave this world, knowing that the Volkov empire will be in capable hands. In my child’s control.

But to do that, we have to play our cards right today.

As Katarina so sweetly told me, I can’t fucking die. There are too many people relying on me, and I’ll be damned if I fuck that up.

“You okay, boss?” Ivan asks, glancing at me from the driver’s side.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Just wired up.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve done this,” he muses. “Do you remember that time we robbed the liquor store as kids? Your father beat us up, but not because we did it.”

“He was angry at us for taking the alcohol while leaving the money behind,” I finish, and chuckle. “Father of the year.”

“Be sure to get some kind of proof when we kill Yakov,” Ivan tells me after a pause. “Dimitri might be your future father-in-law, but we both know he can be a real pain in the ass. Don’t give him a reason to question you.”

“You’re right,” I agree, knowing he’s just trying to look out for me as he has ever since we were kids. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Have some good news for me, at least?” he asks.

“Nyet.” I shrug. “Well, I guess it depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you still fancy my sister,” I reply with a smirk.

Ivan huffs out a chuckle, but it sounds forced. I decide it’s best to put him out of his misery. I’ll need him focused when we get to Gargarin’s bar.

“Katya’s coming for the wedding,” I tell him, watching him carefully for his reaction.

Ivan keeps his expression neutral, his eyes firmly on the road. “Oh,” is all he says, followed by a curt nod. He’d be a terrible poker player.

“Yeah,” I say with a grin, and shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. You have even less chance with her than you did when we lived in Moscow. She’s a hotshot lawyer now. Apparently, she and Vasily spend a lot of time together.”

“That leaves you as the odd one out,” he says, as if I didn’t know that already. “The black sheep, who chose the life of organized crime.”

“Foreign Intelligence Service isn’t that much better,” I mutter. “They do what they want under the pretense of keeping mother Russia safe.”

“I take it that Vasily’s also coming to the wedding,” Ivan guesses, and I nod. “I figured as much. I doubt he’d send you his men without wanting something in return. Be careful, Nik. Your brother’s a different kind of powerful man than you’re used to dealing with.”

“I know,” I confirm. “It’s a good thing I have you to watch my back.”

“If we come out of this alive, I’ll be happy to keep on doing my job,” he says. “Unless Katya finally opens her eyes to the truth and realizes that I’m the man of her dreams.”

I chuckle and watch the shimmering city beyond the tinted windows. Katarina’s probably pacing her parents’ house, counting the seconds until I’m back, sipping on ginger tea. I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep a smile from spreading across my face.

She and I really are two of a kind.

Naturally attracted.

At odds with the world.

It’s a sinful match made in hell.

When one of the three men sitting in the back clears his throat, I’m pulled back to the present. We’re nearly there.

The plan is to go straight to the bar and enter through the front door. Anyone with a gun is an open target. If Yakov isn’t there, we’ll force the bartender to make the call.

That’s the plan for the best-case scenario.

However, like theories, best-case scenarios often don’t work out in real life either.

Which is why I shouldn’t be surprised that shit hits the fan the moment we arrive.

Igor’s car is the first in our convoy. I’m clutching my gun.

There are already a few smoke plumes around the perimeter of the bar, but one spot glows brighter than the others.

“Fuck,” Ivan hisses. “Something’s burning. I smell gasoline.”

“And gunpowder,” I add, and jump out of the car just before Ivan hits the brakes.

Gun in hand, I scan the surroundings. Our men have spread out to check the perimeter. I find Igor standing with his back turned to me.

“Igor?” I growl, checking the scene before I reach him. Two men, similar in age to us, lie on the ground, their dead eyes wide open in surprise. Since their brains are blown out and their expressions fixed, I can safely guess that the cause of death wasn’t a heart attack.

“Who are they?” I ask, not recognizing either of their faces.

“They’re not ours,” Igor says. “Why would Gargarin kill his own men?”

“I don’t think he did,” I mutter, my heart dropping into my stomach. Shit. “Someone else did this.”

“No.” Igor shakes his head in denial. “No, that can’t be true. I would’ve heard the whispers. My intel’s always right.”

“Forget about that,” I half-yell angrily. “Face the facts. The bar’s burning. The dead don’t belong to you or me. There’s someone else we didn’t count on.”

Igor turns to me, a question in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as a gunshot echoes, and he falls to the ground.

“Fuck!” I curse, and duck low, looking blindly around, trying to figure out where the bullet came from. The wind distorted the sound, and the echoes made it seem like the gunman could be anywhere around us.

Igor’s lying limply on the ground. He’s bleeding heavily from the side of his head. I’m not sure if he’s alive, and I don’t have time to check because another gunshot resonates.

Someone cries out.

“Sniper!” Ivan yells. “Get down!”

“Where the fuck is he shooting from?” I ask no one in particular. I can’t even be sure I’m safe behind the car.

Blood starts trickling from the corners of Igor’s mouth. I squeeze my jaw, ready to slam him against the car door for not being cautious, but before I can do that, another sniper bullet rips through the air, cracking loudly. I plug my ears and look blindly above me.

Shit.

Without stopping to think, I slither on the ground toward Igor. As much as I hate the bastard for all the pain he’s caused me, I can’t let him die. Not when there’s a chance that he might live. Katarina loves her fool of a brother.

When I reach him, I can see he’s struggling. I glance at his face, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. I can practically feel the tension leaving his body, and I shake my head at him. I touch blindly around the bleeding spots, trying to pinpoint where the bullet hit him. It must be in the head.

Suddenly, the unmistakable scent of gasoline wraps around me, making it impossible to breathe. The fire has spread to the surrounding cars. One small flame flickers dangerously close to a gas tank.

In the heavy silence that falls around us, I realize the shooting has stopped, and there’s a white van speeding away.

Now’s the time to take the risk.

“You!” I point at one of Igor’s men. He straightens up, waiting for orders. “Get Igor to a doctor. He’s your responsibility now. You better hope he survives.”

The man clenches his jaw and nods. Then he and his friend carry Igor to their car.

“The rest of you, get in your cars,” I order, raising my voice so everyone can hear me over the sounds of the burning building. “We have to find that van!”