The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(94)

Mishca briefly glanced over, just imagining how much information was stored in them, but it didn’t all make sense. “How did they know about Brazil? About the wet rooms?”

“In the beginning, I didn’t have to report in. We couldn’t risk it at the time, but as years passed and you all began to trust me, it was easier to report. Green knows about the wet rooms because she grew impatient with what I was feeding her, which granted, wasn’t very much at all, but I knew that there wasn’t anything she could do with the information but speculate. She was tired of what I was giving, and she threatened to end my assignment early if I didn’t give her something new—that’s why I sent the pictures of Brazil. They meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but they were enough to present to Lauren. I didn’t know that she was still going to break my cover.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Mishca argued.

“She acted against orders. This—” He gestured between the two of them. “—Was not supposed to happen for another six months.”

“It still doesn’t explain how it was so easy for Klaus to find you, even with what he can do.”

“That does explain it all, and once you realize that, you’ll do what you need to.”

Vlad was trying to tell him something, Mishca knew this, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was.

When he heard the unmistakeable sound of the door clicking shut behind him, Mishca turned, his grip more firm around his gun as he aimed at whoever had come in behind him. Luka’s usual amusement was gone as he looked from Mishca to Vlad. Now that he was here, Mishca had to worry about someone else potentially trying to prevent him from carrying out a plan he wasn’t even sure he was going to do. He did, however, wonder how Luka could have known to come here when Mishca had only learned of the location hours ago.

Ignoring his presence for the moment, Mishca turned back to Vlad, his heart racing. Right now, he only had two options, both being detrimental to him. Vlad could live and Mishca would lose everything he had built with Lauren, or he could end this now, and turn into the one thing he had sworn never to be.

Vlad could see it in his eyes, the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. Even if it were possible for him to walk out of that room alive, Vlad knew the life Mishca would be giving up, and the danger he would put Lauren in because of it.

Vlad shook his head, a small, but sad smile playing at his lips. “It’s over, kid.”

Mishca’s arm was shaking, his aim wavering again. It was hard, standing there trying to hold his composure when the only thing he wanted to do was walk away. The moisture in his eyes blurred his vision, making it almost impossible to see, but he did see a blurred shape just out the corner of his eye, and by the time he realized what it was, it was too late.

“No!”

But Luka had already pulled the trigger before Mishca could utter a single syllable of the word.

Vlad didn’t scream, not when the first bullet hit him, nor the second. He had been expecting it after all, though not from Luka. His eyes were wide for only a moment before they slowly slid shut, his body going lax in the chair.

Mishca swung around in fury, his gun aimed at Luka’s heart. He wanted him to fear what he would do. He needed him to, but Luka refused to balk under the hatred in Mishca’s eyes.

It pissed him off that Luka could just stand there, unaffected, despite having just taken a man’s life. Rage unchecked, Mishca swung, connecting first with his jaw, then again to his nose.

At first, Luka didn’t fight back though his nose was bleeding heavily. Instead, he grinned, blood staining his teeth, his eyes taking on a maniacal gleam, and as he chuckled, as though he found the entire situation funny.

Then his gaze grew vacant, like he wasn’t entirely there.

Before Mishca could swing again, Luka struck out, faster than Mishca thought possible, jerking Mishca’s index finger, breaking it in the process as he effectively disarmed him. He didn’t stop there, sweeping his leg out to knock Mishca to the ground.

Luka loomed over him, the gun still in his hand as he tapped it against his knee. Mishca had always appreciated how easily Luka could disarm his enemies and take them out with very little effort, but now that he was on the receiving end, he now understood what others saw in Luka.

Never had he seen someone go from completely calm, to deadly in a span of a few short seconds. Sometimes it annoyed him, but most times Luka’s maniacal behavior amused him. Now, he thought something was seriously wrong with the enforcer.

His voice didn’t portray any of the amusement he had felt minutes before. “I’ve never liked getting hit.”

What did he expect Mishca to say to that?

But he didn’t seem to be looking for an answer as he went on. “He had to die, you know this. Now, finish your goodbyes so I can take care of the body.”

Luka held the gun out like a peace offering, that dead look in his eyes disappearing as his easy humor replaced it.

He was an excellent man to have on his side, but Luka was a formidable enemy, and anyone that thought to cross him would live to regret it.

Facing his enforcer, the silence of the room nearly suffocating him, Mishca had never felt more out of control in his life.



Lauren heard the door slam shut, but didn’t bother going out, knowing that if Mishca wanted her to know where he was going, he would have told her. She dropped her face in her hands, wishing she knew what to do for him.