Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(63)

A bitter laugh escaped Mishca as he buried his face in his hands. “The list is endless.”

He had more enemies than any man should, and probably more that he didn’t yet know about, but he could only think of two that were bold enough to act against him.

The Irish and the Albanians.

“Where’s Declan?”

“Last I heard, he was out of the country.”

Which didn’t ultimately mean that he was. “Verify that I’ll—”

“Boss?”

“What!” Mishca snapped at Luka’s intrusion.

“There’s something you should see.”

Luka’s tone made Mishca look away from his phone, up to where he stood with a young boy. The boy was nervous, constantly peeking up at Luka like he thought he might harm him. In his hand he held a video camera.

Trying to reign in his temper so as not to frighten the boy. “What is it?”

The boy looked from Luka to Mishca, his eyes moving to the stars on his chest. That put him on edge. People didn’t immediately look for the stars unless they knew where they were.

“Who are you?”

“He told me to give you this,” the boy said extending his arm, holding the camera out for Mishca to take.

If not for the accent, he might have excused this as one of his father’s attempts at being cloak and dagger, but he knew without a doubt this was another message from the Albanians.

“Send him off,” Mishca said in Russian, “and come right back.”

As Luka hurried off to do his bidding, Mishca turned the bulky camera over in his hands, trying to discern anything he could from the state of it. It was fairly new, with only a few scratches on it.

Pressing the button at the top, he switched the camera on, going to the gallery, locating the only file within it. Luka and Vlad walked around to his side as he pressed play on the video.

The screen was black before the picture abruptly started, views of a crumbling building coming into focus until it zeroed in on Lauren. Mishca’s legs dropped down from the desk as his fingers tightened around the camera.

She was bound to a chair, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears. Gagged with a black cloth, she looked terrified.

A burly man appeared from behind the camera, walking over to her to rip the cloth from her mouth. She winced and the look of pain that lanced across her face made him want to hurl the camera across the room.

The man didn’t bother with a mask, knowing that Mishca wouldn’t go to the police with this…and because the Albanians were crazy enough not to care.

“Read it!”

“We k-know you have the d-diamond,” she started shakily, her voice breaking at the end.

Another tear fell as she looked to something past the camera. “Meet us at the Boneyard within the hour or,” her breath caught as she read the next line staring directly at him, “s-she dies.”

As soon as the video cut out, Mishca hurled the camera against the wall, watching pieces of it break off as he lurched to his feet. Neither Vlad nor Luka knew what to say, but they both wore similar expressions.

Vlad stepped out of the room, gong down to the floor to alert the others to what had happened. Mishca was back to pacing, his mind working frantically as he tried to think of his next move.

“This was him,” he muttered darkly, thinking of Jetmir. “Brahim wouldn’t be stupid enough to act against me without his authority.”

“Boss—”

“Who the f*ck do they take me for? Huh?” Mishca wasn’t actually talking to Luka though he was still in the room.

He didn’t think the Bratva Captain even realized he was speaking aloud.

Mishca stormed over to one of the paintings on the wall, ripping it down as he punched in the combination to the safe hidden behind it. In it were stacks of cash and a few handguns, one Mishca pulled out. He withdrew a magazine as well, checking the clip before slamming it into place, loading a bullet into the chamber.

Luka stood watching him, seeing the manic gleam in his eye, so different from his own. While Luka’s reasons were his own, Mishca was more worried about saving another’s life than his own safety.

He also knew that this type of reaction would get him killed. He did the only thing he knew.

He slapped the back of his head, adding a little more force than necessary. Might as well make it worth it.

Mishca was so surprised by the hit that for a second he could only stare at Luka. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d done the same to him, so he wasn’t particularly upset by it.

“Be calm, brother,” Luka said.

“She’s…she’s everything to me.”

Even if he had never experienced the love Mishca had for Lauren, he could understand the fear he felt.

Luka patted his jeans’ pocket. “And we’ll kill them all to get her back.”





Rearing back, Luka kicked the door to the Albanians’ hideout off its hinges.

The five men sitting in front of the television all looked up in surprise, their hands automatically reaching for the guns at their belts, but with his already in hand, Mishca aimed and shot, killing two in seconds, Luka taking care of the others.

Jetmir was in the back bedroom, a woman on her knees before him, but when he heard the gunshots, he quickly shoved her away, jerking his pants up as he reached for the gun on the bedside table.