Page 13 of Born into Blood

My dad nods at Timofey, who quickly shoots the guy on the right while Max takes out the guy in the middle and Val makes a quick end of the guy on the left.

“Fuck!” Ace yells, watching the men fall behind him, already dead before they hit the ground.

Pissed, my dad steps in front of Ace, using his gun to tap his chest hard enough to get his attention. Ace’s wide eyes turn back to my dad, who then uses his gun to point to his fallen men.

“Those deaths are on you. You were their leader, and you chose to bring them here tonight, knowing you were ignoring our warning. We may have pulled the trigger, but they died because of you. A good leader cares about his men, and a great one will die with them.”

My dad looks at him and gives a harsh laugh. “You’re far from a great leader, but we’ll let you die with them anyway.” He turns his back on Ace and meets my eyes. “Finish him, Son.”

I nod and raise my gun, shooting him in the head before Ace can even think to beg for his life. The first time I killed a man, it didn’t feel real. I pulled the trigger and watched the man’s head jerk back before he’d fallen, collapsing on the muddy ground. I’d watched the blood pour out of him, soaking the ground and forming a puddle beneath his head. It had been so fast, and I’d replayed the moment over and over in my head that night, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilt about it. He was a threat to my family, so he had to die. The next kill was even easier. I didn’t stand around to watch his blood form a puddle. I’d just shot him and walked away. Execution-style kills were easy. Torturing for information was harder to get used to, but humans are resilient creatures, and we can adapt to all sorts of things, especially when the men being tortured are low-life scum who would be more than happy to rape and kill your sisters and mothers. It’s not like we’re out here hurting innocent people. Everyone we come up against deserves it. There are no innocent victims, just really bad men whose deaths make the world a slightly safer place.

I may be drawing a morally grey line, but I’m okay with it. I know what I’m capable of and what I’m not, and at the end of the day, I sleep just fine.

My dad squeezes my shoulder, meeting my eyes again to make sure I’m okay. Whatever he sees must convince him I’m fine, because he smiles and brings his hand to the back of my neck.

“Nicely done, Son.” He looks back to make sure Pavel and Viktor are going through the bodies to take whatever drugs they may have and also to grab the phones or anything else that could potentially lead the cops to us. Satisfied, he gives Timofey a wave and then motions for the rest of us to head back the way we came.

Max walks beside me, and I swear you’d never know he just committed murder. “You wanna go grab something to eat?”

I shake my head and shove my gun in the waistband of my jeans. “Uncle Vitaly and I ate on our way over, and I need to help Damien with something.”

“We can swing through a drive-thru,” Uncle Vitaly says. “I could go for another shake.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Uncle Vitaly actually reach the point of being too full. You’d never know it to look at him because the man is still a solid wall of muscle, but I swear he could happily exist on nothing but grease and sugar. If it weren’t for my Aunt Katya insisting he eat whatever vegetables she puts in front of him, he probably would’ve had a heart attack years ago.

“Sounds good to me,” Max tells him.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry, too,” Val says. He nudges my shoulder when we get back to the cars. “Text me tomorrow if you want to hang out.”

“Sure thing,” I tell him, getting in the car with my dad while he gets in the car with his dad and Max. My cousins are like my brothers and sisters. We all grew up together, and we all live just a few minutes away from one another. I can’t imagine my life without every single one of them.

“What’s going on with Damien?” my dad asks once we’re back on the main road and in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

“I’m helping him with his English paper tonight.”

“Does he know that?”

“Not yet.”

My dad gives a soft laugh, but I see the small smile, and I know he approves. Instead of asking for more information, he surprises me by switching topics completely.

“Your Uncle Vitaly said there’s a new waitress working the top floor at Dominic’s club.”

“Jesus,” I groan. “He gossips more than any girl I’ve ever met.”

My dad laughs again. “He always has. So, who’s the girl?”

“How the hell should I know, and why the hell is everyone asking me about her?”

I see my dad’s shoulder shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Vitaly said he caught a vibe.”

“Uncle Vitaly didn’t catch shit. He’s imagining things in his old age.”

“I’ll be sure and tell him you said that. He’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

I can’t help but laugh. I swear I can hear him calling me a little fucker already. He always says it with such love, though. Little fucker and little shit are terms of endearment when they come from one of my uncles.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to date, you know?”

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