Page 24 of Born into Chaos

“Display it at the other warehouse. It’s remote enough so the body can rot without drawing attention. Make sure our men know he’s there so they can all see what happens if one of our own crosses us.”

“I’ll make sure it gets done,” Timofey tells him.

“I can go to the townhouse on Seventh,” I say, not quite ready to call it a night.

“I’ll help,” Sasha quickly says, because evidently he hasn’t killed enough for one night.

“There’s three of them,” Lev warns, but Sasha just laughs at his dad’s concern.

“I’ll call for backup if we need it,” I promise him.

“Fine.” He pulls his son in for a hug, not caring that he’s covered in blood. “Call me immediately if you need help.”

“I will, Dad, don’t worry, and I’ll text you when I’m done.”

Lev ruffles his son’s hair and then pats him on the back. “All right, go have fun.”

Sasha grins and starts cleaning his knife before putting it away.

“Thanks,” I tell Timofey and Lev. “I appreciate you letting me in on this.”

Lev grins. “It’s not often Sveta lets you have a night off. Gotta make the most of it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter. If he’s wondering why I’m choosing to spend one of my rare nights off killing instead of fucking, he keeps it to himself. Maybe he’s used to it because of Sasha.

I tell them both a quick goodbye and then leave with Sasha.

“I’ll follow you over there,” I tell him before he nods and pulls a tinted black motorcycle helmet on. I do the same, and then we start our bikes. The loud rumble fills the night air, and as soon as Sasha leaves the gravel drive we’re on, he picks up speed, racing down the side street with me right behind him. I’m not worried about the dried blood we’re both covered in. It’s dark out, and we’re going too fast for anyone to get a good look at us. Plus, anyone who sees it will just assume it’s paint. No one’s going to look over at us at a red light and immediately assume we’ve just slaughtered a man.

At least I hope not.

Seventh Street is only fifteen minutes away and still very much in our territory, which proves Radomir had far more stupid in him than I gave him credit for. I knew he wasn’t the brightest guy in the Bratva, but I thought he was smart enough to take orders and follow what few rules there are. It’s a mistake he didn’t live very long to regret.

When we get close to the townhouse, Sasha slows down, keeping his bike quiet enough to not draw attention. He parks near a wrought iron fence that probably looked nice and sturdy two decades ago. Now it’s rusty and broken in several spots. There’s a line of shabby-looking townhouses with 519A right on the end.

Sasha takes his helmet off, setting it on his seat so the Grim Reaper design that covers the back is on full display. Ever since the younger generation joined the Bratva, they’ve made damn sure that the symbol Sveta created for them is always front and center. People see that image, and they immediately know what it means. Everyone in the Bratva now has a Grim Reaper tattoo. The bosses are the only oneswho have the mottoBrothers in blood, in life, and in deathwritten in Russian beneath it, but the basic design of a hooded Grim Reaper, skull face partially exposed while holding a bloody scythe, is on all of us now. I’d gotten it on my right forearm, close to where my brother’s name is written.

“Do you have a knife?” Sasha asks, coming to stand next to me.

I look over and then softly shake my head when I see him. He’s traded his black helmet for a skull mask. It’s highly detailed and perfectly done, clearly not some piece of shit rubber mask off the rack at some store. This thing looks custom made, and when he turns to face me, there’s just enough light from the streetlamp for me to see his light blue eyes.

“Sasha, I mean this in the best way possible, man, but you are a fucking freak.”

He laughs and smacks my back. “The mask scares the hell out of people. It’s a beautiful thing to see, Vitya. So, do you have a knife, or do you need to borrow one?”

I pull my own out, showing him the sharp blade, and he nods his approval. I can’t see his face, but I’m guessing he’s smiling behind his creepy mask. With weapons in hand but down at our sides, we walk to the front door. The neighborhood is rundown and empty. It’s not the kind of place that has a neighborhood watch, but that doesn’t mean we want to announce our plans to anyone who happens to see us.

The windows facing the street are covered with blinds, but I can see a hint of light around them. Sasha reaches out and quietly tries the doorknob, neither one of us surprised when it’s locked. Instead of kicking down the door and alerting everyone inside, we follow the overgrown path around the side and to the back. The chainlink fence that runs along the nearly nonexistent backyard is completely broken in several places, making it easy for us to step through. The ground feels frozen solid, but it hasn’t started snowing yet this year, so it’s nothing but dry, dead grass that looks like it hasn’t been cut in months.

I can feel Sasha’s excitement when he steps onto the small porch and finds the door unlocked. He looks back at me, makingsure I’m ready, and when I give him a quick nod, he silently opens the door and we both slip inside. The first thing I notice is the godawful smell of old food and underneath that is an indescribable smell of filth, the kind that can only be generated from months of living like an absolute slob. It makes my skin crawl, and when I look around the small kitchen, I’m not at all surprised to see several cockroaches scurrying over the dirty plates that are stacked haphazardly on the counter because the sink is already overflowing with them.

We walk down a dingy hall, hearing the indecipherable mutterings of a TV show and then a man’s laugh, the sound of it has Sasha freezing in place. He cocks his head, listening for more, and when nothing else happens, he starts walking again, creeping closer to the open doorway in front of us.

When we’re next to it, he peeks around the corner and then looks back at me. His mask looks downright eerie in the dim hall, and I’m glad that I’m not the one he’s going to be hunting through this house. He holds up one finger and then points to the living room, letting me know there’s just one man in there. Then he turns and heads for the set of stairs to our right. I’m not surprised that he’s going after the other two and leaving me with just one. Sasha’s greedy like that.

With my knife in hand, I take a steadying breath before peeking my head around the corner. This room is just as filthy as the rest of the house. Bags of takeout food litter the floor and couch, and the furniture either all came in the same shit-brown color, or it’s just turned that way from years of having unwashed bodies sitting on it. The man in the recliner is facing away from me, completely oblivious to the danger standing right behind him. I watch him scratch at his balls as he laughs at whatever show he’s watching.

I’m always amazed at how quickly a life ends. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. My brother’s was gone in a flash. One second he was here, laughing and smiling, and in the next moment he was dead in my arms. There was no warning, no sixth sense to let me know it was coming. He was just gone.

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