Page 21 of Never Distract a Biker

"Good," I say, stepping over my father’s body as though it’s just a log. "And send word to the goons. Igor's plane lands in six hours. Make sure he doesn't arrive at his home alive."

"Understood," Alek replies with a respectful bow.

I turn away, already thinking ahead. Igor Makarov will die today, and with him, any threat to my rule from the Makarov clan will fall, and the Sidorov name will reign supreme.

As I walk out of the room, the weight of the Bratva crown settles on my shoulders. Heavy, yet fitting perfectly. with the old fools out of the way, It's time to show the world the strength of young blood. The strength of Vovka Sidorov.

Feeling too excited to wait, I decide not to sit out the demise of Igor. It’s a scene I need to witness for myself. I watch from a distance, the tinted windows of my SUV shielding me from the unforgiving cold outside. Igor Makarov's car approaches, headlights piercing through the twilight haze. I lean back in my seat, an evil anticipation coiling in my gut like a serpent ready to strike.

"Are we ready?" I ask Alek, who sits next to me, his eyes fixed on the unfolding scene.

"Ready, Khan," he confirms, his voice steady as steel. The phone in his hand is a silent lifeline to the men lying in wait.

"Make the call."

Alek presses a button and speaks into the phone with lethal calm. "Now."

The attack unfolds like a brutal ballet choreographed to perfection. My men burst from their hiding spots, guns blazing, shattering the silence. Igor's car swerves, and the tires squeal in protest as they are forced off the road. There's a sickening crunch of metal as it collides with a tree.

"Out! Out!" I hear them shout over the noise.

The mighty Igor is dragged out from the wreckage, bloodied but unbowed. Even from this distance, I can see the fury etched on his face. He fights like a cornered animal, his fists connecting with jawbones, his legs kicking out with desperate strength.

"Come on, old man," I murmur, almost admiringly.

But Igor is outnumbered, and even the strongest lion cannot fend off a pack of hyenas forever. They swarm him, relentless and cruel. Every blow they land is an echo of my rage against the Makarov dynasty.

"Finish it," I command through gritted teeth, though only Alek hears me.

Alek nods once, solemnly, before stepping out of the vehicle. I remain seated, watching the final act unfold. He fires several shots and Igor Makarov—the greatpakhan—falls under the weight of his attackers, his legacy crumbling with him.

"Is it done?" I ask when Alek returns, but his expression is unreadable.

"It's done,Pakhan.I buried one in his skull to make sure of it."

"Good." My voice is ice. "No loose ends."

"None," he assures me.

The darkness grows around us, swallowing the remnants of twilight. The Makarov's time has ended. And mine? Mine has just begun.

Ah, life truly begins at forty.

9

Viktor

The buzzing of my phone shatters the silence of my dimly lit room. I glance at the screen and see Alina's name flashing at me. My pulse quickens as I answer.

"Viktor," she sobs, her voice laden with thick grief. "Otetsis dead," she whispers as if afraid to say it out loud.

What! Hell no!I scream in my head.

My heart plummets into an abyss, and a fierce chill envelops me. Grief wraps its icy fingers around my throat, but I do my best to stay calm.

"What happened?" My words are steel; they have to be. I listen, each detail etching deeper into my soul. He had been attacked, and his final moments were a brutal assassination.

"Who did this?" I demand, anger fueling my voice and the need for retribution burning in my chest.

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