Chapter Thirty-Seven-Nico Jr
They think I’m broken.
That just because I’m bloodied and bruised, chained to a rusted-out pipe in some hellhole halfway across the world, I’m finished.
Fools.
I spit blood onto the dirt floor and bare my teeth in a grin that’s more threat than smile.
The copper taste sharpens my fury.
Good.I want them afraid.I want them nervous.
They should be.
“Give us the details of this project!”one of them barks, his accent thick, his trigger finger twitchy.“Who is in charge?Names!”
I lift my head slowly, stare straight into the weasel’s beady little eyes.
“I told you already,” I rasp, voice raw but unyielding.“I’min charge.You fucking know it.Now tell me, who is your commanding officer?”
Another one steps forward, bigger, dumber.Tries to play the tough guy.
“You rich bastards think you can walk in here and steal our land.Fucking Volkovsthink they own everything.This isourcountry?—”
“My name isn’t Volkov,” I growl, and the chain clinks as I shift just enough to let them see the fire in my eyes.“It’sFury.”
Their flinch is almost imperceptible.But I catch it.
Good.
I lean forward, ignoring the stab of pain in my ribs.
“So unless you want to be wearing your balls as a necklace, get your boss in here.Now.”
They murmur to each other in hushed voices, arguing in their language, deciding whether to test me again.
Let them.
I’m watching.Counting exits.Marking their rotations.
Logging how many times the guy with the limp passes by the rear entrance and how long the outer perimeter is left unguarded while they smoke their shitty black-market cigarettes.
They think I’m just a spoiled Western businessman.A name on a contract.
But I’m not.
I’m aViper.
And soon, these motherfuckers are going to learn exactly what that means.
Footsteps.Heavier than the others.Purposeful.
The guards snap to attention.
That’s him.
The one they’ve been waiting on.The one they’re afraid of.