Page 124 of Legacy
When it’s over, I toss the bat to the floor and wash my hands in the rust-stained sink while Maksim wipes his blade on the guy’s shirt like it’s just another Tuesday.
Footsteps echo down the hall. Nico appears first, Gio trailing behind him. Both in black, both calm like they’ve done this a hundred times.
Because we have.
Nico nods at the body. “You want us to dump or burn?”
“Burn,” Maksim answers flatly.
Gio hums in acknowledgment and the two of them get to work. Efficient. Silent.
I dry my hands and glance at Maksim. “Bar?”
He doesn’t answer. Just starts walking.
We head back to the bar above, the scent of antiseptic and blood giving way to lemon cleaner and soft traces of perfume. Even empty, Opulent is still lit like a dream—dim lights glowing off the mirrored shelves, red velvet catching the light.
We slide onto the stools without a word. Maksim reaches behind the bar and pours us both a bourbon like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
I down the first one in a single swallow.
“How’s the wife?” Maksim asks, his grin sharp beneath that damn glint of metal in his brow.
I scoff. “Ignoring me.”
His brows lift, the amusement plain. “Really? Already fucked it up?”
He knocks back his drink and pours himself another, shoulders loose. “Don’t know why you wanted to tie yourself down to that shit.”
“She’s not a tie-down,” I mutter, voice low. “She’s a hurricane. And I walked right into it.”
Maksim chuckles under his breath but doesn’t press. He knows how to read the line. Usually.
Until Rachel saunters over.
Pretty redhead, sad eyes, found in a shipping container at the docks smuggled in. Trafficked.
Now she does this. Flirts, with everyone.
Anyone.
She smiles at me hips swaying a little too deliberately, mouth glossed just enough to catch the light, eyes full of whatever story she’s trying to sell that day.
“Morning, boys,” she purrs, leaning on the bar right between us. Her eyes settle on me, like they always do now that Santo is married. “You look tense Angelo.”
“Morning,” I say without looking at her.
She keeps going. Her hand sliding up the bar towards mine. “I could help you unwind, you know. I’m very good with knots.”
Maksim doesn’t even blink. “You offering your mouth?”
I shoot him a sharp look, my tone immediately dropping. “Maksim.”
His smirk fades just enough, and Rachel, wide-eyed now, straightens up.
Fear.
The same reaction he gets from most women not crazy enough to take him on.
