Chapter 10 - The Retaliation|
Igor stared at the silver coin, his heavy brow furrowing in a mixture of surprise and anger. The music around us seemed to muffle, the tension in the VIP booth thick enough to cut with a knife. His bodyguards stepped forward, but a sharp gesture from Igor halted them.
"Sebastian Vale," Igor sneered, his thick accent rolling over the syllables. "We heard you went soft. Playing house on the mountain while you pretend to be a legitimate businessman."
"Legitimacy doesn't mean weakness, Igor," I replied evenly, not breaking eye contact. "It means I have more to lose, and consequently, I will fight much harder to keep it."
Igor chuckled, a dry, grating sound. "Viktor will be amused. But your threats mean nothing. The old empire is crumbling. You cannot protect the ports and your precious family at the same time."
Before I could respond, the front doors of the club burst open. A scream echoed over the heavy bass track as half a dozen armed men wearing dark ski masks flooded the dance floor. Panic erupted.
"Ambush!" Marcus yelled, drawing his weapon.
"They're not my men!" Igor shouted, looking genuinely panicked as bullets began shattering the glass of the VIP booth.
I tackled Igor to the ground as a spray of gunfire shredded the leather sofa where he had just been sitting. We were caught in the crossfire of a third party. Someone else was making a play for the city, using the tension between Vale and Volkov as a smokescreen.
"Move!" I barked to my team. "Through the kitchens!"
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We scrambled backward, laying down suppressive fire. I hauled Igor up by his collar. "You're coming with us. If we leave you, they'll kill you and blame it on me, igniting a full-scale war."
We burst through the kitchen doors, the screams of the club-goers fading behind the roar of automatic weapons, stepping into a much larger, deadlier game.
