27

27


"Mikhail Volkov in flesh and blood," Viktor sneered, raising a glass of champagne in mock toast.

Mikhail stood up, reaching for the gun tucked away in his pocket. "The only thing we're toasting to is your death."

"You wouldn't," Viktor stared back at him, not flinching. He kept walking, stopping until he was right in front of Mikhail. His lips twisting into what wasn't quite a smirk. "Because then neither you nor your men would be walking out here alive."

He tilted his head to the side, his voice dropping to a mocking drawl. "And we both know how much you want to walk back home to your pretty wife. It would be a pity to die now."

Mikhail's jaw clenched. He pulled out his gun. In one swift motion, the cold muzzle was pressed against Viktor's chest, right above his heart, wiping the arrogant smirk off his face.

Viktor sucked in a breath, not expecting him to move so quickly.

Mikhail took a step forward, forcing him to step back. He was just barely aware of his surroundings, Daniel standing within ear's reach, hands in his jacket ready to pull out his gun at any moment, Viktor's bodyguards still at the foot of the stairs, guns raised already, poised to shoot but holding back.

None of that mattered.

Not when he had their boss at gunpoint.

He backed Viktor against the wall, leaning closer, his voice dripping with venom. "First, don't you fucking dare talk about my wife."

"What? You're gonna shoot me?" Viktor met his gaze, unfazed. "We both know you would have pulled the damn trigger a long time ago if you could."

Mikhail felt his blood rush, rage coursing through his veins. His mind raced, calculating every next step.

If he stepped back, Viktor's men would fire. And if he pulled the trigger like he goddamn wanted to, the men would also fire immediately.

And Viktor knew this. Staring back at him with that goddamn smirk that was designed to annoy him.

"How did you like my little present? I had to catch your attention, you know. You might have to sit down for the next part because Amy Williams and I have history," he continued.

Mikhail didn't give him the chance to finish. Pulling back from Viktor, he pulled the trigger four times.

The colour drained out of Viktor's face. He blinked, expecting himself to be dead, but he stood there perfectly fine. Instead, the two bodyguards dropped to the ground without a sound, unmoving, their shirts soaked red.

Viktor ducked for cover just as Mikhail shot again. The sound of his barrel echoed in the bar, followed by screams. An emergency alarm, the sound of people racing for cover.

The light blinked red, plunging a greater half of the large room into shadows.

"Move in," Mikhail yelled into his intercom, pulling up a table, drinks shattering to the ground in a loud crash, ducking just as a bullet sailed over his head.

Viktor's men were already in motion, trooping into the room.

He heard the bastard yell in Russian, but he was up on his feet immediately, moving into the shadows, firing his bullets with deathly precision.

"Boss!" Daniel appeared beside him, refilling a gun, his mouth drawn in a thin line. There was a cut across his lips, the sleeve of his left arm matted with red.

Mikhail didn't have the luxury of time to check if he had been caught in the fire. "There's too many of them," Daniel said, his eyes darting towards the exit.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance," Mikhail grimaced.

"Send backup," he instructed Daniel, his voice calm despite the chaos.

"I've tried," Daniel stared down at the phone in his hands.

"The door to the upstairs is sealed shut. We're trapped inside."

"Fuck," Mikhail cursed, pulling out another gun from his pocket. "Stick close. We're taking them all down."

They moved together, back to back, firing at the men.

Mikhail's eyes scanned through the men dressed in black, about 6 to 7, but Viktor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he spotted a back exit at the other side of the room, the door slightly ajar.

"The coward," he gritted his teeth.

"This way," nodding at Daniel, he moved, picking his way through the shattered glass on the floor, careful not to slip over the spilled drinks. The counter looked like it survived an avalanche, broken pieces of the stools scattered across it, the wall behind cracking in multiple places.

Mikhail was halfway across the room. A gunshot sounded behind him. A stabbing pain shot up his right arm, the gun clenched in it falling to the ground.

"Fuck, no..." He sucked in a deep breath, stumbling back from the pain as a masked figure surfaced, standing in front of him.

Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the nearest thing, an overturned table, with his left hand, crashing it against the man.

Daniel shot twice, the figure crumpling to the ground. "You good?" He put down his gun, a concerned look in his eyes.

"I'm fine, let's get the hell out of here," Mikhail stepped out through the back exit, Daniel following closely behind.

All the cars had disappeared from the driveway outside. The moon receded behind the clouds, the only light coming from the blinking red of the building.

The Velvet Chalice was a shadow of its former glory, completely deserted. The entrance was destroyed, glass doors broken.

But Mikhail felt only an ounce of satisfaction, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He had the gun pointed against Viktor's chest and he didn't shoot.

He was right. He couldn't.

But something even worse bothered him.

"...Amy Williams and I have history."

His blood rose just thinking back to Viktor's words. The adrenaline over, he felt his feet dragging, the pain in his right arm sharper than ever.

"There was no way someone like Amy had anything to do with a guy like Viktor," he muttered to himself, reaching the car. They were worlds apart.

But yet Viktor had known to go to him...

"The cops would be here any moment..." Daniel pulled open the door of the car, letting Mikhail inside.

Once safely inside, Mikhail tore off a piece of his shirt and, with Daniel's help, pulled out the bullet from his hand, stanching the wound.

"Send the men out. Tell the doctor to be at the mansion," Mikhail gave the command, his head resting against the headrest as the car went speeding down the lane.

Tonight was supposed to go smoothly, but Viktor knew all his moves. He clenched his fist. Too predictable, too blinded by his own anger, but the loss had been heavy on Viktor's side as well.

They were even, and the real war was about to start.

It was far into the night when they got back to the mansion.

Mikhail stepped inside, about to make way straight for the stairs when he stopped, his eyes resting on the petite figure curled up against the couch, her chin propped up with her hand in what had to be an uncomfortable position, a book resting open beside her.

"Amy..." What the hell was she doing here at 2 a.m. in the night...

Then it hit him.

She must have fallen asleep waiting for him.

His eyes softened. He took a step closer, then stopped himself. She couldn't see him, not like this.

Amy stirred once. Her eyes fluttering open. "Mikhail?" She called out sleepily.