Their replies are instantaneous. They are as thirsty as I am for vengeance on this biker filth. I smile asmy phone dings again and again with pledges of loyalty. Yes, there will be blood.
Blood of the filth that oppose us. And of their leader, too, this mysterious motherfucker who thinks hecan try to kill me and get away with it. Who thinks that even the tiniest splinter of this city is his.
He has never been more wrong. It’s mine—all of it. And he’s about to learn exactly what happens tothose who f**k with Gavril Vaknin’s Bratva.
Ludmil’s reply comes last, in the form of a call. I’m already on my way to meet the men atheadquarters.
“All good about Damon,” he says, then pauses. “Boss?”
“No. It’s past time that we did this.”
“This is why they’ve been getting bolder—
