Page 103 of Lost to Thievery
I looked closer too. And gods, she was right. It was a man in a tux, standing on a pedestal, his arms stretched wide like a king welcoming his people.
No. He wasn’t standing. There were hooks through his palms, attached to cables, holding him upright. His head wasn’t human. It was a bronze sculpture with a sneering face. Behind the man was a large golden plaque, with the words from a poem I recalled reading once.
“My name is Ozymandias. King of kings. Look at my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Grayson arched a brow. “No cheers for the self-proclaimed king of kings?”
The crowd stayed quiet.
“Look at the tattoos on his hands,” Marshall stepped forward. “That’s Rurik. He casted the head of the Russian Mafia’s head in a bronze sculpture.”
I struggled to make sense of Marshall’s words.The head? Of the…
Oh, gods!I took a step backwards as if it could save me from seeing the truth.
The boss of the Bratva was on Grayson’s pedestal.
“What in the actual hell…” Syntax shuddered.
Hunter appeared beside Grayson. He helped Gemma climb the steps of the podium, kissing her hand adoringly as shereached the top. The three of them stared over the crowd, daring them to make a move, to say something.
“Who the fuck are these people?” Emerie hissed. “How can they dothatto the Bratva and live?”
Grayson was slowly pacing the perimeter of the podium, watching every face in the crowd, his body radiating a lethality that had me shuddering. His usual snarky, playful demeanour in situations like these, was gone. Replaced by a brooding, cunning quiet.
TherealGrayson.
“Anyone else want to claim supremacy over me?” He stopped in the middle of the stage when the crowd stayed silent. “I never gave a fuck about titles. But don’t mistake my apathy for weakness. You will burn in myhellbefore you even know I’m coming for you. Let theking of kingshere be your warning.”
With one last menacing glare over the crowd, the three of them disappeared behind the curtains, leaving everyone to stare at theirart.
The room was silent. Breathless.
Liam’s loud claps made me jump. “What a show!” he laughed. “Best auctionever!”
Then the footage cut out.
I looked at my team. No one moved. No one took their eyes away from the darkening wall.
This video did exactly what it was supposed to do.
They were scared. Even Owen looked bleak.
I turned around the room, speaking up into the air. “Is that it, Varon? You done bragging about howbigandpowerfulyou are?” I knew he was watching. He was always watching. “Why do you always have to be soloudabout it? Is it because you have a small dick? It’s the tiny dick, isn’t it?”
My team just stared at me for a while. Then Emerie chuckled. “They have surgeries for that now, you know?” she said into the air, giving me a wink.
Syntax stepped up beside us, her eyes twinkling with their usual mischief. “Yeah, like killing the Russian mob boss was a little dramatic, to be honest,” she chimed in, making Owen cough a laugh.
I shrugged dramatically. “But go off,king. Anything but therapy, I guess.”
The flight home was quiet. Per usual, we found zero forensic evidence at the church. It was like they’d set up the place with hazmat suits.
We had no idea why Grayson had killed the head of the Bratva, and I was pretty sure we wouldn’t find any other clues at the real auction location in Willsbury City.
It was a new puzzle piece that seemingly fit nowhere.
But the worst of all, was the suffocating air of defeat that lingered around the team. Their spirits were broken, their hopes stripped to the bone. And no one was admitting it out loud, but they were scared. We finally had a true glimpse behind Grayson’s veil, and the utter size of the monster we were facing had knocked the air from us.
