Page 37 of The Bratva Sinner

Mara’s face flashes through my mind. The way she looked at me, trusting me to save her. And I couldn’t.

I take a breath and force myself to think like the Sokolov I am instead of the man who just watched someone die.

“Call everyone,” I say finally. “I want every man we have ready to move in fifteen minutes.”

Damien pulls out his phone. “Where are we hitting?”

“The distribution house on Fifth. If they want to play dirty, I’ll show them what dirty looks like. Tell Sampson to get the box.”

He pauses. “Seriously?”

I stare back at him.

“Shit. This is going to be a long fucking day.”

The box is actually several crates filled with weapons from some of the bratva’s shipments. I’ve never needed the explosives and guns, but part of me knew that there might be a day I wanted them.

The compound transforms into organized chaos within minutes. Men appear from everywhere, checking weapons and loading vehicles. My security detail morphs into an army.

I wash Mara’s blood from my hands in the garage sink, watching the pink water swirl down the drain. It should be their blood. It will be.

“Ready.” Damien appears at my side. “We’ve got three vehicles and twelve men. Sampson’s driving lead.”

“Good.” I dry my hands and check my Glock. Full magazine. I grab a second one from the weapons box and tuck it into my waistband.

We pile into the vehicles. I take the passenger seat in the lead SUV. Sampson is behind the wheel. The man has seen real combat. This is just another day for him.

The distribution house is in a neighborhood that has seen better days. Warehouses and industrial buildings, most of them abandoned. Houses that haven’t been taken care of in decades. Perfect place for the Albanians to move product without drawing attention.

“Park one block out,” I tell Sampson. “We go in on foot.”

The vehicles stop. My men file out with their weapons ready. Twelve of us against however many they have inside. I’m too angry to care about the odds. I’ve got two grenades I plan to use.

Damien moves up beside me. “Two guards at the front. Probably more inside.”

“I’ll take the front. You take the back with half the men. Nobody leaves.”

He nods and disappears with six of our guys. I wait, counting down from sixty in my head. When I hit zero, I move.

The two guards at the front see us coming. One reaches for his weapon, and I shoot him before he clears the holster. The second one gets his gun up, but Sampson is faster. Two shots. Both guards down.

We’re through the door before the bodies hit the ground.

The inside is what I expected. Drugs everywhere. Tables covered in white powder, scales, and plastic bags. Four men scrambling for weapons. They’re too slow.

My men fan out with their weapons raised. “Nobody move!”

One of them doesn’t listen, moving for a shotgun that’s leaning against the wall. I put two rounds in his chest. He drops.

The others freeze.

“On your knees,” I order.

Damien appears through the back door, with three Albanians being pushed ahead of him at gunpoint. “All clear.”

I look around at the operation. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in product, maybe more. The Albanians will feel this.

One of the men on his knees speaks up. “You’re dead. Arlind will kill you for this.”