Page 39 of The Bratva Sinner

“He’s going to want to know,” Damien warns.

The adrenaline is wearing off. The pain in my shoulder sharpens from a dull ache to something more insistent. My calf is throbbing. I look down and see blood seeping through my pants.

Lila’s face flashes through my mind. The way she looked at me with fear and accusation. Like I’m the monster.

Maybe I am.

I just killed at least six men. This is who I am. This is what I do.

“Next house,” I say.

“Fuck, Maksim, do you plan on burning down the city?”

“No, just his house.”

I can feel my men’s eyes on me, but no one speaks. They know better. This is a side of me I rarely let the world see. But it’s part of who I am, and it always will be.

My phone rings as we pull away from the second hit. Of course, it’s Nikolai. News travels fast. Apparently, across the country. I stare at the screen for a moment before answering.

“Brother.” I keep my voice neutral.

“What the fuck are you doing?” No preamble. “I just got a call that you’re burning down Albanian operations across the city.”

“Only two.”

“Maksim.” His voice drops to a deadly calm that means he’s really pissed. “You hit two of their distribution houses in less than an hour. You killed at least eight of their men. You’re starting a war.”

“I’m finishing one they started.”

“Over a woman.” He knows. I glance at Damien, who shrugs. Damien is loyal to the bratva first and me second. “You’re doing this over some girl who doesn’t even like you.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? One of your women is dead because Arlind is retaliating.” He pauses. “This is reckless, even for you.”

“They killed Mara.”

“And how many more will die before you’re done? Have you talked to Sergei?”

“No. He’s busy with the twins.”

Nikolai laughs joylessly. “You think Sergei doesn’t know? Come on, Maksim. We both know he has eyes everywhere. He probably knew about your crusade before I did.”

I lean my head back against the seat again. My shoulder is screaming. “I’m asking you to keep this between us for now.”

“Between us.” He scoffs. “You’re asking me to lie to our pakhan about a war you’re dragging us all into.”

“I’m asking you to give me time to handle this.”

“Handle it how? By burning down every Albanian operation until Arlind comes for your head?”

“I’ll handle Miami. Always have.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He hangs up.

I sigh and lean back.