Chapter 5 - The Red Star Falls
Volkov backed away until his spine hit the reinforced glass window overlooking the rainy riverfront. The arrogance that usually surrounded high-level syndicate bosses had vanished, replaced by the primitive dread of a man trapped in a small room with an apex predator.
"Salvatore, let's talk like business men," Volkov rasped, holding his hands up, his fingers trembling slightly. "Marco came to me! He told me he was taking over your organization. He said you were getting old, soft! I just funded a business venture!"
"You funded the murder of a child," I said.
"It was an accident!" Volkov yelled, echoing Marco's pathetic defense. "The girl was in the wrong place! I told Marco to handle it cleanly, not to hit her with a damn car!"
"You ordered a hit on a seven-year-old because she saw your face," I corrected. "There is no 'cleanly' when it comes to children, Nikolai. You brought war to my city, you corrupted my men, and you buried an innocent girl."
"I have two hundred men in this city!" Volkov spat, trying to regain his posture, his eyes flashing with desperate venom. "If I don't leave this building alive, my organization will tear your territory apart! They'll burn your restaurants, your docks, your family!"
I looked down at Bruno. The dog was standing rooted to the rug, his muscles quivering with built-up tension, waiting for the one word he had been trained to execute since he was a pup.
"Your men won't do anything, Nikolai," I said coldly. "Because by midnight tonight, my captains will have swept every single one of your safehouses. You're isolated. You're finished."
Volkov's hand suddenly darted toward a hidden button under the lip of his desk—a panic alarm to summon the guards from the club below.
"Bruno. Take him."
The command was barely out of my mouth before Bruno launched himself across the mahogany desk.
The heavy wood tilted and crashed to the floor, sending cash, ledgers, and crystal glasses flying. Bruno slammed into Volkov with the force of a battering ram, throwing the Russian boss through the reinforced glass window behind him.
The glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Volkov screamed as he fell outward, plunging two stories down into the dark, icy waters of the East River below.
Bruno stood at the edge of the broken window, looking down into the churning water, barking furiously into the rain until the dark figure disappeared beneath the current.
I walked over to the edge, looking down. The river was black, cold, and unforgiving. Volkov wouldn't be swimming out of that jacket, not with a broken ribs and a ten-pound weight of tailored wool dragging him down.
Tony walked into the room, stepping over the fallen guards. He looked at the shattered window, then at me. "It's done, Boss. The club floor below is secured. Volkov's inner circle is neutralized."
"Clean the building," I commanded, pulling a cigar from my pocket and lighting it amidst the smell of cordite and rain. "Burn the ledgers. Take the cash. We're leaving."
"And the rest of the Russian syndicate?" Tony asked.
"They'll get the message," I said, looking out at the city skyline. "Anyone who touches a child in my city dies. Simple as that."
I turned back to Bruno. The dog walked over to me, panting slightly, his dark eyes clear and calm for the first time since we walked into Elena's funeral three days ago. The wild, vengeful fury in him had settled. He had fulfilled his duty. He had protected the memory of the little girl who could no longer protect herself.
I knelt down on the ruined carpet, ignoring the blood and broken glass, and pulled his massive head into my chest.
"Good boy, Brun," I whispered, my voice thick with emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel until now. "Good boy."
He leaned his heavy weight into me, letting out a long, quiet huff of relief.
May you like
We walked out of the Red Star into the pouring rain. The street war was over before it could truly begin, crushed by the absolute loyalty of a dog who saw through the lies of men. But as we got into the back seat of the SUV, I knew our work wasn't entirely finished.
There was still one final piece of business left to settle—a debt that couldn't be paid with violence, but with something far more difficult.
