Page 34 of Bratva Prince

Chapter Ten

The alley smelled ofrain, blood, and old garbage.

Graffiti crawled across the brick walls in layers of faded colors, gang symbols overlapping political slogans and obscene artwork.Water dripped steadily from a rusted fire escape overhead, splashing into puddles stained black beneath the weak glow of a broken streetlamp.

A body lay crumpled near a dumpster, still fresh.Dimitri studied the scene from the mouth of the alley without making a sound.Sergei Orlov stood over the corpse with a pistol hanging loosely in one hand.The dead man had taken a bullet through the forehead.It was a clean execution.

The victim’s name was Anton Sokolov.One of Sergei’s lieutenants.According to Volkov intelligence, Sokolov had been skimming money from several operations and feeding information to competitors.A traitor.

Dimitri felt no sympathy for him.In their world, betrayal usually ended exactly like this.What interested him more was the fact that Sergei had come personally, and alone.Well, almost alone.

He shifted his gaze to the rooftops surrounding the alley.He knew Orlov guards were nearby, hidden and watching, but Sergei had ordered them to maintain distance while he handled the execution himself.

An arrogant decision, and ultimately, a fatal one.Dimitri silently stepped forward, the same way he’d approached targets dozens of times before.His expensive shoes barely made a sound against the wet pavement.

Sergei remained oblivious.The older man was too busy staring at the corpse, too busy enjoying the lesson he’d just taught.Typical.The man had always loved demonstrations of power.

Dimitri continued walking.Twenty feet, then fifteen, and ten.He was finally close enough now to see the gray threading through Sergei’s dark hair, and the blood spatter on Sergei’s cuff.

A few days ago, his brothers had argued against this repeatedly.The memory surfaced unexpectedly.

“You don’t need to do this yourself.”Alexei had been standing behind his desk, looking annoyed, which meant he was worried.

“We have soldiers for a reason,” Maksim had pointed out.

Dimitri remembered leaning back in his chair, but he was completely serious.

“No.”

Alexei had sighed.

“Dimitri.”

“This is personal.”

Neither brother had liked that answer, but Maksim and Alexei didn’t argue after hearing it, because they understood.The attack on the estate, the assassin in his bedroom, and the wrecked car.