Page 57 of Silver Sinner

Green grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks my head upward, then slams his fist into my face again and again. Three solid punches send me back into a dazed, pained state and I groan through a mouthful of blood, blinking slowly.

"Tell me where the fucking money is," snarls the voice again. "And we'll make this quick. We don't hurt the kid if you just tell us!"

My vision blurs and darkens. Pain throbs through my entire face and Maddie's terrified yells suddenly muffle. I can't think. I can't speak. I can barely breathe through the blood stuffing my nose.

"Come on, bitch!" the man yells. His next punch renders me unconscious.

I wake with a jolt almost immediately, although the dried blood tight on my face and the fact that I'm now in the kitchen tell me it's been some time. Blinking owlishly, I lick my lips and wince as the iron tang of blood comes back at me and my teeth graze against a wound inside my cheek. My hands are raised above me, bound with something tight and thin that cuts into my skin when I try to pull free. I'm tied to the door of the oven and it shudders as I tug against it.

My apartment is dark and quiet.

Not a sound.

No screaming. No yelling.

Have they left me here? What the fuck even happened? Is this Trik? If he's making good on his threat, why were they asking me for money?

My answer comes a moment later when the noise my movements created against the oven door draws one of the men into the kitchen. He's tall and broad with a bright yellow ski mask covering his face. Next is the blue mask, shorter than the yellow, and slimmer too. He follows and leans against the table with his arms crossed until the man in the green mask stomps in with heavy footfalls and a grunt.

"Watch the kid," he barks at the blue masked man, who shrugs one shoulder and vanishes out of the kitchen.

"No," I croak, shaking my aching head. "Don't… don't you dare touch my daughter. If you've hurt her, I swear to God…"

Green laughs and walks forward, crouching down to his haunches in front of me and grabbing a handful of my hair. He jerks my head back and I gaze up into the shining bug lenses covering the eye holes. Forced to breathe through my mouth thanks to my busted nose, I gasp in pain only to choke a second later when he shoves the barrel of a gun into my mouth.

The metal scrapes my teeth and something sharp stabs into the roof of my mouth while the smooth barrel rests cold and hard against my tongue. Fear grips me so fiercely that it's like my entire body has locked up and is being twisted tighter and tighter. I'm either going to puke or shit myself from how frantically my heart pounds.

"We'll keep it simple," Green sneers. "Tell us where the fuck you're hiding your stash, and I won't blow your brains all over your kitchen, understand?"

20

PIERCE

Pavel Barsukov stands before me, only a handful of years older than me, and yet he wears them heavily. Deep-set wrinkles carve around his face in frown lines grown from decades of sour expression, thinning gray hair struggles to cling to his ashen skin decorated with sunspots, and teeth warped with age and poor hygiene peek out from a thin upper lip. His suit stretches around his rotund body, and yet, despite his visible aging and weight gain, the muscle strain at his neck and in his meaty fists is unmistakable.

That's how he's held onto power for so long. He's old, but his son is reckless, and Pavel can still beat most men to death with those fists.

I glance at Moses, who stands to my left. He meets my gaze and I lift my brow with a teasing you'll look like that if you keep frowning so much glance. Moses merely deepens his glare in response, then turns his attention back to the meeting.

Adrian leads, standing just in front of me with one hand in his slacks’ pocket. The other weaves back and forth while he spins the bullshit we agreed upon on the drive over.

"As you can see, our actions against the gang were nothing more than mopping up some overspill that wouldn't have happened if they'd simply been more careful where they chose to swipe cars from. I understand that their business was making a lot of money for the Krakov family, though it's not in my purview to fully understand why used-car parts are such a lucrative business. Then again, we have little time for miniature ventures such as that." Adrian takes a deep breath as his thin insult fills the air and Pavel's eye twitches.

"Miniature?" he spits. "How dare you stand there and dictate what is and isn't important? Your values hold little meaning to us because we value loyalty. From the top dog down to the very bottom of the barrel. Everyone is protected under us, so when your Irish fucks stomp all over the hard work of my people, I don't care how miniature the venture is. You killed my men. My people."

Adrian remains as calm as ever. "What were their names?"

"Excuse me?"

"The men we killed. Which one was so dear to you that war is your only solution?"

Pavel's face darkens as if the lights behind his eyes have gone out. "I will not sully their name by spouting it to you!"

He doesn't know. We all know that, and yet he'll claim to know otherwise with every last breath he has. This chance to pin us down and squeeze us isn't something Pavel will let go in a hurry. This same discussion has been raging on for an hour, and I'm bored with it. All that's become clear is that Pavel is starved for reputation with the Italians ravaging his territories and in his eyes, we're the payday.

It's a stretch, but is this what brought Trik to Layla's door? We cleaned up that garage well, but if he learned anything about Layla's car, it would explain why he went to see her. Given Trik's reputation though, it's not something she would walk away from alive. Even if that was the case, why would she invite him inside?

I mull it over, counting the men Pavel's brought with him and how their numbers pale in comparison to mine. Another reason Pavel's never been able to launch a full attack against me over ego. Adrian and Pavel's discussion remains much the same, with thin insults tossed back and forth while Pavel claims that this small street gang is hugely important to him, and Adrian maintains that their work in our territory makes them free real estate.