“On the contrary. We can take them out when they’re gathered in one place.”
A slow grin stretches his lips. “I knew you were my favorite. When do we start?”
“Patience, Niko.”
“That word doesn’t belong in my limited vocabulary.”
Don’t I know it.
It’s why I’ve been deliberately keeping Nikolai as far away from strategic planning as possible. At least until the actual action starts.
We both belong to the Russian Bratva in New York. Our parents are the current leaders and we’re expected to take their positions one day.
When that day comes, Nikolai and I will support each other, as we’re currently doing.
I don’t want to make an enemy out of him or else he’d get one of us killed in the blink of an eye. And if he festers in his bloodlust, no one will be able to pull him out of it.
“Should we report this to headquarters?” he asks.
Headquarters, as in, his parents or my father. If they find out the Serpents, whose leaders are the offspring of men who sit with them at the inner circle table, are after us, they won’t let this slide.
It might even develop into an inner war. And there’s no more efficient way to break a strong organization than inner conflict.
The Serpents know this as well as we do, but they apparently don’t give a fuck as long as they get what they want.
And what they want is to eliminate me and Nikolai before we inherit our birthright positions.
What’s better than offing another leader? Doing it before he fully comes into power.
“Why get our folks involved when we can take care of them ourselves?” I throw the helmet that has fallen beside me at Niko and he catches it with a wide grin before he straps it on.
“Wise words. Wise words.”
“Just tone it down a notch.”
“Fuck no. I need my dose of adrenaline.”
“The initiation was a week ago. That amount of adrenaline should’ve lasted you at least two weeks.”
“Didn’t even get me through the night.”
“Despite all the hunting?”
“And punching and kicking and even headbutting.” He lifts his hands and stares at them under the dusk’s light. “None of it is enough. That energy is pulsing in my veins like a ghost. Or a demon. And it needs to be let out. Don’t you have moments like that?”
“No,” I say assertively as I shove my helmet in place.
“Ehh. Is that why you didn’t sleep that night? Or the night of the party?”
“I don’t sleep.” Much.
“Uh-huh.”
“What the fuck is uh-huh supposed to mean?”
He tilts his head slowly, maniacally. “I say, there’s more to it than you’re letting on.”
“Are you going to ride or should I leave you behind?”
“Riding, riding. Christ. Did getting hit on the head make you lose your manners?”
I forgot about that.
Despite the dull ache on my temple and the now probably dried-up blood. It has to do with the strange tolerance to pain I’ve had since I was a kid.
It came after a lot of nightmares.
Which is also behind my lack of sleep.
The engine of my bike revs, then I hit the road. Nikolai follows right after me.
Out of the Heathens’ members, we’re the only two who like being in the wind. Since the road we’re taking is on the seaside, we breathe the salty air that seeps beneath the helmets.
Nikolai flings both his arms wide like the crazy motherfucker he is. Sometimes, it’s like he has a death wish. Wishes, to be more specific.
After a few moments of peace, I go at a supersonic speed, riding wide fucking open.
This is where I find calm. Where everything fades into the background and only my physical body exists.
This is where I go to clear my head and prepare for the next steps to take and the people to eliminate.
I learned early on that power isn’t handed to you. You snatch it, and if you have to bleed for it, then so be it.
Power is a wild horse that’s only tamed by the strongest.
Which is what I am. In every aspect. Aside from my family and the people who will rule by my side, everyone else is a pawn on the map of my path to the throne.
And that path is paved with thorns, betrayals, and destruction. People way older and more experienced than me have tried and failed to come out on top.
Some lost their lives for it, too.
But I have the advantage of being born into this world. Of witnessing how it breaks people and never allows them to put themselves together again.
I’ve become immune to its monstrosity, adjusted to its requirements, and gotten used to its workings.
Which is why I’m taking it one step at a time.
Patience might not be Nikolai’s favorite word, but it’s one of my principles.
Patience and the sheer power of my persistence can get me anywhere.
And knowledge. As my father taught me.
Information is sharper than any weapon, and if you have it in your arsenal, no one will be able to cross you.
This is why I have eyes and spies wherever my enemies exist.
Namely, with the Serpents and the Elites.
One would argue that the Elites have nothing to do with us. They have no criminal background, are posh kids with dull British manners, and belong to a completely different world.
But those who appear to be the least dangerous are the ones we should look out for the most.
The Elites might not belong to any mafia, but they remain a secret order of a greater game. Something nefarious happens behind the scenes of that club, and it’s only a matter of time before I find out what it is. I’ll uncover their plots and why they antagonize both the Heathens and the Serpents for sport, despite knowing our background.
They’re too cunning for their own good. Or their leader, Landon, is. Which is why I’ve been keeping him in my sights for years.
It’s been fucking years and I still know next to nothing about him aside from his family background and that he’s obsessed with sculpting.
From the outside looking in, he’s a respectable man with genius artistic skills and a bright future ahead of him. He’s perfected that image so well that no one dares to suspect he’s hiding a much darker version of himself.
Since I haven’t uncovered anything about him, I’ve been watching the weakest links in his life.
His siblings.
That hasn’t produced anything either since they stay as far away from his business as possible. I had to gradually back off from Glyndon since Killian is sort of obsessed with her.
His twin brother, Brandon, is useless. For now. That might change, which is why I’m not letting him out of my sight.
As a last resort, we sent invitations to the initiation to those in his closest circle in an attempt to get them into the Heathens and then use them against him.
As expected, none of them showed up.
However, I was informed by security that Creighton King’s invitation was scanned.
As in, Landon’s second cousin, Creighton, who’s a fighter and never wanted to join the Elites.
But Creighton was nowhere to be seen. The one who used his invitation was none other than an annoying existence.
A boring existence.
An existence that shouldn’t have gotten my attention.