I saw a flash of fire from the other man in the car before Oleg went down beside me and I fired, seeing Nikolai fall out of the open door a moment later, his gun sprawling onto the ground a few inches away.
“Don’t fucking shoot me!” Konstantin yelled as he climbed out of the car, his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed!”
I looked over at Oleg as the remaining men swarmed the Krasnaya brigadier, finding him holding his hand against his shoulder. “It’s just a graze,” he replied, wincing. “Fucking burns, man.”
I walked over to Konstantin, letting my AK hang at my side. He had blood on his forehead but looked otherwise unharmed. “Kirilenko,” he regarded me with a nod as I stood before him.
“I need to hear from you,” I stated. “That you are working with the FBI, specifically Jon Hampton.”
“Right to the point,” Konstantin said, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I can’t say I blame you. If I was up against an FBI agent, I would be concerned as well.”
I grabbed the front of his shirt with my hand, bringing him close to my face. “Tell me.”
“Fine,” he ground out. “He offered me and my men clemency in exchange for killing your ass and bringing him the woman.”
Just as I thought. I released him and stepped back, smoothing my hair back with my hands. “You’re a fucking traitor. You turned your back on the law of thieves.” I didn’t give a shit that he’d turned his back on me and mine, but Konstantin had turned traitor the moment that he had broken the old code, the thieves’ code. It was well known from the old days that no Mafia Don, Pakhan, or otherwise would work with the government authorities to gain an advantage over his enemy. It was considered the ultimate act of betrayal, and no one ever lived because of it.
“I did,” Konstantin replied with a heavy sigh. “But I’m willing to die with honor.”
I arched a brow. “How?”
The older brigadier swallowed, acceptance in his eyes. “I have one final piece of information that you will be interested in, Pakhan.”
He didn’t look like he was fucking with me, and in his position, I doubted that he would be. Konstantin was going to die by my gun, and he knew it. He had nothing else to lose. “What will you ask for in return?”
“I’m a simple man.” Konstantin straightened, his jaw clenching. “All I ask for is a clean death. Do not drag out my life any longer than I have.”
It was my turn to clench my jaw. I wanted to torture the fucker for what he had done to me and mine, for how he had destroyed every plan I had for the union of both Bratvas and caused this shit around us. He didn’t deserve a clean death, but why did it matter anyway? I had destroyed the Bratva that dared to try and rise up against me.
His death wasn’t going to bring Anatoly back, nor was it going to give me what I wanted.
Or maybe it would. “All right,” I finally said. “I will give you a clean death. What do you need me to know?”
Something akin to relief reflected in his eyes. “Hampton has not said a word to the FBI yet.”
It only took me a moment to realize what he was saying. Today wasn’t about the FBI coming after me. This was all about the Krasnaya Bratva trying to clean up Hampton’s shit.
It was good news, very good news, on my behalf.
“If you want to get out of this shit clean,” Konstantin continued. “Then you will go to his apartment and destroy all the evidence that he has on you and your wife before it’s too late. His address is in my phone here.”
I took the sleek phone, turning the screen on and noting that he didn’t have it protected. He’d planned on losing today. Somewhere deep inside of my heart, there was a begrudging respect for Konstantin.
Tucking the phone into my cargo pocket, I gave him a sharp nod. “Give Orlov my fucking regards when you see him.”
The older man chuckled as I raised my gun to his forehead. “We will keep a seat warm for you, Gavrushka.”
I smirked before I put a bullet through his brain, turning and walking away before he could fall to the ground. It was over.
The Krasnaya Bratva was no more.
“Gather the dead,” I told the remaining men around me. I had started with twenty strong, and only five remained. “And the injured. Anyone that is able to survive the car ride, take them to the surgeon. Everyone else goes to the cleaners.” It was standard for us to stay the hell away from any doctor’s office or hospital.
Instead, I had a few trauma surgeons on standby in a custom-built operating room near the city. They would patch the guys up, and the rest, well, they would be disposed of at a local funeral home. I had no allegiance to getting them back to their families, but they would be taken care of regardless.
Oleg joined my side as we walked down the driveway, littered with bodies from both sides. Pavel was the first brigadier I found, bleeding heavily from his thigh.
“Chyort voz mi,” he breathed as I stripped off my vest so that I could remove my shirt and place it on his shaking fingers. “I’m losing a shit ton of blood.”