“I’ll consider it but don’t push your luck. I know for a fact Katerina never gave extra vacation. What makes you think I would act any differently?”
The laugh that accompanied her words softened them by an iota. The mood had been practically jovial in Vorya since the news of so many of their enemies deaths. Her staff had done nothing to hide their emotions either and Viktoriya allowed it. Far be it from her to dampen their mood when the Russians had taken beating after beating for the past year and a half. Sveta, Katerina, Roman, herself. Celebrating the loss of French lives only seemed fitting.
Rising from her seat, the Kurylenko motioned for the rest to shut down for the night. The last of the patrons had left and her bed was calling her name. Grigoriy rose and followed her closely along with the two remaining B-girls who had been unlucky enough not to secure overnight customers. Zhanna wouldn’t be too happy with them but in the end it was really their loss. Their cut of the money would be far less for the night.
“You shouldn’t tease them like that.” Girgoriy’s admonishment was only halfhearted. The blonde knew he was enjoying himself just as much as she was, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
“But where is the fun in that? I have to…”
Her words were cut off by a sudden sharp pain radiating from her head, the roots of her hair to be more exact. She had heard nothing. No alarms had gone off, no warning shouts given, no guns fired to indicate self-defense.
The Kurylenko felt someone pull hard enough on her hair that it forced her body to comply. She felt a gun rest next to her ear and then the heat of it as it went off. Viktoriya watched, as if in slow motion, as Grigoriy’s face turned from a smirk to hardened stone. Watched as his hand twitched towards his gun, only to be shot himself.
What the fuck was happening?
Normally she would have spit some form of vitriol at her attackers. Some nasty quip to let them know they did not scare her. But they did scare her. All the American could think about was her time in that dark, dank cell half a year ago. The brand on her back was flaring up, screaming at her that it was happening all over again. The only thing she could think to do was stare blankly ahead.
A woman’s voice filtered in over the rest of the noise. She didn’t recognize it, nor did she recognize the man who was now collecting phones from her terrified staff. None of them were trained to fight. Her bodyguard and those at the doors were their only form of defense. In terms of safety, Viktoriya could not imagine a worse group to be in.
Grigoriy’s voice brought her back to the clusterfuck of a situation they were in, a stream of Russian swear words flowing from his mouth that would make most people blush. She locked eyes with him, pleading silently.
Once everyone was wrangled, Emilia made her move by forcing Viktoriya down on her knees in the center of the room. A firm grasp on her shoulder, finger nails pressing into the woman's skin.
"We won't be staying long," Emilia looked towards one of the french loyalist that had joined them on the job. "So let's make this quick. Who dies first, Viktoriya?"
Emilia felt Viktoriya's hesitation and looked towards Jean for a moment motioning for him to take her place to keep Viktoriya in her place. The transition was smooth and effortless as if they had worked together for years. The one thing Emilia had always admired about French loyalists was their trust in each other's movements.
Emilia left her position behind Viktoryia and went to one of the two B-girls inside the club. She was going to show the Russian that she wasn't playing around. Viktoryia was going to suffer as the french had, and it would be her hand.
"Since you won't choose, I will." The transition from her gun, which she tucked in her waistband, to the knife clipped to her belt had been smooth. Just as smooth as the knife that dragged around the neck of the B -girls neck. Nobody ever talked about the amount of force needed to slit somebodys throat but the small burn in her forearms reminded her that it wasn't an easy task. Emilia's eyes narrowed on Viktoriya.
"I said pick." While this time she debated, a choice was finally made, and Emilia fired a single round, killing them. Eventually, it was just the french, Viktoriya, and Grigoriy.
Emilia turned towards one of the french loyalist that were with them.
"Get starter." A silent nod from the loyalist caused him to disappear and start seeing the place up to burn. They were running out of time and Emilia wasn't going to waste it any longer. "There's no more choices, Vik this is the end of the line."
Emilia shot Grigoriy again, not enough to kill him but enough to keep him from moving. This one would stay alive for the fire. This one would burn within it.
"Start moving out," Emilia ordered the others before grabbing back a hold of Viktoriya. The loyalist had done an amazing job and the place was quickly starting to take fire around them. A smile pulled on her lips as she finally pulled Viktoriya to her feet. The heat from the flames causing her cheeks to warm up. Emilia once again handed her off for just a second before walking over to Grigoriy and dousing him with gasoline knowing the fire would get to him soon.
"You don't get to die today." She said as she started to drag her backward. When they were almost to the doors, the screams began. The pain that filled them caused an ache in a small part of her, but she pushed it down. Once they were outside, Emilia pushed Viktoriya to the ground. Emilia dropped down in front of her hand, gripping her face forcefully.
"Remember I'm the reason you're alive."
With that she gave the others the sign to move out and quickly because behind them the Russian establishment was becoming what would be the worse structure fire in the area in a while.
