Glazov

I haven’t told my wife, but I love doing shit like this. Infiltrating the enemy’s camp, and planting surveillance right under their noses, is a fucking adrenaline rush that I love. I’ll never tire of the feeling.

We make our way into the west end area of Louisville, Kentucky. The house where the woman is being held is right next to a pool hall where I assume the other gang members must be. After all, they own it. Ricardo informed me of the details when I spoke to him. It will come in handy when I have their main headquarters blown off the map with all their members in it. We are hidden in the brush that surrounds the house, and the gang members haven’t even bothered to pull the blinds or shut the window where the woman is being held. Dumb-asses. Judging by the unprofessionalism I’ve already noted, it should be easy to plant the surveillance.

One of my men creeps over to peek inside one of the windows, trying to gather Intel on what we’re up against. He reports back that the bastards have her locked in a cage like an animal. She’s bound, gagged, and only has dog dishes for food and water. I know, in that moment, that I’m not going to be able to leave her here as planned. Judging by the look on Nikita’s face, he feels the same way. Those dog dishes aren’t sitting well with either of us.

I’m all about kink, but degrading a woman against her will pisses me off. No doubt, the poor girl is scared to death, and I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror if I leave her here to endure further torment. Knowing they plan to kill her in a snuff film just so sickos can watch it on the Internet makes me feel physically ill.

The new plan is for Nikita to get through the window and get the girl. We’ll make sure the one guard on duty doesn’t catch on to what we’re doing. If anybody can pick the lock on that cage, it’s Nikita. From the time he was a small boy, I have taught him all the skills he might need to confront an enemy. My sons, as well as my daughter, have been taught everything I know to prepare them for the life of violence they will live because they were born Bratva.

I creep around the side of the house and head toward the front porch. There’s only one man standing just outside the door. He’s smoking a joint and talking shit to a woman on his cell phone—so far so good. As long as I can hear his voice, I know my son is okay.

This isn’t how I planned on things going down, but knowing she’s being fed using dog dishes was just too much, even for seasoned criminal like me.

Everything is fine until the son of a bitch says he needs to go check on something. Though he doesn’t come right out and say where he is going, I’m not taking any chances. I can only hope my son has had enough time to get the girl out of that fucking cage. Seeing that nobody has sent me a text, I know I need to move quickly.

When he turns to make his way back into the house, I come up behind him, unsheathing the knife I keep on my upper arm.

“Where you going, big boy?” I hiss as I grab him around the neck.

He struggles under the tight grip of my forearm. I have two choices: I can slice his throat right now, or I can leave him at the mercy of his crew. My sadistic side wins out… There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll be killed when the girl’s escape is discovered. With surveillance set up, I will be able to watch the bastard die at the hands of his own men. These lowlifes have been kidnapping and killing women; I would love to see them pay for their crimes. Right now, though, I need to concentrate on rescuing the girl. I squeeze down on the artery that pumps blood to his brain, and he crumples to a heap at my feet.

I turn just in time to see my guys pull up in the van, and I jump in—perfect timing. We will all live to fight another day. Hell, we have even rescued the woman. She will still have to remain under our watch for a while; I’m not taking any chances that she’ll run her mouth to the authorities. I don’t want this gang of animals locked up in jail before I can see, at least, some of them dead. I know a man who will be perfect for what I have in mind because he has no desire to be indebted to me. I plan on making this work to my benefit in more ways than one. What most people don’t realize is that, depending on who is locked up, gang members can be just as dangerous behind bars as they are on the streets. The right leader can still issue orders, and their men are loyal enough to still carry out those orders on the outside. The world will be much better off without these guys in it, but I’d rather see them self-destruct than take them out myself, and it’s going to take some planning on my part to make that happen.

After seeing my plan through, I’ll eventually blow the whole lot of them up in that pool hall they own, but first, I want to watch them take apart that guard who was on duty—piece by piece. Yeah, I’m a sadistic bastard at heart.