I know instantly what the two of them will choose. They know that I will be the death of their ambitions, whereas Budimir will grant them free rein and a third of the profits.
They’re with him.
That leaves ten men remaining against the five of us. Two against one.
Every man in the room is doing the math in his head. Calculating angles and odds, figuring out which narrow path leads to survival—and to victory.
But not me.
I did all that months ago, up on that frigid mountaintop. Every time I ran until my lungs bled or heaved boulders until I couldn’t lift a finger more, I was practicing for this. Preparing for this.
And the answer has not changed.
Everyone moves at once. My men hurl the trolley carts towards the remaining bodyguards and unsheathe their weapons.
Gunfire blasts through the air as Budimir’s guards, as well as Kovar’s and Bufalino’s, jump into the fray.
I hear someone grunt in pain and then I hear a yell, but I don’t take my eyes off my uncle, who is standing behind his largest bodyguard.
The fucker hasn’t been in a real fight for a long while now. He always shied away from the actual battles. Considered himself above them, like the king who sends his army in while he sits comfortably up in his castle watching the whole thing unfold.
I can sense his panic from here.
Fucking coward.
My only goal is to get as close to him as possible. I want to see the life drain from his fucking face when I do what I came here to do.
I feel the screaming brush of wind next to my ear. I’ve narrowly missed a bullet aimed at my head, but I don’t feel panic or fear.
I never have.
This is what I was born to do.
And if I die, it will be a glorious fucking death.
Except the moment the thought enters my head, I chase it right back out again. This isn’t like any other fight I’ve ever been in.
I can’t die. Not this time.
Esme needs me. My son does, too.
So it’s not fear that I feel.
It’s duty.
I duck low and vault over the sofa that stands between me and the towering bodyguard protecting Budimir.
I fire at him, but he’s pushes Budimir to the side and jumps in the opposite direction.
My path towards my uncle is clear, but the bodyguard decides to be a fucking hero. He starts firing, forcing me to take cover.
I’m aware of the sounds of gunfire and fighting behind me, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than finishing Budimir once and for all.
If I lose now, my men will certainly die. But if I can just get my hands around his throat, that will end it for everyone. Kovar and Bufalino will scatter to the wind. The Bratva will be back where it belongs.
All I have to do is…
“Fuck!”