The Russian Roulette [The Mafia Chronicles #2]

Chapter XXVI

Alexi stood in front of a mirror, his shirt resting on the bed behind him. He traced the scarred skin on the right side of his chest, spreading to his shoulder and upper arm. The fire had burned through his suit and latched onto his skin, damaging the epidermis and dermis of his skin causing a second-degree burn.

Small flashes of memories from that night flickered in his mind.

The bomb going off. The roof his house collapsing. The gas pipes within the house bursting and catching fire. Gunshots. His pained screams.

As the first bombing went off, the entrance of the mansion was destroyed, causing huge fractures in the roof of the dining hall. Blocks of cement toppled to the ground and a relatively small piece fell on Alexi's back, slashing it open.

Alexi turned in front of the mirror, looking at the expanse of his back, the majority of which was stitched and bandaged, but the parts the peeked out showed a healing scar that started at the nape of his neck and crossed his back diagonally to the edge of his hip.

He tried moving his hand to reach towards his face and touch the scar that ran from above his left brow and eye lid across the bridge of his nose towards his right cheekbone, but his shoulder cried out in pain preventing him from doing so.

Alexi looked mutilated. The scar looked like it split his pupil in half. His back looked like he endured hours of whipping and his arm looked like he fell in an acid pool.

He hated himself.

However, he hated who caused this to him more. Scars and wounds were no stranger to him- in fact they were more of a friend. But these scars were the embodiment of vicious monsters resting on his skin. The effects of letting his emotions and pride cloud his mind.

He no longer could handle looking at his reflection, so he grabbed his dress shirt before storming out of the room while hastily putting it on, his Glock never leaving the waist band of his pants.

"Stop moving! Your arm is still healing." Maria rushed with her clipboard to the room inside the Italian leader's mansion.

It took an immense source of power to push the Italian and Russian leader's egos aside and get them to work together.

That source of power came from the bombing of the Dimitri mansion.

"Трахни тебя." Alexi groaned as he pushed past the doctor.

[Fuck you.]

He was sick of sitting in bed when he could be doing more. He could be doing more to find which sewage hole the French leader was cowering away in. He could be doing more to build his house after it burned to the ground. He could be doing more to find his traitorous bitch of a wife.

The moment I lay my hands on you, Sophie, I will make sure you wished your father had died instead of selling you off to me for his life.

The Russian Don ignored the aching of his body and strode across the hallways of Leonidas's mansion. The Italian Don made quick work of reconstructing the damaged south wing of the mansion after the bombing months prior. Something that would take Alexi much longer to complete as the bombing he endured was destructive enough to Alert the puppet Russian government and neighboring governments and cause them to fidget in worry.

The Russian Don's main mansion and base being bombed was like an attack at the pentagon. It was matter of national security.

"Alexi! You're supposed to be healing!" Yasmin rushed towards the Don as he entered the conference hall. All the made men in the room turned towards Alexi.

Matteo immediately sat up from his seat and walked towards his newfound friend. Well- he always considered him a friend, but it was only now that Alexi seemed to tolerate him.