Naaz

15|Grim

My eyes are dead set on the man sitting in the far distance from me with two naked women dancing by his side. Rowan fucking Sáurez, having his time of the day with two prostitutes. One petite brunette now is on her knee choking on his filthy dick. My lips curled up in distaste.

It's one of the most swanky underground gentlemen's clubs in the rich part of town. The excess of this club is for some chosen one. Some of these men are beyond criminal. Felons, gun trafficking, murders, drug loads, psychos, rapists. They all do money laundering, it's a business.

"Does it matter when you have already given your words?"

"I won't be backing off. The ship has crossed the border, and Mexicans are at ease."

Theo went quiet and mumbled something under his breath.

"These two are still fighting."

Aditya and Theo had the same attire as Taskin but his face is covered behind a one-time skull tattoo and cap.

I was mainly there to meet Markov there. But meeting Rowan wasn't a coincidence. It was schemed. Seems like he forgot who he was threatening.

We are at the VIP room of the salacious strip point Markov owns. He is Bratva's mayoral candidate. The man invested his whole life in money, pussies, and powers. He had a kid with his former spouse who left him two years after for his habit of bringing women home.

I had to tell the women to get out cause none of the men would hear any of my words with naked asses on display. Malhotra Corporation was one of the few legitimate business firms I have. Dad and Abir handled the hotel chains for years. Drugs, money laundering, and illicit gun trafficking were all I had known for most of my life. I had my life in Russia.

I was the executive director of the Mikhaylov Syndicate. Before I got promoted I was arrested by the government. Then half a year later I was released by Pakhan and chose to leave the life of death games and returned to my hometown. As a black sheep that's the least I could do. I committed myself to legitimate businesses here. Leaving Russia was the tough and risky decision of my life.

"Ryke was originally from Scotland. His father was an addict and his mother was a local club whore. Then practically he was raised under Mexican drug lord Antonio. There are faint rumors in town about him killing his few guards and flying away from the country more than decades ago."

Taskin informed us, retrieving the still image of the person who was disguised differently among us.

"What things does he have in common? They seem like a completely different person."

I can't blame him. He was invited under a different name and he changed his appearance each time.

"He had cataracts in his right eye and he is lefty."

Taskin's voice was skeptical and edgy at the end.

I endorsed putting the footage side by side that I collected from a public surveillance camera. Clothes are not similar but standard and mostly classy.

After pulling up more feeds Markov was convinced and he was now my only legitimate way to inform Pakhan. Pakhan was under attack a month ago and after the accident, they diminished his meetings. Scar Maroney was in New York and he was in his own dipshit of vengeance and retribution.

Throughout the meeting, I once checked the camera to check on her. I had set up cameras in her room shortly after I left. I can't bring her with me. The option left is watching her from afar. A few hours ago she was making notes and then she sat with her laptop with coffee to write a blog on summer beverages. It's almost midnight in India.