Then

With a tight grip on his gun, Rami pressed up against the building's brick wall. He waited, barely breathing. His blood rushed through him, the anticipation and excitement only fueling the need for him to succeed. His dark eyes scanned the area with vigilance, ears alert to any sound, not coming from the comms, where he listened to the rest of the teams get into position. He got the go-ahead from Cain, who was on the roof of a nearby building, keeping him updated on any movement through the comms. Cain's job was to look out for trouble and provide sniper cover.

Guiding Malachai and Yarro forward to stand on either side of the door, Rami ensured his enforcers were ready to enter. Though Mal was excused from active team duty, he had insisted on coming. He was part of the team, and with Jace and Phoenix out of commission, Mal could not allow the team to lose out on another member, even if they had gotten replacements. Being branch leader was fine, but taking down Grychenko's men was a pleasure he was not ready to say no to.

Bogojev was on loan as brute force, Rami's old position. He stood wielding a gun and knife, ready to go in after Mal and Yarro. Jurij, another loaner for Phoenix's position, and Oleksander were next to enter. Gaine and Dante were on the other side of him, going in after Rami to have his back with Sasha entering last.

"In position," Rami confirmed in a hushed voice over the comms.

"Just a few more minutes, mate," Horse acknowledged and continued to direct the other teams and confirm when in place.

Two and a half months, four capture attempts, and a lot of frustration it had taken for Cracker and Rami to finally be in the right place at the right time.

They had worked tirelessly to analyze the locations and scenes of the previous break-ins, because the new ones they could not predict without more data. But at some point, Cracker had found a pattern, or so he had said. Rami just went with the flow, since Cracker was the experienced tactical genius. The pattern had been what they needed to predict the next probable places Grychenko would hit. Cracker had issued teams at all the places and though they had done their best, no intruders had been caught in the act. They had either slithered away like the lowlife snakes they were or been killed.

"All teams in position and ready," Cellmate announced for everybody to know, though Cracker was the one he spoke to as mission lead.

No one knew exactly where Cracker was. Hiding on a roof somewhere, observing everything through the scope of his trusted sniper rifle, was the safest bet. It was a crucial part of the mission for him to hide somewhere and feed information to Horse and Cellmate for them to keep the teams up to date on movements inside. It was anybody's guess how many days Cracker had camped on site, waiting for Grychenko's men to make their move, but he had called it right, and every team in the scheduled waiting position rotation had moved out at a moment's notice, leading them to where they were.

The comms scratched for a moment, and then Cracker's tense voice flowed to everyone. "I've followed their movements inside. They're on the second floor in the south side offices, as expected. On my mark, you move in as silently as possible. Every sniper is to fire at random into the second-floor offices, forcing the intruders to move down. Sweepers, move up methodically and stay in teams of two if you split up. We need at least one alive, don't use deadly force unless needed. Door teams, you're the backstops, none of them get out tonight." There was no reason for Cracker to recite the entire plan for them. They all knew what to do, but it was typical of Cracker to make sure he left no room for misunderstandings.

The mission had to go well.

Anticipation surged through Rami, making him almost euphoric from the feeling. Tingles ran just under his skin in an exhilarating way. The tingles pricked like a leg that had been asleep, finally waking up again; it was not a painful sensation. More like a reminder of life and how intensely alert he was. He did not feel the heat inside his combat outfit, cared not for the sweat that made his mask cling to his face, or even how his trigger finger vibrated from how tense he was. Like a spring, he stood at attention, ready to move in with his team. They needed to fight Grychenko off once and for all. The man had no business moving in on their territory; he should just fuck off back to where he came from and continue his reign of terror there. That was the obvious reason why Rami was worked up and in kill-mode, but his secondary reason was to prove himself as leader of a team, to do something in the grand scheme of things he could report to Jace as solved, for all of them to move on, and give Jace a respite from worrying.

The good thing about being on call for the team was how he had pushed Phoenix and Jace to work together, often at Phoenix's home office. For security reasons, of course. They both seemed happy with the arrangement, and that was a plus, though Rami missed his place by Jace's side and all the information he could absorb during the meetings. It was hard to predict what Jace needed from him if he was not there to listen in and prepare himself for Jace's schedule.

The cool night air was a blessing. Even if they wore light combat gear, the heat of the day still lingered on the asphalt under them. The smell of warmth emanated from the bricks and concrete of the buildings; not as strong as during the day when the sun baked relentlessly, but it was there. Of all the things to do on a summer night, storming a warehouse was not what any of them wanted. Rami would have wanted to sit on his back porch with a beer, maybe with Jace. The friendship between them had grown in a way he liked a lot. He enjoyed how Jace somehow knew when to be cheery and talkative and when to just stay quiet and relax.

Ever since the first time he met Jace, Rami had felt a connection with him. They were the lost boys and Gareth was Peter Pan. Though their circumstances were different, there had been similarities. Both had lost their families. Jace's story of his mother leaving and Jace taking care of his father until he was ready to do something incredibly stupid to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, when Gareth had found him, they all knew to some extent. And himself... He had never talked about it. Not even with Gareth. Gareth knew Rami had left his abusive home and fended for himself on the streets until the day they ran into each other. The exact reason he had run away, none but Rami knew. And that was how he liked it.

The past was in the past and should stay there.

"Snipers, go!"

Cracker's voice drew Rami back to reality, and seconds later, Mal got the ok from Horse and unlocked the door, sneaking in with the rest of the team right behind him. They were the front-runner sweeper team, those meant to engage with the enemy. There were two others coming in from the other entrances to the warehouse building, going up the different stairs leading from the ground-floor loading area and storage facility to the first-floor production area.

Inside the warehouse, the heat of the day hung in the air. Heavy and humid because the doors and windows had been locked since the workday ended. Forklifts were haphazardly parked at the exact spot they had been in when the clock struck five pm and the workers got off for the day. Pallets of materials were stacked to high heavens along the walls. Some stood ready for shipping near the loading ramps for when the trucks arrived in the morning.

Weaving past the pallets to the stairs, they left the door teams to guard the exits and sneaked up the stairs. They heard the commotion from the offices above before getting to the first floor. Windows shattering, things being knocked over, and stomping feet. Those fuckers apparently did not know how to be quiet.

"Beta leader, I've got three running your way," Maron, the leader of another sweeper team, called.

"Acknowledged, we're on it." Motioning wildly with his hands, Rami coordinated with his team to divide and take cover away from the main hallway. He crouched and peeked around the corner from where he sat and saw three men come running toward them. Signaling to Mal to get down to shoot at the intruder's legs and for Yarro to take the top as backup. He motioned for Bogojev to slide and, if needed, take them down like a bowling ball would a set of pins. That was the job of the brute force member, to throw themselves into the mix and take the brunt of the threat.

He held up his hand, folding his fingers to count down. Simultaneously, they all sprang into action. He and Mal shot the front guy in the legs, effectively crippling him. He toppled over and the two others stumbled and ended up on the floor, cursing wildly in Ukrainian. Of course, there was always one who tried to shoot his way out, resulting in Bogojev spewing his own set of Russian curses before shooting the guy without mercy, then grabbing his arm where he had been hit.

The other two surrendered.

To him, it was odd how they were taken down so fast. Rami had prepared himself for more than a few shots; if not a crazy suicide attempt to not get caught, then at least fierce resistance. Gareth would never send his men in anywhere and have them surrender that easily. Then again, to Gareth, no man was expendable. They all knew that a mission could be their last, but never because Gareth sent them in as sacrificial lambs.

"Two alive, one dead, and Bogojev is injured, Sasha will handle it," Rami informed on the comms, still pointing his weapon at the uninjured of the survivors. Not that he needed to. His team had them outgunned and subdued without his help. Yarro tied their hands with zip ties, and Dante stripped them of weapons and whatever tech they had; phones, flash drives, and communications devices. Gaine took the papers they had stolen before they got interrupted.

After having helped Bogojev, who cursed almost as badly as Gareth, they waited until they received the all-clear from Cellmate. The other teams had captured two and killed one. It was time to get some answers. Together, they hauled the still living men down the stairs and left their dead colleague to be removed by the cleanup teams. The injured one cursed and weakly fought them all the way.

If words could kill, he would have been a threat.

"We're at the loading area, awaiting The Dragon's orders." They could not let on that Gareth was not there to pull the strings, and that Jace and Cracker called the shots, just in case, not that it was likely any of the captured men would leave the warehouse alive. Still, keeping up pretenses was important. Any weakness could land them in a lot more trouble than just some break-ins and random vandalism.

A full-on mafia war without Gareth to lead them could be the end of the Adjenkov house. Word would spread and they would not only have to deal with Grychenko. Every mafia lowlife in Europe would have a field day. They might even end up with another Russian faction on their asses, because many were envious of Gareth and how he ran his organization and the territories he held.

Nipping shit in the bud was paramount.

Rami stood proud next to his team, looking at the men in front of him. The injured one was on his stomach, hogtied, mumbling what they expected were not flattering compliments between his groans of pain. He should shut the fuck up. Sasha had dressed his wounds, which was more than he deserved. The rest sat on their knees. They were dressed similarly to Gareth's men, in light combat gear. All black attire, masks, and heavy boots. Before the guys had stripped them of their possessions, they had carried weapons galore, and one had explosives too. Whatever they were there to do, it seemed they had planned to up the vandalism to plain destruction. Why else bring explosives? They had come prepared, but not enough to wear Kevlar.

They had probably counted on getting away with their break-in.

"Don't wait for me. I'm comfy where I am. This is all you, Rami."

Glad he was wearing his mask to hide his surprise at Cracker's comment, Rami stepped forward like it was planned, taking on the role of mission lead. He stood with a hand on his hip, the other holding his gun casually, staring down the four prisoners; in no way letting on, he was beyond nervous about being in command of more than a team. He had no real orders, just a green light to wing it as he pleased.

"I have a life to get back to, so any of you dickwads want to tell me what you're up to, or should we take this someplace else where I'm sure the accommodations are worse?"

One of the other team members came forward and ripped the masks off the prisoners to easier see their faces. Rami nodded his thanks and returned his attention to the men.

"I'm waiting," he huffed, faking annoyance and fiddling with his gun to emphasize his short temper.

In a way, Rami understood their will to not rat on Grychenko. He could hate on Grychenko all he wanted and question the sanity of the men working for him, but he admired people who showed loyalty. If ever in the situation, he would rather take a bullet or torture than betray his loyalty to Gareth. If his death kept his friends alive, then that was a small sacrifice.

"Just checking out the competition," one man finally spat back at Rami, eying him hard. He looked to be around his mid-thirties, and was most likely the leader, considering the others looked younger and less defiant.

"Last chance, I'm not going to ask again." In true mafia style, Rami held up his gun and pointed it directly at the man's forehead, nothing but cold detachment in his eyes.

"Bite me!"

"Wrong answer."

Not even hesitating, Rami pulled the trigger. He did not react at all to what he had done. Did not blink at the loud sound, the sight of the bullet entering the man's skull before he fell on the concrete warehouse floor, or at the smell from the gun that rose to his nose through his mask. He paid no mind to the man's colleagues, who, though they tried to hide it, paled at the action.

That was mafia life, and they all knew it would lead to death. The only unknown factor was when and how.

It was nothing new to Rami; he had killed enough people in the line of duty to know how each death would haunt him after, because he was not a monster. But when it stood between some scumbag trying to mess up their lives and the people he called family, he knew where his loyalties were, and he did what he needed to do. That did not mean he enjoyed it. Regular non-mafia people would never understand the mafia way of life, applying their morals to situations they could never grasp. Yes, Rami was trained to kill and lived to protect. He used lethal force only against people who tried to take down Gareth, and by extension his men, or scumbags like the ones they stopped when storming sex trafficking rings. But he would never hurt a civilian.

Well, with one exception.

Anyone practicing animal cruelty, he would go after with no remorse, which was why he was thankful that Gareth insisted on tranquilizer darts to take down canine patrols on missions. The animals got knocked out for a few hours but would wake up safe and sound. If Gareth did it because it was a pet peeve of his too, or if he did it to avoid a Rami fit, was anybody's guess. Rami chose to believe that Gareth was conscious of the animals' innocence.

Pointing his gun at the next guy, Rami knew he had made his point by the look in the man's eyes. "Same question," he simply stated and got met with silence. Another shot, another body on the floor, and Rami turned to look at the two remaining men. The injured glared evilly at him, and the other looked like he was about to piss himself.

Rami shrugged theatrically at their silence. "The first one to cough up an explanation gets to live."

"What good would that do? I can't use my legs. Do you expect me to do the worm all the way back home?"

Controlling himself to not laugh, Rami gave the man a droll stare. "It's a warehouse. I'm sure we can find a crate you'll fit in. Tell me what I want to know and a mailing address. We'll make sure you'll get home, eventually." He turned to the other guy, still pointing his weapon threateningly. "Or you can spill the beans and go home under better conditions. Your colleague there probably won't survive the trip in a crate."

The man said nothing, though not for the lack of trying. His mouth kept opening and closing as he did fierce attempts at forming words. It took a few tries, but eventually, he got his tongue moving. "We were ordered to rattle a few cages to see if The Dragon would find out." The man's English was decent but had a strong Ukrainian accent.

"Shut up, you shithead! Do you really think they'll let us live?" The injured man turned his anger at his colleague, speaking with venomous contempt. His face screwed up in pain, from turning to glare.

Chuckling at that, Rami gave the man a moment to continue. "Well, it's safe to say he noticed, and here we are. Continue..."

"I don't know much." He tried to shrug. With his hands tied behind his back, it was difficult. "There's been no talk about taking over or doing more than a bit of pissing off."

"I can tell you right now that the pissing off worked, and it stops now." Rami waved over Dante and held out his hand. "They had phones, right?"

Nodding, Dante found the inconspicuous burner phones he had taken from the prisoners. They were not smartphones, but old-school, off-brand button phones, just like the ones Gareth's men brought on missions. Prepaid and untraceable.

Rami put away his gun and took out his knife. He grabbed the phone and went to the injured man, cutting the zip-tie on his wrists to free his hands. Shoving the phone into the man's hand, staring at him, Rami dared him to do anything but listen and obey. "Call your boss. I'd like a word with Grychenko."

The man grunted from the pain and rubbed his wrists before clicking a number from memory, strongly encouraged by his colleague who said something in Ukrainian to him.

They all watched and listened to the man. He talked with one person first and then got transferred to another, and another. Though Russian and Ukrainian sounded alike, the languages were very different, and most Russians did not understand the spoken words. The sentiments they caught. The man, who repeatedly called himself Fedir, went through different gatekeepers to reach Grychenko, talking fast and with authority to make his urgency known. Finally, his tone of voice changed. He became respectful and slowed down, explaining his predicament to the person on the other end, before handing the phone back to Rami.

"Hello? Hello? Who am I speaking with?" The voice asked in English with a strong accent, probably having been informed about the men speaking English to Fedir and his comrades.

"Mr. Grychenko?" As much as Rami wanted to be an asshole and fling insults at the man, he knew Gareth would have dealt with Grychenko through diplomacy until the point where talking had no chance. In the spirit of not escalating the situation, he opted to go the same route.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Rami, on behalf of The Dragon."

A small lighthearted laugh came through the speaker for all to hear. "I see. The bodyguard. To what do I owe the pleasure? It's the middle of the night."

Bodyguard? It was better than being called a chauffeur or a glorified personal assistant. Though Rami had to admit it unnerved him that Grychenko knew who he was.

"Yes, I would have preferred being in bed too. But some of your men have been doing a bunch of late-night wake-up calls here lately."

"Really?" Grychenko asked in genuine surprise, not giving Rami a chance to give a snarky comeback to the obvious. Grychenko changed to Ukrainian and barked a harsh tirade at Fedir, who, if possible, paled more, stuttering replies to his boss' questions.

Everybody stood perplexed and looked at each other, wondering what the hell was going on. Grychenko was undoubtedly pissed off, and from what little they understood of the fast and extremely heated conversation, the cage-rattling request had not come from the top. That only raised more questions. Why would his men start something without their boss knowing? Who in their organization was stupid enough to rile up Gareth without the full backing of Grychenko?

"Mr. Costa," Grychenko said in a calmer tone, when he was done yelling at Fedir.

"Yes?" If it had been unnerving that Grychenko knew who he was from his first name alone, then it was bone chilling that he knew his last name too. Yes, Rami was always around Gareth, but nobody really knew of him. He was simply the muscle shield, nothing more. Not worthy of knowing. Or maybe because he protected Gareth, Grychenko needed to know what he was up against to get to Gareth. Whatever the reason, Rami felt oddly exposed.

"I'd like to speak with The Dragon."

That was only to be expected. Leader to leader, Grychenko wanted to... Whatever he wanted. Rami did not know how a man like Grychenko would handle the situation. But speaking with Gareth was the right thing to do, and if Gareth had not been MIA, Rami knew they would have spoken. Hopefully, he could lie well enough to not make Grychenko suspicious and sniff out that Gareth was missing. "He's not here with us at the warehouse."

Again, Grychenko laughed. A quite pleasant and friendly sound, like he was enjoying the conversation. "I can imagine. He's probably sleeping or knee-deep in whiskey somewhere."

"Something like that," Rami agreed, happy to not have to explain anything that would put them on shaky ground.

"I have no idea who issued the order to go against you. It will, however, stop now. You have my word. Ireland holds no interest for me." He paused. "Give my regards to The Dragon."

Noticing Grychenko had said Ireland and not Russian territories or Gareth's in particular, Rami did not feel completely at ease with the promises made. Still, it was a victory that Grychenko was backing off and had given his word. Honor among thieves and all that. Many leaders stood and fell by their word. Psychopath or not, Grychenko knew the value of not starting a war over nothing, and if he had no intentions of taking over Ireland or Gareth's claims, then it was enough for now.

Dealing with the actual Irish mafia was more than enough, though Gareth had his agreements in place with them about territories and deals. How he had done that, well, that was a Gareth gift.

"I will forward your message."

"Good, good. Mr. Costa, I hope we can consider this matter closed?"

"If there are no more attacks, we will stand down."

Grychenko chuckled, not sounding like the lunatic they had expected. With his reputation, they had expected evil overlord cackling or promises of death and destruction. Not a jolly Santa, almost seeming apologetic. The man was a known terror, who ran havoc in Ukraine. Any faction he went after suffered massive losses. Even if the attacked faction won, the aftermath was a struggle. He was not known to have principles like Gareth; he was into anything that made him money or gained him power. They had not caught him red-handed with anything sex trafficking related, but if they did, he too would be a target. Gareth would go to war based on his stance on that alone.

And all his men would follow him proudly.

"There's a time and a place for everything," Grychenko replied to Rami's statement.

"What about the men we have here?" Rami looked at the two men, neither of which looked back at him. They maybe knew the answer and had accepted their fate. After all, they knew who they worked for.

"I'll leave that up to your discretion, Mr. Costa."

And then he was gone. The call had been cut, and Rami stood there like a dummy, looking at the phone in his hand, his mind going a mile a minute. He did not know what to think. Had he just solved the situation with a single phone call? Or was it all a massive ploy to throw them off and make them let their guard down before an actual attack? He had to discuss that possibility with Jace and Cracker in private. That was not something to go into in front of their men and the prisoners.

Lost in thought, Rami waved Sasha forward and pointed at the injured man. "Patch up this fool."

"But?" Both men seemed surprised by Rami's order, glancing around at the crowd of team members surrounding them to see if it was a ruse and if they were about to be slaughtered anyway. They stayed alert and hesitant, anxiety clear in their roaming eyes.

Stepping forward, Rami caught the kneeling man's chin in a firm grip. He tilted the man's head up for them to see each other. "Listen carefully. You two go back to Grychenko and pray he was honest with me. He needs to stay the fuck away and leave us alone, and we'll grant him the same courtesy. Don't get me wrong, if he wants war, we'll give him one because we are and have always been stronger than him. This is your one and only chance to avoid the full force of the Russians. Understood?"

"Y-Yes."

"Good. Don't ever let me catch you in Russian territory again." Rami let go and stepped back. It had never been easier for him to call himself Russian. Sure, he was originally from some shithole not far from Barcelona, and outside of the visual ethnic heritage, he was Russian through and through.

And damned proud of it.

"Charlie team," Rami said, addressing Maron and his team. "When the guy is stable enough to travel, please make sure they're sent home. Do not kill them. This is a gesture of goodwill from the Dragon."

"As you wish." Maron gestured for his men to close in on the prisoners while the rest of the awaiting teams began to clear out.

"It's over," Rami called into the comms, though he was certain they had been listening all along. He was itching to get the hell out of there and think of something else. Just breathing without the mask on would be a blessing now that it was over. "Send in clean-up teams. We're out of here."

"Well done. Briefing tomorrow. Noon at the mansion. Hopefully, this was the end of it," Cracker said, letting out a loud sigh. "Snipers stay in position the rest of the night, just to be sure while the clean-up teams work."

Confirmation came from the other snipers, and that meant Cracker's night was not over yet. He would stay until morning and make sure Charlie team and the prisoners came out without issues, should more of Grychenko's men lurk about. That was part of Cracker's mentality. Nothing was over, until he was sure, and people would work to please his paranoia. In the end, they knew his behavior sprang from experience, and they would rather have a boring night of nothing than weeks of something because they had dropped the ball.

On the walk back to the cars, Rami's team members were quiet and alert, contemplating the mission. It was too early to celebrate; still, there was a feeling of accomplishment between them. When at the cars and stripped of their weapons and Kevlar, looking more like a black-clad boy band than mafia enforcers, they relaxed, finally. Walking in the open in full gear, even in the dead of night, they risked running into the authorities. Jace would have a heart attack, and Gareth would blow a fuse if they got caught.

"Boss, you did good," Mal said softly to Rami, putting his hand on Rami's shoulder to squeeze it. "You did Jace justice in his stead. I'm sure he would have spared their lives too."

Rami sighed and glanced sheepishly at Mal. It was certainly an unfamiliar experience being called 'boss', and acting like it in front of everybody was something he needed to get used to. "I appreciate it, mate. I fight for our survival, and I kill to ensure that. But I don't like senseless violence. Killing both of those guys would make us as bad as them. Gareth taught us better and has high standards."

"You're preaching to the choir, my man." Dante came over to join the conversation they all had followed by eavesdropping shamelessly. "We won't ever second guess your decisions in the moment, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd have done the same."

Murmurs of confirmation and a few agreeing nods from his teammates helped push that unnerving feeling inside away. He would never admit to it, but it felt good to have the support from people he respected and needed to have his back whenever they went on a mission. Rami was sure he had earned his team's respect and Cracker's.

He only hoped Jace would see it the same way. The man was stressed and worried about running everything, and he needed good news. Letting intruders go might not constitute as good. In his eagerness to live up to Gareth's expectations, Jace could go overboard to compensate for his inexperience and set the bar too high, which would make him volatile and not rational about a gesture of mercy, though Rami suspected Jace would have done the same if faced with a similar situation.

But maybe not when all eyes were on him for results.

"We'd better get back. Thank you all for your efforts tonight, and all the other nights you've come running at the drop of a hat."

The guys just waved him off. They needed no thanks for doing their jobs. If Rami gave a round when the Grychenko threat was over, they would be fine. Now he understood how Jace and Gareth felt every time they said thanks for something, and he just waved them off. The shoe was definitely on the other foot, and he was not convinced if he liked it.

"Hand me my phone. I need to check on Jace."

"Ten to one, he's in the office and hasn't eaten or slept," Bogojev said with a laugh and then huffed at the pain from his injury. He grabbed his arm and massaged it until Sasha slapped his hand away.

"Stop that. I've only done a field patch-up. If you rub it like that, you'll do more damage."

"I got shot. It's not like I haven't tried it before. Now stop fussing or I'll slap you with my good arm."

Sasha threw his hands in the air, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Bleed out for all I care."

"Phone," Rami repeated, chuckling at the two who had become the comedic relief of the group now that Jace was not there. Bogojev would listen to Sasha if it was anything serious, and Sasha would not take no for an answer, but so far, they had only joked around. Not that a bullet wound should not be taken seriously, but Bogojev was one of those who had survived a lot, and he knew when he was in danger and would accept help if he needed it.

Ignoring the stupid bickering between Sasha and Bogojev, Rami called Ivanov, the leader of Jace's protection team at night.

"He's in his office at the mansion," Ivanov informed in a gruff tone without greeting Rami at all. He was not one for pleasantries, and he was dead tired of Rami checking up on them and Jace.

Something he had told Rami, though Rami had not changed his behavior. Jace was his responsibility. If that meant bothering a few of his protection guys, then that was what he intended to do.

"We're on our way there. I'll get him to go home and sleep. Has he eaten?"

"Does two pounds of Natalya's chocolate cake count?"

"In theory..."

Great, a sleep-deprived, probably cranky, and also sugar-high Jace. Just what he needed after a long day of waiting and a mission that had messed with his head. There was only one thing he needed besides peace and sleep, but Jace would probably not leave time for it.

Later, when they arrived at the mansion, Rami followed Bogojev to the hospital ward, and waited until he was in the safe hands of the doctor on duty, before he went up the stairs to the offices. He found Ivanov and three others sitting on chairs outside Gareth's office, watching some action movie on an iPad.

"Any news?" He strolled down the hallway, exhibiting a lot more energy than he had.

"My ass is numb, and I'm bored," Ivanov stated drolly.

"Funny, that never happens to me."

Looking up from the iPad, Raik rolled his eyes. "That's because you never sit down."

"And you're always inside, not sitting out here looking at the walls," Simon chimed in.

"I like to stand." Rami shrugged. He always stood when on duty. It was a principle of his, and a precautionary measure. If sitting down, he could lose precious seconds getting to Gareth or Jace and save their lives. The time it took him to get up and start running could be the difference between life and death. "And you could take turns to be inside, if you wanted."

"Nope, we have a James Bond marathon going," Ivanov defended their decision.

"Then you're not bored. Find better chairs and your asses will survive." Grinning at the grumpy man, Rami went in for a bro-hug when he got close, grabbing Ivanov's upper arms after, shaking his head like to a child. "I asked for news."

"If there had been any, I would have reported it to you already. Jace has been in there since we replaced the evening team. He was on the phone last I checked. That was about an hour ago."

"Fine." Rami let go, and knocked on the door, though not giving Jace time to reply, he simply opened the door and stepped in, instantly seeing Jace hanging over the desk, resting his head in his arms while listening to whoever was on the phone with him. He briefly lifted his head, quirked a tired smile, and let his head fall again.

"Guys, take the rest of the night off. I've got this." With those words, he went inside and closed the door, leaving the guys to go home or do whatever they wanted to do in the middle of the night.

Smoke hung in the air, greatly helped by the lit cigarette in the overfilled ashtray. The room smelled stuffy. Stale and musky, like it needed to have a window popped open. Or a small army of Natalya's minions to clean it and remove the leftover cake and old coffee, while having the windows open. Or, and that was the option Rami leaned toward, set the room on fire and renovate it after. One thing he knew, was Jace needed to get out of there, get some sleep, have a shower, and preferably a change of clothes, while someone did basic cleaning before Rami would stomach staying there for hours like normal.

Seeing how Jace needed rest, Rami went to Gareth's private fridge and grabbed a can of energy drink he had made Natalya put in there. He only needed to keep Jace awake long enough to relay his initial report and get him out of there. An energy drink would probably have little influence on Jace's ability to sleep, but it would keep him going long enough to reach a bed. He clicked it open and went to the desk, where he slid it into Jace's hand, staring hard at him until he took a reluctant sip. Satisfied with Jace's compliance, he went to get himself a soda and took his position at the side of the door, where he waited, sipping his drink quietly until Jace finished his call with the leader of a place in the Netherlands.

Jace lifted his head slowly, focusing his tired eyes on Rami. "How did it go?"

Typical Jace to not skip a beat and jump straight to work. "We got lucky. Cracker was right about where they'd hit. We killed two while catching four and then killed two more to get information."

Jace raised an eyebrow in surprise, which was the extent of what he had the energy to do if having to talk, too. "Oh? What information did they have?"

"Not much. They were just rattling a few cages to see if we were on our toes." Rami scratched the back of his neck, wondering if Jace had the mental capacity to understand his report and see straight. He stood by everything he had done, no doubt about that, and he would defend his actions. Still, Jace was his boss, and the leader of their organization. If Jace did not agree, then it was his right to admonish him as he saw fit.

Sighing, running his hand through his greasy hair, and grumbling a bit, Jace reached for his coffee cup, taking a large gulp. He retched at the cold bitterness, instantly returning to the sweetness of the energy drink to wash away the taste. "If those fuckers wanted to say hello, they could have sent a postcard like normal people. There was no need for the theatricals." He banged his head on the table, not helping the headache that felt like stabbing needles inside his skull. "I would have reimbursed the postage if it came to that."

"I talked with Grychenko," Rami blurted out. Now was as good a time as any to get that small tidbit out in the open. He was not one to shy away from confrontation, and Jace needed full disclosure to form an opinion and know how to react.

"Really? Do I want to know?" Jace lifted his head to see Rami clearly. "Give it to me straight. Are we moderately screwed or completely fucked?"

Rami scratched his head and sat down. Finally, allowing his tired body to win. He needed an hour, just one hour, where he could recharge his mind and relax without being on guard. Gareth always knew when he needed some alone time, and allowed him to go to his special place, though Gareth did not know where he went or what he did. It was an understanding between them, and Gareth respected Rami's privacy. Maybe Jace would too, if he asked? But first, he had to give an account of what had happened.

"I'll let you be the judge of that..."

Rami gave Jace a full play-by-play of the last weeks of anxious waiting for Cracker's pattern premonitions to be right; that part Jace knew already. Then he told everything they had done at the warehouse, ending with his talk with Grychenko and the decision to spare the two surviving men.

Jace sat quietly and rubbed his chin when Rami stopped talking. He wanted to light another cigarette, though he had already gone through two packs that day, and his throat was raw and itchy. The one in the ashtray had died, and nothing in him could make him light another. There was always the option to empty whatever liquor he could find. It was Gareth's office, after all, and he had a fuckload hidden in the different cabinets. He knew Gareth had been borderline alcoholic for years. A very well-functioning alcoholic who drowned his loneliness and hatred with his life in whiskey of any brand.

His habits had changed a lot after Mackenzie's entrance into his life. For some reason, love being the best, Gareth had cut down on his day-drinking and excessive partying. Mackenzie's influence was something Jace had admired. Gareth had wanted to change, wanted to be better and less the man he had formed himself into.

He wished he knew what had happened to Gareth.

Jace had his theories. Rehab, maybe. Some retreat away from society to rewire his brain. Maybe he had run off with Mackenzie, though that one seemed unlikely since Vittorio Sante had not come to bomb them back to the Stone Age. Or maybe she had broken up with him, and he had hit rock bottom, which meant a few whiskey distilleries were about to flourish beyond imagination. Not knowing was the worst. If he only knew, he had a chance to prepare for when Gareth came back and estimate how long it would be. He would be able to worry about something specific and not about the horrors of the theories that circled within the organization.

"Do you believe Grychenko?" Jace needed Rami's evaluation of the conversation because Jace had not heard it, and had not listened to the nuances of the voices and the words used. Those often revealed a lot more than the face-value conversation. He would hear it at the inevitable briefing, because Cellmate and Horse recorded everything. What he wanted was Rami's opinion.

"Am I crazy for saying yes?" Rami asked, wondering if he was too gullible for believing somebody they knew was insane and could not be trusted.

"Not at all. If excluding Cracker, you're the most vigilant and naturally suspicious person I know. Your gut feeling will at any point hold more value than most others'." Seeing how Rami relaxed, Jace realized Rami needed not only assurance of his actions but of his beliefs afterward too. "If you can tell me your gut feeling is to believe him, then I'll back you."

Rami shrugged to hide how relieved he was. He had expected Jace to see reason, but not until he had ranted a bit. Maybe they were both too tired to act stupid and get worked up over things they could not change. He stood by what he had done, and that voice inside his head, the one he could always count on to protect him, and the surrounding people, said Grychenko's word could be trusted.

"I somehow think he was in earnest. Not because I want to believe him. There was just something in his voice. I read people very well. You know this." Rami crushed his now empty can, looping it into the trashcan. "I rely on instincts and Grychenko gave me the vibe of someone who could be trusted. Well, in this instance. I'm not extending that opinion to other matters."

Jace chuckled. "I understand. Then let's leave it for now. I'll get everything at the briefing. Besides, if Cracker had not shared your opinion, he would have been up my ass about it already."

Rami stood up and waited for Jace to do the same. Looking at how Jace swayed, and how tired his own body was, there was only one solution. "My place?"

Hi dear Wattlings.

Thank you for reading. I can inform that my dad's spinal surgery went well, but it's been hectic taking care of him and life in general. But he's feeling better and will begin rehab tomorrow. Hopefully, he'll be back to his old self soon

Aah, the gang finally caught a break. Storming a warehouse and capturing some intruders. How do you like the way Rami handled everything? Do you believe Grychenko? Let me know, I'd love your input.

If you like it, then pop a vote and please leave comments. The comments are important for me to know how the story is progressing and the characters are developing. And I'd love to know what you think and interact with y'all.

Give me a follow too for updates on other work and put this book in your library. I'd appreciate that.

Love, Alix

Published: July 27th, 2022. ©Alix Davenport, Copenhagen