The Havoc We Wreak - Becca Steele Page 0,42

sheer fucking size, but we could take him. Allan wouldn’t be a problem, and unless Christine was a secret ninja, she wouldn’t be, either. But the best thing to do was to remain hidden and hope to fuck that they didn’t find us. Being discovered at this point was the worst outcome.

“We don’t reveal ourselves unless we have to.”

Zayde nodded in agreement, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He fucking loved this. Guaranteed, if it had only been Petr here, he would’ve been tempted to go after him and fuck him up. Which wouldn’t help our cause, not while we were still searching for answers.

Soft footsteps sounded, close to our hiding place, and I saw the top of a shaved head come into view. For a big guy, Petr seemed to be able to sneak around really fucking quietly, which wasn’t good for us.

I settled into a crouch, ready to spring out and jump him if he reached us and found us hiding between the bins, when there was a screech that went straight through me, reverberating through my skull.

“What the fuck is that?” Zayde winced, putting his hands over his ears. Petr’s head swung towards the noise, and his whole demeanour relaxed. He stepped back, then turned away in the direction he’d come from. There was the sound of scuffling, and as we left our hiding place, I found what I knew I would as soon as I’d heard the sudden noise.

Foxes. Two foxes. Under the glow of the streetlamps, they snapped and pawed at each other, teeth bared, the high-pitched screeches sounding from their jaws as they scuffled.

“Never saw foxes fighting before. Thought they would sound like dogs. But this is fucking ear-splitting torture,” Z muttered.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s go.”

We left the foxes to their fight, creeping back around to our original hiding spot. I’d accidentally left the video recording, so there would be a whole load of the view of the alleyway and the inside of my pocket.

“Urban foxes are disease-ridden vermin that should be eliminated,” Christine was saying as we got within earshot, her tone haughty.

“She needs to be fucking eliminated,” Zayde whispered to me, and I laughed.

“Yeah, you got that right, mate.” We fell silent, listening as Christine ranted on about her dislike for all animals.

Eventually she ran out of steam, and the conversation fucking finally got back onto matters that concerned us.

“I want your assurances, Ivanov. Either you’re in, or you’re out. There are others who can replace you.”

“Others?” He raised a brow in disbelief.

“Yes. Do not overestimate Strelichevo’s importance.”

“Do not underestimate his importance. You do not want him as an enemy, Christine.”

Allan finally spoke with a heavy sigh. “Let me speak to him. As his dyadya, he may listen to me.” He turned to Christine. “Blood ties cannot be denied. I may only be his uncle, but with his father gone, my words may carry some weight.”

I fucking gasped in shock, throwing my hand over my mouth. Uncle? My dad’s butler was the uncle of some Belarusian crime lord? What the actual fucking fuck?

“Uncle?” I hissed to Z, my voice shaky.

“Shhh. Listen,” he cautioned.

Allan gestured to Petr, and they began speaking again in low, rapid-fire Russian. What the fuck was going on? Petr eventually stepped back, and they shook hands. Throughout the whole exchange, Allan had an unhappy frown on his face, worry in his eyes.

“It is done,” Petr said to Christine. She nodded, and she and Allan climbed back into the car, the engine starting a moment later. Petr moved to lean against the building, lighting up a smoke and taking a long drag before sending the smoke curling through the air. We stayed, frozen in place, until he finished smoking and disappeared inside after grinding out his cigarette stub under his boot.

“Did you stop recording?” Z pointed at my phone, which was flashing a low-battery alert at me.

“Fuck, I forgot.” I turned it off.

We made our way silently back to the bike. Before he dropped the visor on his helmet, Zayde met my eyes. “What do we do, now?”

“We get back, get West to work his magic, then we bring the bitch down.”

SEVENTEEN

Caiden had been subdued since he’d followed my mother and learned the information about Allan being related to the Strelichevos. From everything I knew, Allan had always been around for him and Weston when they were younger—much more than Arlo had, at least, since he’d always buried himself in his work. The betrayal was hitting him hard; he’d seen