Vik (Shot Callers 2)

My head dipped in a short nod. And, as though I felt eyes on me, my gaze swept the bar. I found Nastasia watching me, her expression gentle and warm. And when her pouty lips elevated slowly, I held her gaze. Her smile widened. When she dipped her chin, shook her head, and got back to work, I tried not to think about how much I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back down to the janitor’s closet to relive that unbeatable fuck from a few weeks back.

My cock was still twitching from it.

The night was going off without a hitch, and as I sat back, watching the girls on stage move slowly, sensually, I hadn’t noticed the change in vibe until Anika called out an alarmed-sounding, “Vik.”

My actions gradual, I twisted back to see what she needed, and when I spotted all three of the girls still, work forgotten, looking wide-eyed and rigid across the room, my brows furrowed.

I followed their startled stares, and when I saw them, I balked.

Goddammit.

Standing steadily, my eyes swept the room.

They were everywhere.

The men dressed in black blocked every exit, their black-and-white-painted faces eerie and odd. With skulls half covering their faces, they were a daunting sight. Intimidating. And that was the exact moment I knew I fucked up.

The Disciples referred to their soldiers as the departed, and there was little doubt in my mind—they were here for me.

Their numbers grew, and I silently wondered how they had gotten in. Patrons watched on cautiously but curiously. The music went on, but the girls stopped dancing. There was a stillness in the room, and the departed simply stood their ground.

My eyes went to Lev, who rose from his seat, standing tall, as Mina pulled on his arm, her face pale in panic.

That was when Sasha arrived, standing in the large open doorway. He took one look at the men and ducked his head a moment before straightening and saying, “Boys.” He advanced, the picture of composure. “If you want a show, you gotta wait in line like everyone else.”

One of the departed stepped forward. “We’re not here for a show.” He looked to Sasha, lifted his arm, and pointed straight at me. “We’re here for our brother. He pledged himself tonight.” The man looked at me, then uttered a threatening, “And he’s gonna fulfil the obligation.”

I remained unaffected on the outside. I was glad nobody could see what was going on on the inside. Because it wasn’t good.

Sasha’s hand balled into a fist. He remained silent before offering, “As you can see, he has other obligations to attend to.”

The departed smiled, and the paint stretched and pulled in a way that had it cracking. “We’ve been given instructions not to leave unless he leaves with us.”

“And if he doesn’t go with?” The cool, calm way he spoke gave away nothing, but I knew my brother. It didn’t happen often, but Sasha was about to lose his shit.

The departed smirked. “Then, we party.”

Yeah. No.

Not happening.

This was my problem, and I was not going to have these thugs tear apart Bleeding Hearts to make a point.

“I’m coming,” I rumbled, and Sasha’s brows pinched together as he put his arm out to block me. His turbulent eyes met mine, and I clapped him on the shoulder, leaned in, and spoke just loud enough so only he could hear me. “You warned me. I didn’t listen. Dove in headfirst, and now I gotta dig myself out.”

He could have said a number of things then, but he chose to say nothing, and he would never know how much I appreciated that he didn’t take his chance to say he told me so. Meant a lot. Because no one felt as much like an ass as I did at that moment.

Feigning an easy smirk, I gripped his shoulder tight, squeezing, hoping it conveyed the humblest of apologies. Sasha was my friend. My brother. My comrade. I didn’t mean to bring this shit onto his doorstep. I planned on the exact opposite. But no matter how hard I tried to keep it simple, somehow, I always managed to fuck up.

I asked myself why the world was against me. And the answer stung.

The world didn’t give a flying fuck about a schmuck like me. The sad truth was, I did this. There was nobody else to blame for the position I’d put myself in. Right in the center of Roam’s upturned palm. At any moment, his fingers would curl, crushing me whole. It wasn’t a matter of if but when.

And so I turned and began to walk toward a fate I no longer wanted but had written myself from my own bleeding fingertips.

I stalled midstride when I heard Nas call out to me. “Vik.” She looked around to the men surrounding me, then back to my solemn face. Her eyes wide and alarmed, she let out a soft, “Don’t go.”