Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  Vlad shakes his head.

  "That husband of yours is gonna get himself into trouble one day. You know he's been asking for it ever since he started digging into Jimenez. It's only a matter of time before they hear, and you know what will happen then.”

  "I'm well aware. Hell, I've been monitoring him ever since we got married, and I've killed every single potential danger. I'll just continue to kill anyone that intends to harm him."

  "Until when? How long? You can't keep going like that, B. You're not invincible either. If anything, this video should tell you that you're slipping. And in our world, when you slip, you die."

  "I know. Fuck, don't I know it... But he won't give up this crusade of his. He's going after Jimenez regardless of whether I approve or not."

  "It's a suicide mission."

  "I don't know what I can do. I honestly don't know. He doesn't even tell me that. Everything I know about him that's not on paper is by having him under surveillance. He hides from me just as much as I hide from him."

  "Then why don't you try a little truth for a change?" I give a fake laugh.

  "The moment he knows who I am... what I am.... is the moment he walks away. I am sure of it."

  "How can you be so sure? You've told me before that you heard he liked innocent women, so you turned yourself into one. But how do you really know he won't accept you for who you are?"

  "Because..." I say, aggravated at both myself and the situation. "He fucked me once against a wall, and then he was profusely apologizing by cooking and setting up a candlelight dinner. For a fucking quickie against the wall that was a little rougher than the norm. How do you think he'd react to me killing for a living because I enjoy it, not because I need the money? Better yet, how do you think he'd react to knowing he fucked me in the most obscene ways disguised as a hooker before I even met him as Bianca? Oh, and let's not forget the part where I stalked, tracked, and investigated him for years so I could mold myself into his ideal woman?" I'm breathing hard at this point, all my frustrations and worries out in the open.

  "Well... when you put it like that, it does sound bad."

  "Of course it sounds bad! Even to my ears, it sounds bad, and I did all that. Fuck me now..." I say, exasperated.

  "But have you thought that maybe if he knew the real you, he'd also show you the real him? Because I'm not convinced with that 'innocent woman' act. You know that men in my culture are often guilty of the Madonna-whore complex. He fits the mold. You also forget I've met the fucker. He's so stiff and proper; I'd never believed him capable of what he did to you as Pink. But he did. That tells me he's hiding something beneath the surface, and it's simmering. Men who hold it in like this... when they explode, it's not pretty."

  Biting my nails, I nod. "That's just the thing. For him, Bianca would be the Madonna and Pink the whore. But I don't think he could ever merge the two in his mind."

  "You won't know if you don't give him a chance. I'm telling you B, I just think there's more to the man than we know."

  "Ugh... I really didn't need this."

  "Now... back to your issue."

  "Which one?"

  "The coke. How often?"

  "Every couple of days," I reply hesitantly.

  "Hell B... it's not ok."

  "I know... but I've never had the time to properly wean myself off it."

  "You need to do it and soon. It might just get you killed."

  "Yeah..."

  "Tell your husband you have a trip abroad for your charity or whatever. I'll help you. You know I have the experience."

  "When?" I ask, thoughtfully considering his proposition. Just now, I realize how much the drugs have been messing with my mind. Vlad is right. I am slipping.

  "Next week?"

  "I'm meeting an arms dealer on Monday."

  "Good. This works. Come to the club on Friday. Say you will be gone for at least a week."

  "Vlad... ugh, I don't know. Won't he get suspicious? With the cheating thing and all?"

  "You need your wits about you B if you want to protect him and yourself. I didn't want to tell you this now, but Martinez's death caused quite the commotion among the cartels. There are whispers that Ortega is seeking retribution. And you know who the target will be."

  "Then, more than ever, I need to be with Theo."

  "I can have my people on him." I shake my head at his words. I can't leave Theo in the care of strangers.

  "I can't..."

  "Damn it, B."

  "Look, I can't leave. But I'll do my best to wean myself off on my own."

  Vlad sighs in defeat. "Fine. But you call me if you need anything."

  "Of course." I agree, and I go for a hug. For all his nagging, Vlad has been a prized friend for an awfully long time. He is probably one of the only people who know the whole truth about me, and I trust him with my life.

  "I should probably go."

  "Take care. And contact me if anything. I mean it."

  "I will" I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Then, before I leave, I go to the wall and retrieve my knife.

  "Thanks for everything, Berserker." I wink at him, and he groans.

  I am a certified sociopath if you couldn't already tell.

  You grow up surrounded by wealth and glitz but zero human connection. You act out in a manner that is typical to you, that is normal for you. You lie, cheat, deceive. Until someone comes along and tells you that's not normal. That you're not normal.

  That's what happened to me when I was ten. When I suddenly found out why my father ignored me and why the staff avoided me. I wasn't normal. I was defective. But I was also disruptive. Evil. If my father had been religious, he'd have called for an exorcism. But he was just cynical, so he'd shrugged it off and moved on.

  It wasn't until Drew was assigned as my bodyguard that someone pointed out my behavior as wrong. Different. He cared enough to get me professional help, even though the prognosis wasn't something to be proud of.

  Antisocial Personality Disorder.

  Suddenly there was a reason why I liked violence. Why I didn't value human life. Why I'd spin whatever lie I could to achieve my goals. The shrink told me the cause might be early childhood neglect and abuse. I didn't believe him. After all, I'd never cared if my father acknowledged me or not. I had my own world.

  But as I was growing up, so did my ideas evolve into more complex scenarios. Scenarios that put people at risk and made me into a danger to society. Or so I'd been told.

  My father didn't care. Of course, he wouldn't. I didn't care either because I didn't care about society. But Drew cared. Drew had a high sense of morality, and he felt it was his duty to ensure I was capable of controlling myself.

  He'd taken it upon himself to help me channel my rage and bloodthirst into more productive endeavors. He'd taught me how to fight, spar, and shoot. It was the shooting that soothed me. That calmed the rage. It started with pistols; then, when he discovered that I had an inclination for it, he'd taught me how to use sniper rifles. And that's how my love affair with shooting started.

  By the time I was sixteen, I was as well trained as any professional. But I also had something most didn't – a disregard for right or wrong. To make sure I kept my urges in check, Drew guided me towards mercenary work. I didn't kill because I needed the money. I killed because I needed to kill.

  In addition to my comprehensive skill set, I was also blessed with a small frame and quick reflexes that helped me get out of most situations. My penchant for disguises also came in handy, and I always managed to cover my traces thoroughly.

  I killed my first target the summer I turned sixteen. It wasn't glamorous or messy. Or anything, really. It was also how I met Vlad, three years my senior and one of the sons of the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, my contractor. He'd laughed at me when he'd been told I was accompanying him on the mission. We were to kill a Ukrainian official who had a fondness for underage girls and who had gotten on the Bratva's wrong side. Initially, Vlad was supposed to make the ki
lling while I'd serve as a distraction. I didn't really care about specifics. I'd gone to a hotel room with the man, and within five minutes, he’d been dead. When Vlad had come in to finish the job, he'd raged at me for stealing his kill.

  "I thought you said girls are useless." I'd raised an eyebrow at him and dared him to comment on it. He'd pursed his lips and told me to get out of there.

  That was the start of a very rocky partnership. We were paired together on different missions for the whole year, all of which ended in arguments and bickering. For all the disagreements, though, a pleasant camaraderie developed between us. I'd quickly recognized that Vlad, like me, did not have a moral compass. (Although his sense of humor was more developed than mine.) But we did share something far more critical than any feeling of right and wrong. Loyalty. While we both struggled with human companionship and social interactions, we recognized loyalty for what it was - the ultimate badge of honor.

  Although we were branded as monsters by society, we built our own honor system, and we held each other in the highest esteem. We became known as Artemis and the Berserker.

  Until it all changed.

  It was supposed to be an easy mission. We'd already proven ourselves as a reliable duo. It never occurred to us that we may not return from it alive.

  We were sent to accompany a shipment of drugs until it got into the hands of the Bratva. We quickly realized it was all a trap.

  "Shut it, malyshka, I'm trying to concentrate." He pinched his eyebrows in annoyance at my chatter while flinging the pages of his book. We were sitting around in the back of a truck while the delivery was being made.

  "You're no fun, Berserker," I replied, knowing he hates being called by that name.

  "If you don't stop talking, I'm going to stuff these pages down your throat."

  "I'd like to see you try." I flipped him off, and he put the book down, ready to charge me. We always sparred around. Just as he was about to make a grab for me, the truck came to a complete stop, and we were flung about.

  "Shit." We both said at the same time, composing ourselves and readying for whatever was happening on the outside. It didn't take long for the shots to start, from all directions.

  We looked at each other in confusion. No one had said anything about any danger. Our presence here was supposed to be a mere formality.

  Vlad removed his shashkas from the back. He always used two, one in each hand. It was strange, but he rarely used guns, preferring the intimate feeling of killing at close range. Whenever he started, however, he went on a killing spree, hence his code name Berserker. It was also why we were the perfect pair. I preferred guns, rarely relying on knives or any other types of weapons. And I always had his back.

  "Cover me," He said, and I nodded, removing two Glocks from my holsters and taking my stance. He opened the door to the cargo container with a kick, and we both quickly jumped and sought cover. We assessed the situation and saw that the driver had been killed as well the other people in the two cars accompanying us.

  "How many?" He asked, and I started scanning the surroundings.

  "I see two up front and three at the cars." I moved a little to the right to get a better view.

  "Another one is coming our way." I held my palm to Vlad and counted the seconds with my fingers. Vlad took my signal and charged the man as he was coming upon us. He crisscrossed his blades at the man’s neck, slashing his throat in one motion.

  "Take the front, I'll take the back." I nodded and went into the open. I cocked my guns and aimed, killing the two men at the truck's cockpit. From the corner of my eye, I saw Vlad sneaking around the two cars in front, almost upon the other three.

  They noticed me, so their attention was occupied. I lifted one of the men I'd killed and used him as a human shield. It wasn't easy as he was a mountain of a man. I was grateful when I saw Vlad throw two knives, each lodging into the men's skulls. The other two seemed disoriented, looking between Vlad and me.

  "Now!" Vlad yelled, and I flung the corpse from my side, ducked, rolled on the ground as shots were flying above my head, and took a kill shot as soon as I landed. That was the last man, the other already dead by Vlad's blade.

  I took a deep breath and joined Vlad.

  "Did you see?" He asked, looking at the carnage before us. I knew what he was referring to. We went to each and every one of the corpses and ripped the sleeves of their shirts.

  "It doesn't make sense," I said. We were looking at six individuals with Bratva tattoos. The Bratva tattoo that Vlad sported as well.

  "Fuck." He started towards one of the cars. "Get in!" I quickly followed, frowning at his urgency.

  "What?"

  "We need to get back to the quarters. This isn't good." We got into the car, and he already started the engine.

  "It's a coup."

  "A coup? But who?"

  "My stupid ass of a brother, that's who. Fuck! I should have seen it coming. Misha's always been power-hungry, but I didn't think he had it in him."

  "So, what, he kills the entire family to become Pakhan?"

  "Yes. And if we don't get there in time, it will be a blood bath." I'd never seen Vlad so serious. It wasn't until we got to the quarters that I realized why. He didn't care about his father. But his sisters? That was a different matter altogether.

  Just as Vlad suspected, his brother had indeed overtaken the quarters. We managed to pull the feed from some of the security cameras and noticed the men had been quickly replaced with people we didn't recognize. One of the cameras we managed to access was from the main hall of the house, and we could see traces of blood everywhere. Not shocking, Dima Kuznetsov, Vlad's father, and the Pakhan of the Bratva lay dead in the middle of the hall.

  A demonstration.

  Misha, his brother, and the traitor who'd started all this was currently addressing a few people from the center of the room.

  We drove fast, but it still took us a while before we got to the quarters. Nestled deep within Brooklyn, the quarters were around Shepherd's Bay. Because we'd been sent to Union Beach, NJ, it was a wonder we managed to make the journey in half an hour. Still, we were half an hour too late.

  In fact, the quarters of the Bratva were a couple of old mansions that housed the leading members of the organization and their families and where all-important business was conducted and other less legal means of coercing information out of people.

  Vlad didn't even bother to properly park the car as he got out and started towards the gates. Having gotten an idea of what was happening inside, I reached out and stopped him. Instinctively, he flipped my hand off.

  "Stop, you moron." I said, "Think about this, you're walking to your death." That statement made him pause.

  "So, what, I'll die with honor. Not a traitor."

  "You don't need to die if we are smart about this."

  "What do you have in mind?" He asked, and I smirked.

  "You got yourself a sniper, use it well." The moment the words were out of my mouth, the corner of his turned up too. He realized what I was thinking of. We spent a few minutes hashing out the plans, and then we both went in different directions of the house.

  Vlad went through the main gates, ready to greet the carnage made by his brother while I went towards a broken part of the fence. My goal was to first secure my gear. Having worked for a while now with the Bratva, I had my little office on the premises. Before advancing, though, I made sure my Glocks were fully charged with ammo, then I attached a silencer to each pistols' end. The key to our plan was the element of surprise that my arrival would cause. Vlad was to only shake things up a little until I got a good shot at Misha.

  I managed to sneak through the hole in the fence and then made my way across the lawn, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. Just as I was about to round the corner towards one of the back entrances, a man spotted me. I didn't hesitate as I pulled the trigger for a shot between his eyes. Lowering my gun, I sprinted across and entered the house.

  Two more people cam
e across me as I made my way towards my office, both of them now lying in a blood pool. Just as I was about to reach my destination, a bullet whizzed past my shoulder, taking some skin with it. It burned. Oh well, the pain gave me a new purpose. I smiled as I saw the man who'd taken the shot and returned the favor.

  I finally opened the door to my office, and with as much speed as I could muster, I assembled my favorite rifle and slung it across my shoulder. Now the more challenging part. To have a full view of the main house's hall, I had to go to the second building's surveillance tower. It was going to be a challenge to get there unnoticed.