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CHAPTER 1

Maxim

From the moment I opened the encrypted email from the account I used to communicate with my Russian brethren back in Moscow, the reason I wanted Pierce Sutherland dead changed

In the dark of the supposedly ehting the Cyrillic title of the file I decompressed

Over fifty JPEGs spooled out, and I clicked through them The majority showedout with a grie should never have known

Her naton and I’d been obsessed with her froh the scope of my rifle from the apartment opposite the Chelsea hoet

It wasn’t her face I was focused on Each i someday for myself up close, without the barrier of a lens, but I never wanted to see it like this In so her ribs Other pictures, I could ers of his fist

I heard a growl, before I realised the sound had come from my throat

I already knew the arsehole treated his stepdaughter worse than I’d treat a dog, but the photographs Valentin Rozhkov, my handler and second in command to the current Bratva Autoritat, Yakov Tih orse than I’d expected

In that iven fewer fucks about why the Russian President wanted hianisation that his investigation had hanging in the balance Pierce Sutherland was going to look ret every fly he’d ever swatted, every spider he’d ever crushed And then I was going to carve hi her and relish every scream

“Our hacker pulled them from her computer, Maxim I think you have what you need to approach her now”

The clipped Russian accent carain of interference, despite the distance between Moscow and London Unlike Tiood kit He also kneell enough to knoasn’t going to let what thispass

“I’ to rip his head off, and feed his bloody body to the pigs”