“Coming back to L.A. was a mistake,” he tells me. “He has spies everywhere. Until then, he thought you were dead.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying dead forever.”
“Yahontov,” one of the armed soldiers snarls, coming forward. “What the f**k are you doing?”
“Warning him,” he replies. “And now he’s been warned. We have you surrounded, Artem. It’s time to put your guns down.”
But as he talks, I notice some of the soldiers at his back move imperceptibly. They slip behind their own men.
I sense in my gut what’s about to happen.
Fuck, I hope I’m right.
I don’t turn my eyes away. Just wait patiently. There’s a signal coming—I just don’t know what it is.
“It’s time to give up,” Yahontov intones.
And apparently, that’s the sign.
Half of Budimir’s men turn on the other half.
It’s brutal and s
