Sergei (Satan’s Fury MC: Little Rock #7)

Prologue

Iwas eight when I found out what kind of man my father really was.

Not just from the stories or rumors.

Not from the whispered warnings from my mother or the house staff.

Not even from the fearful tension that followed him around like a dark shadow.

That night, I saw it for myself.

It was late. I should’ve been in bed hours ago, but I was feeling restless and couldn’t sleep.

I decided to make a run to the kitchen. I started down the stairs, and each step seemed to groan under my bare feet.

It didn’t matter how many nightlights my mother put out; the house always felt big and cold, empty and dark.

Especially back then.

Maybe it was my overactive imagination or the fact that I was just an all-around nervous kid, but the place had always given me the creeps. It didn’t help matters that I knew there’d be hell to pay if my father caught me out of my room.

He was a stickler for the rules and was heavy with the hand whenever you stepped out of line.

I was supposed to be in my room and in my bed, sound asleep.

He wouldn’t care that I’d spent the past two hours tossing and turning and had all but fallen out of bed.

He’d made the rule, and his rules were to be followed.

I was already scared. It didn’t help matters that the house was quiet. It was like it was holding its breath. My stomach knotted, and my skin prickled as if the air itself knew something I didn’t. Then I heard it. The low, sharp tone of my father’s voice.

The second I heard it, I knew I’d been right.

Something was wrong.

I stopped cold and held my breath, and I quickly determined that his voice was coming from his office. That room was sacred ground. My brothers and I were never allowed in there or even near it, but there was something about the tone in the man’s voice that made me inch closer.

That’s when I noticed the door wasn’t closed all the way.

I leaned to the side, taking a peek through the crack, and saw Yuri kneeling in front of my father.

He was one of my father’s businessmen who’d worked for him for years.

He drove a black Benz and used to sneak me chocolate when no one was looking.

I liked him.

He seemed like a good, decent guy, and I couldn’t understand why he was kneeling in front of my father with tears in his eyes. Then, I heard my father roar, “You think because we are in America, my rules no longer apply?”

He was speaking Russian. It was something he did when he was truly angry. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, the man brought his hands up with his palms together like he was praying for the lord above him to take mercy. “No! No! I would never go against you.”

“But you did.” My father’s tone dropped to a low, menacing level as he snarled, “And you must pay for your betrayal.”

“Please. I beg of you,” Yuri cried. “It was a mistake. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” My chest tightened when he stepped into my line of sight.

His sleeves were rolled just past his big, silver watch, and his tie was loose around his neck.

He looked more like a banker than a killer, but that only made it worse.

The vein in his neck pulsed as he growled, “I brought you in. I treated you like family, and you stole from me! You stole from the family! Do you know what that means, Bratan?”

“Please. I’m sorry.” Tears filled Yuri’s eyes. “My family—”

“My family! My name,” my father interrupted. “No more of this nonsense!”

Then he looked to Max and gave him a nod.

Max was one of my father’s most trusted guards, and as usual, he was standing in the corner, stone-faced and silent.

He was always silent. Always watching. He reached into the sheath attached to the side of his pants pocket and pulled out a knife with a wooden handle and a straight, narrow blade with a slight curve.

His face was void of expression as he stepped forward.

Yuri continued to plead for mercy, but my father was done listening to him babble. He turned and reached for his glass of vodka as he told Max, “Make it quick.”

I watched Max move behind Yuri and press the blade against his throat.

The edge bit in, and a thin line of bright red appeared.

That’s when I stepped back and closed my eyes.

I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t make myself watch. My stomach twisted when I heard the stifled gurgle and then Yuri’s last gasp. It was a broken, rattling breath that stuttered from his chest and was immediately followed by a hard thud.

Then nothing.

My head started to spin, but I forced myself to remain quiet.

Even back then, I understood that crying made you weak, and if you were weak, you were prey.

It was a lesson I’d learned when I stepped out of line and met my father’s leather belt for the first time.

Each time I cried, I received another lashing.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to learn to keep my tears to myself.

Once I was back in my room, I closed the door and locked it, then slipped into my bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to come to terms with the fact that my father truly was a monster. It was a realization that broke something inside of me.

There would be no more hoping that one day he would be a better father.

There would be no more hoping that he would be a better husband to our mother. He was who he was, and he made no apologies for it.

In order to survive him, I had to become a monster, just like him.

I became ruthless and cruel. I faced the evilest of men and made them drop to their knees. I was a legacy in the making, but when my father died, I didn’t take his crown. Instead, I took my inheritance and every lesson I’d ever learned from being my father’s son, and I walked away.

I took what I had learned and used it to start a legacy of my own.