Chapter 49
DROGO
The moment Alena disappears up the stairs, I turn back to the three men at the table and switch to Russian. "Talk," I say, my voice low and hard.
Konstantin leans forward, his expression grim. "Klaus is moving. We have intel from Viktor —he is coming to London. Could be as soon as this week."
My blood runs cold. "Why?"
"Not sure yet. Could be to check on operations. Could be he suspects something." Konstantin glances toward the stairs where Alena went. "Either way, the women cannot be alone. Not for a single minute."
I nod slowly, my mind already racing through contingencies. "Alena and Lucy both get full protection. Round the clock. I want two men on each of them at all times, rotating shifts every six hours. No exceptions."
"Already arranged," Dmitri says. " Viktor assigned his best men."
"Good." I pull out my phone and text Marcus: We need to talk. Now. Then I stand, pushing my chair back. "I need to tell Alena her guards are coming with her today. She is not going to like it."
Konstantin smirks. "No, probably not."
I head upstairs, already planning how to explain this without making her feel like a prisoner again, but when I open the bedroom door the explanation dies in my throat.
She is bent over at the waist in nothing but her panties, leaning down to search through a lower drawer, and the sight of her ass perfectly displayed makes my cock go rock hard instantly.
I close the door behind me immediately and lock it, crossing the room in three long strides. My hands grip her waist, and I pull her back against me, letting her feel exactly how hard I am through my sweatpants. My other hand wraps around her throat, bringing her head back against my chest.
"Hold the dresser, babe," I growl in her ear, and I watch her hands fly out to grip the edge of the furniture. Damn, that is my good girl. I hook my fingers in her panties and slide them down slowly, watching her step out of them obediently.
"Drogo—" she starts, but I cut her off by sliding two fingers between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing slow circles. She moans immediately, her hips pushing back against my hand, and I can feel her getting wet already.
"Quiet," I murmur. "People are downstairs." But even as I say it, I am pushing my sweatpants down and lining myself up at her entrance. I push in slowly, watching her back arch, feeling her walls stretch around me as I fill her inch by inch.
She gasps loudly, and I remember my own warning about the men downstairs. No man is hearing my woman scream except me. I cover her mouth with my hand, muffling the sounds as I start to move, thrusting deep and hard, using my grip on her throat to control the angle.
She moans against my palm, the vibrations going straight to my cock, and I pick up the pace.
The dresser shakes with every thrust, items rattling on top of it, but I do not care about anything except the feeling of being inside her, of claiming her again, of making sure she goes through her day carrying the evidence of what we just did.
My hand on her throat tightens slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to hold her exactly where I want her, and I feel her clench around me in response.
She likes it—likes being held, controlled, claimed like this.
I thrust harder, deeper, changing the angle until she is practically screaming into my hand.
"That is it," I growl against her ear. "Take it. Take all of me." I can feel her getting close, her body trembling, her walls fluttering around my cock. I slide my free hand down to rub her clit again, and she comes hard, clenching around me so tight I see stars.
I keep thrusting through her orgasm, prolonging it, making it last until she is shaking and whimpering. Then I let go, slamming deep one final time and coming hard inside her, filling her completely while my hand stays firm over her mouth to muffle both our sounds.
We stay there for a moment, both breathing hard, and then I pull out slowly. "On your knees," I command, my voice rough. "Clean my cock, Alena. I want you to carry my taste through the day."
She turns and drops to her knees without hesitation, looking up at me with those dark eyes as she takes me into her mouth.
I am still half-hard, sensitive from coming, and the feeling of her tongue cleaning me makes me groan.
She works thoroughly, licking every inch, sucking gently, making sure nothing is wasted.
When she is finished, she sits back on her heels and looks up at me, and I reach down to cup her face. "Good girl," I murmur, stroking her cheek with my thumb. "Now get dressed. Your guards are coming with you today."
Her eyes narrow. "What?"
"Klaus is coming to London. You do not go anywhere without protection until this is over." I help her to her feet. "Non-negotiable."
She opens her mouth to argue, but something in my expression stops her. "Fine," she says finally. "But they stay in the car."
"No." I kiss her forehead. "Get ready. I will be downstairs.
" And I walk back leaving the room fast before her Balkan stare takes place. Fuck I have no idea who is scarier. Klaus or her. I kind of think it’s her.
I glance at her before closing the bedroom door.
She looks at me now. Her. She is scarier.
· · ·
Marcus arrives an hour later with two men I recognize from Konstantin's crew. We gather in my office—a room I claimed in Alena's house and filled with the equipment I need to run operations. Konstantin and Dmitri are already there, and I pour six glasses of vodka before sitting behind the desk.
Marcus takes his glass and downs it in one swallow, then looks at me. "So. The mafia."
"The mafia," I confirm. "You sure about this?"
"You are my brother. If this is what it takes to keep you alive and get Klaus dead, then yes. I am sure." He sets his glass down. "Tell me what I need to know."
I refill his glass and lean back in my chair. "First, understand what you are joining. The Bratva is not just an organization—it is a brotherhood. Once you are in, you are in for life. There is no leaving. No retiring. You die in or you die out."
Marcus nods. "I understand."
"Do you?" I lean forward. "Because this means blood, Marcus. Not just metaphorical—actual blood. You will kill people. You will hurt people. You will do things that keep you awake at night."
"I have done worse for less," he says quietly.
"At least this time it is for family." I know what he means.
Marcus was the one that put me in the pits.
He is more brutal than me. More strategic and angrier.
Perfect combination for a killer. And I know, Marcus will sleep easier at night than me.
Now that Lucy could be in danger, fuck he will smile before getting in bed at night.
Konstantin speaks up from his position by the window. "Klaus is on the move. We have confirmation he is flying to London in three days. He is bringing his inner circle—six men, maybe more. This is either a routine check or he suspects something."
"Which means what?" Marcus asks.
"Which means we need to be ready for anything," I say. "If he suspects I am planning something, he will move against me. And if he moves against me, he will use the people I love as leverage."
"Alena and Lucy," Marcus says. It is not a question.
"Yes. That is why they both have full protection details now. Round the clock, no exceptions." I pour another round of vodka. "And that is why I need you ready to move when I give the signal."
"What signal?" Marcus asks.
"When Klaus makes his move—and he will make a move—I am going to kill him. But I need to do it in a way that consolidates power, not fractures it. The men need to see that I am the rightful heir, that Klaus's death is justified, that following me is the smart play."
Dmitri nods. "Most of the younger men are already loyal to you. They see Klaus as weak, cruel for cruelty's sake. You are different—strategic, honorable. They will follow you."
"But the old guard will not," Konstantin adds. "Klaus has men who have been with him for decades. They will fight for him out of loyalty or fear or both."
"How many?" Marcus asks.
"Maybe thirty percent of our forces," I say. "But they are older, slower. If we move fast and decisively, we can minimize casualties."
Marcus downs his second shot. "So, what do you need me to do?"
"Learn. Train. Be ready." I slide a folder across the desk. "Konstantin will teach you the basics—protocol, hierarchy, how to spot a tail, how to lose one. Dmitri will handle weapons training. I need you competent in three days."
"Three days," Marcus repeats, opening the folder. "That is not much time."
"It is what we have." I stand and walk to the window, looking out at the street where Alena just left with her guards. "Klaus coming here is either an opportunity or a trap. Either way, it ends with one of us dead."
"It will be him," Marcus says with absolute certainty. "We will make sure of it."
I turn back to face them—Marcus, Konstantin, Dmitri, the beginnings of my own crew, my own brotherhood separate from Klaus. "Then let us get to work. We have three days to prepare for war."
We raise our glasses together, and the vodka burns going down, but it is nothing compared to the fire building in my chest. Klaus is coming.
Good. Let him come. He thinks he is arriving to inspect his empire, to check on his heir, to reinforce his control.
What he does not know is that he is walking into a trap.
And this time, I am the one setting it.