Chapter 13 #2
I shook him hard, making his head whip back and forth. “Stop joking around. I’m serious, Lukyan. You say anything and I’ll tell Father who really crashed his Bugatti last year.”
Lukyan gasped, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed shakily.
My brows slammed down in determination. “Try me.”
His mouth opened, shut, opened again. His voice croaked, like he was having trouble getting the words out. “You’d tattle over a girl?”
“You tattle, I tattle.” Though, I didn’t really see it as tattling. More like payback. If he blabbed, I was going to make damn sure he was punished for it.
He huffed. “Fine,” he grumbled. He yanked himself out of my grip. “I won’t say shit. Nothing is worth incurring Father’s wrath. My shoulder still hurts from the last time he made me get in the ring with him.”
I grunted. I had a list a mile long of injuries my father had caused me over the years.
Lukyan studied me suspiciously. “You’re acting super weird. What gives? Don’t tell me you actually care for that chick?”
I gave him a level stare. “When have you ever known me to care about someone that wasn’t family?”
He snorted. “True. Have you managed to gather any more information from her? Surely after your ‘interrogation,’ you should have come away with some more info. Unless she wasn’t satisfied with your…skills.” He pumped his eyebrows up and down suggestively and I shoved him, making him laugh.
“My skills are unparalleled.”
“So, what’d she tell you then?” When I didn’t answer, he laughed again. “I’m guessing from your silence, nothing. You’re losing your touch, big brother,” he winked.
I went to slap him, and he jumped back, narrowly missing my hand.
“Uh oh. See? You’re getting slow in your old age.”
I shook my head, chuckling softly. Despite how much he annoyed me sometimes, I really was going to miss him when he left for New York tomorrow.
* * *
I stepped into Father’s office the following morning, trying to mask my irritation from the moment he called me in here. I knew exactly what it was regarding.
He warned me for days it was coming, but a part of me hoped it would fall through.
That I wouldn’t actually have to do it. There were so many other important things I had to deal with.
Having to train some kid who’s probably never thrown a decent punch in his life wasn’t exactly high up on my list of priorities right now.
Add in the fact that I’d barely gotten a lick of sleep last night and I was in a terrible fucking mood.
Sitting on the three-seater couch against the wall was Mikhail’s son, Dayton. He was a tall, lanky kid, with dark blonde hair that was tucked beneath a black snapback hat. A pair of huge headphones covered his ears, music blaring so loud I could hear it from the moment I opened the door.
He was slouched back into the couch, legs resting on the coffee table in front of him. He chewed loudly on a piece of gum, eyes plastered to his iPhone, not giving an ounce of his attention to my father or I.
First impressions were important, and he was already off to a bad start. I’d been around him all of three seconds and I already knew all I needed to know about him. He was disrespectful. Undisciplined. Rebellious.
Father didn’t raise his head from the mountain of paperwork taking over his desk as he waved me in. I was fairly confident all that paperwork was the only reason he allowed Dayton’s total lack of respect. He was too preoccupied with whatever was on those papers. “Come in, come in.”
I shut the door behind me and moved to stand in front of him. My eyes flicked to Dayton. He was still staring at his phone like neither my father nor I was even in the room.
That phone would be the first thing to go.
“Father,” I nodded.
“This is Dayton,” he said, pointing towards the couch, a stack of papers in his hand. “Dayton, this is—” he cut himself off when he realised the kid wasn’t listening, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Dayton,” he snapped.
No response.
“Dayton!” he tried again, his anger climbing.
Dayton continued looking at his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that my father was a second away from beating the crap out of him.
It was those damn headphones.
I marched over and snatched them off his head, snapping them in two.
“Dude! What the fuck?!” He shot off the couch in outrage and I shoved him back down with a push to the chest.
“When you step into this office, you give your complete and undivided attention to the Pakhan .”
Dayton glared. He opened his mouth to respond—something snarky and disrespectful, I assumed—but I didn’t give him the chance.
I slapped him across the face. It wasn’t meant to be hard or cause pain. Its primary objective was to be demeaning. Shocking. To make him shake his head and think ‘Did I really just get bitchslapped’?
Dayton cradled his cheek, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, like he couldn’t believe what just happened.
I continued talking, towering over him. “Not only will you show your respect by standing—”
“How can I stand when you just shoved me back down?” he grumbled under his breath.
“You will also only speak when spoken to.”
“You’re talking to me now. Does that count?”
Great. He had a snarky attitude to go along with that disrespectful nature. Training him was going to be a joy. I could already tell he was going to be way more trouble than he was worth.
I turned to Father. “Does Mikhail expect him back in one piece? Because I can’t guarantee he’ll be whole by the time I’m done with him.”
Father shrugged, unconcerned. His focus went back to the papers on his desk. “He didn’t specify. As long as he can still form coherent sentences, I don’t anticipate it being an issue. Did you see this?” He held up one of the papers, shaking it in the air at me.
I walked over and took it, scanning it quickly.
“What the fuck?” I growled, anger thundering through me.
It was insurance paperwork for a fire that burnt down one of our buildings a few days ago. According to the chief fireman, they’d found evidence of arson.
“Someone intentionally set the fire?”
“Yes,” Father ground out, teeth clenched. “There were remnants of a device found that they think ignited the fire. Traces of gasoline on the walls and floors, as well as other accelerants.”
“Any idea who did it?”
Father exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair.
“Take your pick. We have enemies surrounding us on all sides. The Los Zetas. The Dirty Vultures. The Outfit. My brother.” He shook his head.
“For all we know, it could be someone we don’t even know about.
The point is someone’s made a move against us, and we need to retaliate soon. We can’t leave this unanswered.”
He was right. If people heard about this, it would open the door for other attacks. People would think we were getting weak, that we couldn’t handle ourselves anymore. We couldn’t allow word to spread.
“I agree, but we need to be smart. We can’t just lash out without proof of who did it first.”
“I know that. Get Vladimir on the phone. I want—”
A loud pop cut through the air. My eyes snapped to Dayton. He chewed on his gum loudly, drawing it out into a large bubble until it popped again.
The vein in my father’s forehead throbbed like some angry beast. I don’t think Dayton realised how close my father was to shooting him in the leg. I’d seen him do a hell of a lot worse to someone for a hell of a lot less of an indiscretion than the one Dayton just displayed.
Shit, I’ve seen him cut one of our mens’ ears off because he wasn’t listening during a mission briefing. The fact that Father hadn’t snapped yet was a goddamn miracle. I had a feeling the only reason was because Dayton was Mikhail’s son.
Father’s phone rang. His attention switched from Dayton to his phone like a flick of a switch.
“Da?” Yes? He answered. “Yes, make sure it’s fuelled up and ready to go within the hour.
” He hung up and looked at me. “Go make sure your sister is packed and ready to leave. The jet is being prepped. I’ll deal with this,” he said, waving the insurance papers.
“And take him with you.” He glared at Dayton, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“Give him a tour of the grounds. Show him his room and get him settled in. I don’t want to see him again until he learns some fucking respect. ”
I hauled Dayton to his feet by his shirt. He fought against me, trying to push me away.
“Get the hell off me, man!”
“Shut up and walk.” I shoved him hard towards the door and he tripped, smashing his head into the wood. He cried out in pain. A string of profanities flew out of his mouth.
“I’ll look into the fire, try and figure out who’s responsible,” I said, opening the door.
“I said I would deal with it,” Father snapped.
“Yes, I heard you.” I walked out, pulling Dayton along.
I knew my father was more than capable of handling it, but I also knew how stressed he was at the moment, how much he was dealing with.
He was stretched pretty thin right now with everything going on.
Add on Grandfather’s impromptu visit in less than a week, and the fact that his only daughter was getting ready to fly the nest, and Father was liable to snap and kill anyone who pissed him off.
The last thing we needed was a visit from Mikhail because we killed his long-lost son.
I’d known Mikhail my whole life. He went to boarding school with my father and he was also Illayana’s Godfather. But the man was crazy.
I gave Dayton a quick tour of the house.
He complained the entire time, muttering condescending things under his breath like ‘rich people’, and ‘how many bathrooms does one place need?’.
I showed him the kitchen, dining area, warehouse (minus the pit hiding underneath) and finally his bedroom, which was on the second floor.
Dayton stomped into his room, glanced around and snorted. Ruth, one of the house maids, was straightening the bed when he walked in, fluffing the pillows and tucking the blankets in. She turned to face us at the sound of Dayton’s snort.
“Mr Volkov.” She bowed her head, standing with her hands behind her back.
Dayton shook his head. “What, do they spoon feed you and wipe your ass too?” he scoffed. “Lazy fucking rich people,” he grumbled, heading for his suitcases along the wall next to the bathroom.
Ruth’s face turned red in embarrassment. She shifted from foot to foot nervously, avoiding eye contact.
She was a kind old woman who did her job well and didn’t ask any questions.
And she sure as fuck didn’t deserve to be embarrassed by a little shit like Dayton.
My mother always taught us to honour and treat the maids and butlers with respect.
That just because they served us, it didn’t give us the right to treat them like garbage.
To disrespect them. It was something my siblings and I learnt at a very early age.
Dayton sifted through his luggage until he found another pair of headphones, slamming them over his ears. Music blasted from them instantly. He flopped down on the bed, listening to something heavy-metal, full of screaming. He kicked his shoes off and focused on his phone.
That’s it.
“You’re excused, Ruth. Thank you.”
She bowed again and left.
I waited until she was gone before I walked over, ripped the headphones from Dayton’s head and snapped them in half like I did his first pair.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” Dayton shrieked in fury, jumping to his feet. He threw a punch and I caught it in my palm, my fingers wrapping around his fist.
I could tell from that one move alone what I suspected about him was true; he couldn’t throw a decent punch to save his life. There was little to no power behind the strike. The technique was all wrong and if his hit had actually connected, he most likely would have broken his hand.
I twisted his wrist sharply, making him cry out in pain and drop to his knees. I was tempted to break it, snap it in half and show him what real pain was. But, as much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t. He would be even more useless to me than he was now with a broken wrist.
“Fuck! Let me go! You’re hurting me!” he yelled. “You can’t do this! My dad—”
I pulled out my knife and held it to his throat. Dayton froze, his eyes widening. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face all at once; fear, shock, disbelief.
“Your father sent you here to be trained. He knows exactly what that entails. You’re not the first person he’s sent to us.
I obviously wasn’t clear enough back in my father’s office, so I’m going to clarify it for you.
The next time you step out of line, I’m going to cut you.
” To get my point across, I carved a line into his cheek.
It was a shallow cut. Superficial. But he screamed like I was sawing off one of his fingers. He had a low pain tolerance. We’d have to work on that.
“You get two cuts. One, for continuing to be disrespectful after I warned you not to. And two, for speaking out of turn,” I said, cutting a similar line down his other cheek.
“You’re fucking crazy!” he shrieked, trying to fight against me.
I tightened my grip on his wrist and he winced. I cut into his skin again, this time on his arm. “Can you guess what that one was for?”
“Fuck you!”
Another slice down his arm.
“Argh! Stop cutting me!”
“Stop talking!” I roared in his face.
He flinched, shrinking back in fear.
I leaned forward, getting into his space, and lowered my voice.
“The sooner you understand that things are very, very different here, the easier your life will be. You are now a part of a world that normal, everyday people never get to see into, probably don’t even know exists.
It’s a world of violence. Blood. Death. It’s completely different to the one you know.
Things are expected of you here. Certain behaviours and actions will not be tolerated.
Dissension is dangerous in our world and puts everyone at risk.
It is something we will not accept. Whether you want to be here or not doesn’t matter.
You’re here now and you will learn to abide by our rules, or suffer the consequences. ”
When he didn’t say a word back, managing to keep his mouth shut longer than ten seconds, I let him go and stepped away.
Dayton watched me cautiously, rubbing his wrist. He was looking at me completely differently, like someone to be weary of. To fear.
As he should.
Blood trickled down his face and arm, bright red splotches staining his white bed sheets.
“Get yourself cleaned up and be waiting in the front yard in fifteen minutes.”
He glared but wisely didn’t say a word.
I should have known it wouldn’t last though.
As I walked out, shutting the door behind me, he yelled, “You owe me two pairs of headphones, asshole!”