8. Maxim
CHAPTER EIGHT
maxim
Age 15
Spittle flew from my father’s mouth as he screamed at me in Russian. The belt flew across my back, the buckle cutting deep into my skin. I’d learned long ago that the best defense was to keep my mouth shut, to hold as still as possible. His rage burned hot, but his stamina was shit.
“Those whores were meant for the Albanians. You had one job. One,” he shouted in heavily accented English as he swung the belt again.
Unfortunately for my father, his container had caught on fire. The bodies burnt beyond recognition. If he were smarter, he’d realize that the bodies weren’t all young women, but they were mixed with older women, too. He might catch on that they were already dead before the container caught fire, but he was stupid.
Lev, one of my father’s vors, kept his face towards the floor as I was beaten. His face was wiped clean of emotion, even though I knew it killed him to watch me be hurt. He’d helped me haul the bodies from four morgues and relocate the trafficking victims before lighting the container on fire.
“I’m sorry, pakhan,” I said clearly.
I couldn’t always intervene, but this time, the path had been clear and relatively easy.
“You were supposed to be there a day earlier, mudak.”
Another blow, but his strength was failing, and it glanced off my back. He threw the belt to the floor.
“Clean it up. Next time you better not fuck up, Maxim,” he threatened. “This is your inheritance, too. Next time, I will beat that brother you love so much.”
“Yes, pakhan.”
The air was cold enough to burn when you breathed it in. It was frosty in the early evening, but Manhattan was still alive, with the hum of traffic and distant sirens weaving through the rhythmic pulse of the city. But here, in the dim glow of a lone streetlight, the world felt smaller, more intimate—the kind of place where violence could unfold without interruption.
I leaned against the black SUV, the cold metal biting through my tailored coat. Lev stood a calculated distance away, a shadow against the brick walls. His presence was a warning—silent, immovable.
Across the narrow strip of cracked pavement, Dante Caruso emerged from the other side. His swagger was unmistakable, his sharp features set in a sneer that hadn’t changed in decades. His disdain hit me like the stale stench of garbage that clung to the air.
Dante had been making noise for months now, whispering threats, making phone calls that ended in silence, and confronting my operations one too many times. Tonight, that noise would end.Dante was going to stop his yapping.
“You’re bold, showing your face here,” he said, stepping forward.
“You think so?” My voice was calm but was laced with a warning. “We both know how this ends, Caruso.”
Dante stopped a few feet away, his hand on the grip of a pistol tucked into his waistband. He didn’t pull it, not yet. His smile was venomous, curling up like smoke from a dying fire.
“This ends with your blood on the pavement, Maxim,” he spat, his voice thick with his Bronx accent. “You think you’re untouchable? You’re just a scumbag in a nicer suit.”
I took another step, my men mirroring me without a word. “You’ve been running your mouth, Dante. Let’s not pretend this is about business.”
Dante’s face twisted with something darker, his bravado slipping into something raw. “Business? You think this is about fucking business ? This is about what your father did—what you let him do. Girls, Maxim. Trafficked like cattle. And you—” He jabbed a finger toward me, his voice rising. “You stood by. You didn’t stop him.”
The accusation hung between us, heavy as lead. For a moment, the city seemed to go quiet, the noise of the world muffled under the weight of what he’d said.
Shame spread like tar. This was something that I carried with me.
I’d done my fucking best for those lost girls. Bled to the bone for them.
I clenched my fists, my jaw tight. “I was a boy,” I said, each word deliberate, cold. “A boy with no power. And my father? He paid for his sins.”
“Not enough,” Dante snarled. His hand twitched toward the gun, but he didn’t draw. “You think I give a shit about your excuses? You’re just like him, Maxim. A fucking monster hiding like a coward.”
I didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Be very careful, Dante.”
He laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “Careful? No, you don’t get to play righteous. You’re filth. And filth gets cleaned up.”
That was it. The leash snapped.
Before Dante could pull his weapon, I surged forward, slamming my fist into his jaw. The crack of bone meeting bone echoed through the alley as he staggered back, blood spraying from his mouth.
He recovered quickly, drawing his pistol, but I was faster. A well-placed shot struck Dante’s hand, sending the gun clattering to the ground. He screamed, clutching his mangled fingers, his curses falling into incoherent snarls.
I grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the brick wall. My forearm pressed into his throat as he gasped for air, his good hand clawing uselessly at my coat.
“You think you know me?” I hissed, my face inches from his. “You think you know what it was like?”
Dante laughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “I know enough… you were there .”
I drew my knife—a sleek, black blade honed to perfection—and pressed it against his cheek. “Well, Dante. You’ve stepped into the darkness. You think I’m a monster. You have no idea. You want the monster, Dante? Now you’ll get him.”
His eyes widened, and for the first time, there was fear. Real, tangible fear.
“Maxim,” he croaked, his bravado crumbling. “Wait?—”
I didn’t let him finish. With a swift motion, I slashed the knife across his face, leaving a deep, jagged gash that would scar him for life if he lived.
Dante screamed, collapsing to the ground as I let him go. He writhed on the pavement, his blood pooling beneath him, a stark contrast against the grimy concrete.
I crouched beside him, wiping the blade clean on his coat. “This is me sparing you,” I said, my voice low and steady. “You speak my name again, and I’ll bury you alongside any family you have left. That’s a fucking promise. From me to you.” I pressed my fingers into the wound until he screamed. “I’ll tell you a secret, mudak. I never break a promise.”
Standing, I motioned to Lev. He stepped forward, delivering a swift kick to Dante’s ribs before dragging him out of the alley.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant wail of a siren. I turned back toward the SUV and slipped the knife into its sheath.
Dante’s words lingered in my mind, sharp as the blade in my hand. But his judgment didn’t matter. Only one truth remained.
The sins of my father were not my own, but the man I was now? I damn well made sure no one forgot the name, Maxim Volkov .
I sat in the back of the black SUV, the city blurring past in a kaleidoscope of lights and movement. New York felt charged with an energy that matched my mood. I was still keyed up from my confrontation with Dante. Dumb little fucker. I’d even had to change my shirt and jacket because of that asswipe.
Now, I could turn to the enjoyable part of my evening, not that I hadn’t enjoyed cutting up Dante’s face. The thought that he’d be scarred forever by my blade did make me happy. However, enemies walking around weren’t good to have. Caruso would have to go sooner rather than later, especially with my upcoming nuptials.
I tugged at the cuff of my tailored suit, the motion habit more than anything, as I mentally replayed my last conversation with Conall.
We’d agreed that I’d go first; I had not been too concerned at first. Many men in our line of work were in such marriages. They gave their wives an allowance and set them up in their own homes. I could have my life, and she could have hers. Hell, I could even put her on the other side of the country. Stick her over on the West Coast. I’d had my cousin Natasha draw up the contract when Conall had initially had us draw names — made it official that we could dwell in separate spaces.
But I didn’t think that was going to work. Cora was nothing like I’d imagined. She wasn’t the sort of woman that you put somewhere. She was the sort of woman you came home to. I knew just from the one encounter I’d had with her.
I couldn’t wait to find out how she took the news of our nuptials. I grinned as the car pulled up to Conall’s building, and I stepped out into the cool winter air. Two of my men fell into step behind me, as always, sharp-eyed and ready.
Finn O’Donoghue, Conall’s assigned shadow for Cora, was waiting near the apartment door. He straightened when he saw me, his expression already set in defiance and colored with disapproval. The four of us had set our alliance, but that didn’t mean our men had set aside their prejudices. Conall was out for the evening, something he had to do on the docks, so I was on my own tonight with Cora and her bodyguard.
“Evening,” Finn greeted me, his Irish lilt sharper than usual. “I’ll be joining you tonight.”
I stopped, meeting his gaze squarely. “You’re not.”
I doubted it would work, but I thought I’d try it.
Finn took a step forward, his shoulders stiff. “She’s my responsibility.”
“And now she’s mine,” I replied smoothly, my tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not needed.”
Finn hesitated, clearly itching to argue. “My orders are clear. I go where she goes. It’s non-negotiable. Once she’s your wife, she’s your responsibility, but until then, she’s still an O’Kelly.”
I could feel Lev at my shoulder, just itching to put a bullet in him, but Finn was Conall’s man and under his orders. They weren’t unreasonable.
“Understood.” I jerked my head towards the door, ready to be done with this little chat. Finn curled his lip but knocked on the door and moved to the side, which I’d take as a win.
The sight of her was like a punch to the gut. Seeing her today was different than yesterday now that I knew this was the woman I’d be sharing my life with. Her dark hair was swept up into a ponytail, exposing her neck, and those green eyes—sharp, unflinching—met mine fearlessly. I loved that she was unafraid. Most people dropped their eyes, but not her. She was still dressed like an urchin. Either she didn’t have proper clothes for dinner, or she was protesting.
Still, in her torn jeans and rubber rain boots, she was stunning with her full breasts that pushed against the t-shirt she was wearing that said, ‘ Zombies Eat Brains, Don’t Worry You’re Safe .’
“You ready to go? Do you have a jacket? It’s cold out.”
She tilted her head at me as if waiting for me to complain about her clothes, but she would be waiting a long time if that was the case. I didn’t give a fuck what she wore. If other people didn’t like what she had on, that was too bad. Cora could wear what she wanted. People like my father would have wanted to dress her up like a fancy doll, but I wasn’t going to be that man who made my wife into a Barbie doll.
“Yes.” She frowned and gave a half-hearted shrug.
“Get it so we can go then. I’m starved.”
She hesitated, then stepped almost out of the apartment, looking at me before returning to the interior.
“What is it, zayka?” She did look like a little rabbit hesitating. Like prey , but the endearment slid out of my mouth like I’d known her for years. It felt easy and right. The lines between her forehead wrinkled slightly like she was thinking. Those lips of hers made me think all sorts of tempting thoughts.
“Can I bring my camera?” she asked.
Camera. Why would she bring a camera?
“I haven’t been in New York yet — into the city today. I might see something that I want to take a picture of?” Her cheeks pinkened. “Never mind.”
“Of course, you can bring your camera.”
It was a terrible idea. There was no scenario where I wanted a camera around me, but her face lit up, and she darted off.
“Pakhan,” Lev started, probably thinking the same thing I was thinking.
My glare silenced him, and his mouth straightened in a thin line. He should know better than to speak out of turn. I would decide what I allowed or didn’t allow. Cora practically skipped back into view with a camera over her shoulder. It was one of those fancy ones that you saw the paps using.
I was intrigued.
Cora bounced lightly on her toes as she slung the camera strap across her body, clearly pleased with my agreement. Her enthusiasm starkly contrasted with the tension radiating from Lev, who was undoubtedly biting his tongue so hard it bled. The thought pleased me. Still lingering by the door, Finn looked equally unimpressed but kept his comments to himself.
“Shall we?” I gestured to the door, and she brushed past me, her ponytail swinging. There was something magnetic about her energy. I could see how she looked at me from under her lashes that she was just as interested in me, so I’d take that as a positive sign.
The car was waiting, and Lev and Finn checked the area as we exited. It didn’t keep me from placing my palm on her back and guiding her close to me. She jumped slightly but didn’t complain as we moved to the car. I kept my head on a swivel. Our positions meant that we had enemies. My guys were good, but I could protect her if someone were foolish enough to try.
Cora slid into the armored SUV without hesitation, settling into the plush leather seat with ease, telling me she was no stranger to comfort, even if she tried to play the rebellious street kid. I followed, the door closing with a soft thud as Lev took his place up front.
The SUV moved smoothly into the traffic flow, and the city blurred around us, a symphony of lights and motion. Cora fiddled with her camera, adjusting the lens and checking the settings, focusing entirely on the device. Although I guessed she used it more as a shield so she didn’t have to talk to me.
She raised it and framed me in the lens, snapping a few photos. Lounging against the bench seat of the SUV, I stretched my arm over the back close enough to feel her hair brush the back of my hand.
“You always take that thing everywhere?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She glanced up, smirking. “Not everywhere. Just places that might be interesting.”
“And you think dinner with me qualifies?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” she shot back, her eyes sparkling. “The city is interesting. You’re just… an extra.”
I chuckled, charmed despite myself. Shaking my head, I said, “Careful, zayka. You might hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, I’m sure a man like you has feelings to spare,” she teased, her tone light but cutting.
I laughed again, genuinely amused. “Touché.”
The banter felt easy and natural, but beneath it, I was recalibrating. She was quick, perceptive, and unafraid to challenge me. If I wanted this marriage to work—and it must work—it wouldn’t be on my terms alone. I’d have to find a balance, which I wasn’t used to.
“What are you hungry for?”
“Pizza? I’m dying for pizza.” She blushed. “If you wanted to go somewhere fancy, that’s cool. I just don’t have clothes for that. So you’ll have to take me as I am.”
I stared at her impassively, and I struggled to hold my temper. What the fuck did she mean she didn’t have clothes?
“Doesn’t seem like Conall to be cheap with his sister,” I said carefully. I was close with Conall, but Cora was a topic not discussed, and honestly, I never asked about her. I had always had other things to worry about. “But of course, we can have pizza. And I’ll definitely take you any way I can get you.”
Her eyes widened.
Speaking in Russian to Lev, I told him to take us to our favorite pizza joint in Brooklyn but to take the long way. It was in Angelo’s territory, but that wouldn’t be an issue. I still wanted more time to talk to her without Finn. He was in the second vehicle with our other guards, which probably pissed him off.
“Conall’s not cheap. I have a credit card, but I’ve been in Dublin.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to fancy dinners and stuff there. No reason to waste money.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded, but I liked hearing that she hadn’t been going to fancy dinners. “So, what did you do in Dublin all this time?”
“Went to school. Took pictures. I’m not very interesting.” She shrugged and snapped a few more pictures out the window.
“Oh, I disagree.” I didn’t move from my spot on the other side of the car, but she raised her camera again and snapped a photo. “Did you have a guy? In Dublin?” I tried to ask nonchalantly, but I wasn’t sure I managed as she cocked her head at me.
“A guy? She looked up, her camera poised mid-frame.
“Conall told you about our fathers? Their agreement with each other?”
“Yeah.” Her gorgeous green eyes narrowed as she pivoted towards me, giving me her full attention.
“This arrangement, as unorthodox as it may be, doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she lowered the camera. “Unpleasant? That’s a low bar.”
“It’s a starting point,” I countered. “We’ll build from there.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “You think we can make this work? Two strangers thrown together for the sake of… what? Power? Money?”
“And survival,” I added, my voice firm. “This isn’t just about us, Cora. It’s about our families and their futures. That kind of responsibility doesn’t leave room for personal whims.”
Her expression hardened, and she leaned back against the seat. “So, I’m just a tool in the grand scheme of things for you. Good to know. What would it matter if I had a guy then?” She waved her free hand, and those eyes sparked with anger. “Maybe more than one guy.”
The thought made me irrationally angry, and I leaned into her space, crowding her back against the window the camera smashed between us. Her breath hitched.
“I guess it doesn’t matter.” I caged her throat with my hand so I could feel her pulse under my thumb — caressed the skin there as I squeezed just hard enough that she could feel it. “You’re mine now,” I growled.
I waited a beat until I saw her pupils blown wide and eased back to my side.
She scoffed, shaking her head. “Spoken like a true bratva boss. That’s what you are, right? bratva?” Her voice was thready, and her fingers were shaking as she fiddled with the settings on her camera.
“Yes.”
“Great. A criminal.”
I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, but I didn’t like that she might be. She stared out the window for a few minutes, watching the lights of the city pass us by, leaving me to contemplate how I’d fucked the conversation up. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the tactic of saying that it was about the alliance. I should have leaned harder into the idea that I wanted it to work because she intrigued me. I thought she and I could be a good couple together. Why were women so complicated?
“Do you think you could kill a zombie?” she asked suddenly with all seriousness, biting her bottom lip in a way that made my cock hard.
“A zombie?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah. Like if there were zombies. Like the Walking Dead kind. Could you kill one?”
I considered the gorgeous beauty across from me with those rosebud lips and sparkling green eyes.
“A thousand percent, zayka.” She smiled at me and raised her camera again, and I felt like I passed some kind of test. Of course, she was crazy as a loon, but I’d kill all the zombies if that’s what she wanted.