17. Damian
CHAPTER 17
DAMIAN
I’m halfway through my second cup of coffee in the clubhouse common room when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s early, and the place is still waking up—some of the brothers are filtering in, grabbing breakfast or nursing their hangovers. Stunt and Shaft are still at the port, chasing down leads on the missing shipment, and I’ve been waiting to hear what the hell happened. But when I pull my phone out and see the name flashing across the screen, everything else fades into the background.
Konstantin.
I stand, the chair scraping against the wood floor, and walk outside to the lot, needing space, needing quiet. I answer before the second ring.
“Konstantin.”
“Chux,” he greets, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it. A weight. One I don’t like.
“You ready to tell me what the hell is really going on?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
There’s a beat of silence before he exhales. “We need to meet.”
I grit my teeth, glancing around the lot, the familiar rumble of motorcycles and idle conversation filling the background. “Where?”
“I’ll send you a location. But listen to me carefully—this isn’t just about you and me anymore. You need to prepare your club.”
That gets my full attention. My jaw tightens. “For what?”
Another pause. Then, his next words slam into me like a freight train. “I’m calling Dimitri in. For Ally this needs to end. You need to keep her free of my world.”
Ice settles in my veins. Everyone in this world has. Dimitri is a ghost, a legend, the kind of man who doesn’t personal take meetings unless he is ready to roll heads. If Konstantin is pulling that card, then whatever’s coming is worse than I thought. And he really wants the war or wants me to get Ally out of this for real.
I inhale slowly, keeping my voice level. “You sure about that?”
“I wouldn’t be making this call if I wasn’t.” His voice is grim. “Ally’s been a pawn her whole life. And so are you now. It stops.”
I scrub a hand over my face, glancing back at the clubhouse. Inside, Alaina is with Kelly, probably still trying to process everything. And now I have to figure out how to keep all of us alive.
“When’s the meet?” I ask.
“An hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Chux.”
I pause. “Yeah?”
“Get your club in line,” Konstantin warns. “Because once Dimitri is in, there’s no turning back.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone for a long second, my grip tightening around it. Then, without another thought, I turn back toward the clubhouse, my mind already shifting gears.
It’s time to prepare for war.
The Dark Syndicate isn’t the kind of place you go unless you have serious business. It’s quiet, private—an old Russian-owned social club that doesn’t advertise, doesn’t cater to outsiders. If you don’t know someone, you’re not getting in. And right now, I wish I was anywhere but here.
I park my bike out front, the neon glow of the old red sign barely flickering in the early morning light. The Kings who rode in with me stay outside, posted up near their bikes, making sure no one tries anything stupid while I’m inside. Mellow falls in step beside me as we push through the heavy wooden doors, walking into the thick haze of cigar smoke and quiet conversation.
The place is mostly empty, aside from a few men in dark suits near the bar—Russians, no doubt. But my eyes land on the table in the far back, where the real meeting is waiting.
Konstantin sits with an air of quiet authority, his sharp gaze locked on me the second I step forward. Beside him, a man I instantly recognize from old whispers and warnings.
Dimitri Morozov.
He’s got that look about him—calm, unreadable, like he already knows how this ends. I’ve dealt with dangerous men my whole life, but this one? This one’s a whole different breed.
I sit, Mellow settling in at my right like the solid second he is. The weight of the room shifts immediately, everyone aware of the lines being drawn, the stakes on the table.
The Russians file out, except for Dimitri, his top guy—a man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw—and two of Konstantin’s bodyguards who remain posted near the door, watching everything.
The air is thick with expectation.
Konstantin leans forward slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. “Let’s get to it.”
I light a cigar, inhaling deep, letting the smoke curl through my lungs before I exhale slowly, watching the men in front of me through the haze. I know what’s coming before he even says it.
“I want you to consider allowing Dimitri access to the port,” Konstantin says, his voice even, but there’s weight behind it. A request that isn’t really a request.
I flick the ash from my cigar, my gaze drifting to Dimitri, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a damn thing yet. Just watching. Calculating.
Konstantin gives me a look, the kind that says let’s get this over with.
I take another drag, letting the silence stretch. The old man might be in a hurry, but I’m not rushing shit. Because once I say yes, everything changes.
The silence is thick, the air heavy with unspoken threats. I take another slow drag from my cigar, exhaling the smoke lazily before I finally speak.
“No.”
Dimitri cocks his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “No?”
I flick the ash into the tray in front of me. “You heard me.”
The tension shifts instantly. Mellow stiffens at my right, his fingers twitching slightly toward the blade he always keeps tucked at his hip. Konstantin’s bodyguards don’t move, but their eyes darken.
Dimitri doesn’t like being told no.
I knew this before walking into this. Always know your opponent.
His lips press together in something that looks like amusement, but I see the flicker of something far more dangerous behind his eyes. Then, just as calm as you please, he pulls a gun and aims it directly at Konstantin’s head.
Mellow moves instantly, but I hold up a hand, stopping him.
Dimitri’s finger rests on the trigger, his gaze flicking to mine. “I don’t like obstacles, Chux. You sure you want to make this a problem?”
I lean forward, my voice even. “Ally is safe. She’s mine. And as an ol’ lady in the Kings, if you fire that shot, you have war. Not because Konstantin matters to me. He matters to her. I won’t let my woman shed a single tear because you got an issue you can’t fix. You crossed me moving shit in my territory with not so much as a fuckin’ phone call. You do this, you got war. Not just with me, but with every chapter. Every. Single. One.” I let that sink in before adding, “Do you really want to die over this?”
Dimitri stares at me for a long beat, then?—
He laughs.
A slow, sinister chuckle that turns into a full-bodied laugh, shaking his shoulders. He tilts his head, his smirk widening. “War?” He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You think you can threaten me, boy?”
But then?—
A shot rings out.
Dimitri jerks violently, a look of shock crossing his face before he slumps forward onto the table. Blood pools instantly, seeping into the wood.
I don’t even flinch.
His own bodyguard, the man with the scar from temple to jaw, lowers his gun. The silence that follows is deafening. Konstantin, covered in splattered blood, looks absolutely petrified like he needs to change his pants. His mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. I sit back, studying the body for a moment before shifting my gaze to the man who just took out one of the most feared Russians in the country.
I give him a nod.
Then, as casually as possible, I reach over Dimitri’s still-twitching corpse and extend my hand. “I look forward to a future together.”
The man—now my new contact—reaches across the blood-stained table and shakes my hand.
I smirk, pulling back and lacing my fingers together. “I want three percent of every crate. Outside of that, you can move anything necessary through us in the state of Alabama.”
He considers this for only a second before nodding. “Done.”
I reach into my cut, pull out a thick envelope, and slide it across the table toward him. “A hundred thousand in cash. A gift.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“For returning the missing gun cargo container,” I clarify. “West Virginia Kings were expecting that delivery, and I don’t like loose ends.”
He takes the envelope, weighing it in his hands before tucking it into his coat.
I stand, tapping the cigar against the edge of the tray. “Pleasure doing business with you. I’m sure you’ll be in touch.”
Konstantin is still frozen, his expression unreadable as he stares at Dimitri’s lifeless body.
I glance down at the blood-soaked old man and smirk. “You good, old man?”
His gaze snaps to mine, still wide with shock.
I chuckle, adjusting my cut, grabbing my cigar again. “Next time, maybe don’t bring a man to a table when you don’t know where the real power sits.”
Then I turn on my heel and walk out, Mellow right behind me.
The Kings just won a war before a single battle started.
I don’t go far. After stepping outside the Dark Syndicate, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial.
The ringing barely lasts a second before Konstantin answers. His voice is rough, shaken in a way I’ve never heard before.
“You really do not waste time, do you?” he mutters.
I take a slow drag from my cigar, exhaling into the night air. “No, I don’t.” I let the silence stretch just long enough for the weight of what just happened to settle in. “We need to get something straight.”
Konstantin exhales sharply, probably dragging a hand down his blood-splattered face. “I suppose I have no choice but to listen.”
“Damn right, you don’t.” I take another hit of my cigar, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension lingering from that meeting. “If you ever keep a single secret from me, from my club, or from my woman again, I’ll personally put the bullet between your eyes.”
There’s silence on the other end. I don’t fill it.
Finally, Konstantin chuckles. It’s humorless, empty. “I underestimated you, Chux.”
“Yeah,” I say, flicking the ash from the end of my cigar onto the pavement. “You did.”
“You just made a deal with men far more ruthless than you realize,” he warns, his voice quieter now, more measured.
I smirk, glancing back at the Dark Syndicate, where the blood of a once-powerful man is still soaking into the floorboards. “No, you’re wrong once again. They just made a deal with me. ”
Another beat of silence.
Then, “I knew you were dangerous. But you, Chux…” Konstantin exhales slowly. “You’re something else entirely.”
“I’m the man keeping your granddaughter safe,” I remind him. “And I’ll do it with or without your help. You understand me?”
His voice is steady when he says, “I understand.”
I nod, satisfied. “Good.”
I hang up without another word, tucking my phone back into my pocket as I turn toward my bike.
This game isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
But now, every single piece is on my board.