Chapter 1
SERGEI
Iwas born into a world of violence.
My father believed loyalty was earned in blood and fear, and he ruled with an iron fist. Every lesson I learned was forged in the dark: how to take a life, how to protect your own, and how to never show weakness. Never.
That was my world. That was my existence.
It was a life I didn’t ask for, nor did I want, and I was done with it.
I was done with constantly looking over my shoulder. I was done with the killing and the threats. I was done hurting everyone around me. I wanted more. I wanted it for my mother and my brothers. So, when my father died, I walked away.
I sold the family estate and everything we owned.
I packed up what was left, and I moved us to Little Rock, Arkansas.
It was an odd location for a new beginning, but I had ties there and used them to buy us a new home.
It wasn’t as elaborate as the mansion back in New York, but it gave us the room we needed and stables for my mother to raise her horses.
Once we were settled, I started buying riverfront properties, and little by little, we started to create a life here.
I thought distance from the mafia world would dull the blade.
I thought a different city with different rules and different faces would make things better.
I thought we would be done with men hiding in the shadows with knives and family vengeance running through their blood.
But the truth was, it didn’t matter how far I ran.
The bratva would always be a part of me.
It lived in my bones.
It was in every breath I took.
It was in every instinct and every move I made.
I might’ve left New York, but I hadn’t put it all behind me. It was still there, and I feared it always would be.
But that didn’t mean I was going to give up. I couldn’t. I had my mother and brothers to think of, so I would keep trying. I would keep pushing ahead, and maybe, just maybe, I could make something of this life we’d tried so hard to create.
It was a thought I clung to as I listened to Preacher say, “Another big turnout last night.”
“Another big week,” Creed added. “Saturday night was one of the biggest crowds we’ve had.”
Preacher was the president of Satan’s Fury MC, and Creed was his VP. They’d been working alongside my brothers and me for the past few months, and they were as pleased as I was that things were going well.
Preacher sat across from me, boots stretched out like he owned the place, and Creed was leaning against the wall near the window with his arms folded and that unreadable expression on his face. They were bantering back and forth like I wasn’t even in the room.
Preacher shook his head with a smile as he said, “It was damn good. We could barely close the damn door.”
Creed sounded impressed as he added, “And we had that kind of crowd without any major trouble. Even the cops seem to be leaving us alone, and that’s saying something after everything that went down with Maddox.”
I let out a low breath, leaning back in my chair. “Then, why does it feel like a bomb is about to drop?”
“Ah, hell. Don’t jinx us, Sergei,” Preacher complained.
They continued talking about this and that, and I found myself thinking back to the day Nikolai came to me about bringing Preacher and his boys into the family fold. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea.
We had our own people. Bog, Conrad, Maki, and Jenson were just a few of the men who’d stepped up and proven their loyalty to me and my brothers.
They put their lives on the line to follow us from New York, and they’d had our backs at every turn.
But we’d hit a wall. We were busting our asses to get the Black Crown up and running, and things weren’t going well.
And that was putting it lightly.
There was a bit of bad blood surrounding the purchase of the property.
We wanted riverfront property, which meant crossing some lines and giving some a steady push to walk away from their homes and businesses.
A few of the unavoidable casualties were looking for a taste of revenge and were doing what they could to slow down construction.
Most of it was petty shit like stealing tools and equipment, but then, the random fires started, and that was a significant concern.
I was already on edge, and my boys and I were ready to show these rednecks what it meant to mess with the Volkovs when Nikolai strolled into my office and announced, “We need to partner with Satan’s Fury. ”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“A partnership with Fury. I’ve already spoken with Preacher, and he’s agreed to a meet.”
We were still relatively new to the area, but I’d already heard the name numerous times. They were a group of roughneck bikers who thought they owned the fucking city, and I was biding my time for a moment when I could prove them wrong. Needless to say, I wasn’t keen on the idea.
In fact, I was totally against it.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“They could help get us out of this hole we’ve found ourselves in.” He actually sounded proud of himself as he told me, “I’ve been watching them. I’ve seen how they run things, and…”
“You’ve been watching them? What the fuck, Nikolai?”
“You’re not hearing me. They have a way about them, Sergei. You have to see it to understand.”
“A way about them? What the hell are you thinking with this?” I had to fight the urge to strangle him as I shouted, "You’re too damn impulsive, Nikolai. You’re always letting your emotions get in the way, and one day, it’s going to cost us."
He gave me one of his looks and shook his head. “You have all these big plans, Sergei, but you don’t have the backing you need to see them through.”
“I have the Volkov name! That’s all I need!”
"If that’s true, then why did someone set that fire at the construction site last week?”
Nikolai kept his voice low and steady.
That was him.
He was full of emotion, but he kept it reigned in.
Nikolai’s the youngest, and he was tall like Viktor and me, with the same dark hair and intense eyes that never missed a thing. He was covered in ink—symbols and words that spoke of the family and the life we’d led, and they only seemed to add to his intensity.
He saw the world in colors that we were all blind to.
Mother said it made him an artful soul. I thought it made him hard to deal with.
His nature didn’t make him vulnerable or soft.
The kid had a spine of steel, so I wasn’t surprised when he kept pushing, “And why are our tools and equipment constantly being stolen?”
“That sort of thing just happens.”
“It shouldn’t. Not if the Volkov name has the power you think it does. If it did, then no one would dare to fuck with us or our construction site.”
I sounded like our father when I snarled, “Maybe it’s time I remind them what happens when you cross a Volkov.”
“You would just make matters worse,” Nikolai argued.
“We need these guys, Sergei. Satan’s Fury has built something here.
They’ve made a name for themselves, and people don’t just fear them.
They respect them, and that’s what makes them different.
It’s one of the many reasons the Vault has done as well as it has. ”
“They’re a goddamn biker club.”
“Maybe so, but they have something we don’t.” Nikolai crossed his arms and glared at me with resolve. “They have a reputation that supersedes them. No one crosses them, and no one questions them.”
“Volkovs have the same reputation!”
“No. We don’t,” he argued. “People fear us. No doubt about that, but that’s not how we will bring people into the casino. If anything, it will keep them away.”
Our father raised us in the shadow of the bratva.
Power wasn’t earned. It was taken, and it was kept by holding a knife to the world’s throat.
The men I’d grown up around were wolves.
They were trained to bite before they were even hungry and were nothing like what I imagined bikers to be.
Drunken, unshaven men who start bar fights over pool games.
They weren’t the kind of men I would trust with a multi-million-dollar casino, much less the Volkov name. Not ready to give in, I shook my head and grumbled, “This whole thing is nonsense.”
“People here aren’t going to forget what you did," Nikolai continued, softer now. "They’re always gonna remember you forced them out of their homes and shut down family businesses. You thought it was over when you signed on that dotted line, but it wasn’t for them. It was just the beginning.”
“They’re not like us,” I added. “They don’t understand our world.”
He only smiled. It was the kind of smile that said he knew something I didn’t. And damn if he wasn’t right.
The first time I met Preacher and his boys, I expected swagger and empty promises.
Instead, I got steel-eyed resolve. The kind you can’t begin to fake.
They walked in like they didn’t have anything to prove.
They listened before they spoke, and when they did actually speak, every word meant something.
And when trouble arose, and it did, they handled it without question.
These men had power. There was no doubt about that.
But it was a different kind of power than I was used to.
It was nothing like the bratva. Preacher and his club were both feared and respected.
They would stand up to anyone who stood in their way or threatened their brotherhood, but there were lines they wouldn’t cross.
They remained loyal to their brothers, their president, and their women, no matter what the cost. It wasn’t my way, but for them, it worked. They’d managed to turn things around for us, and they’d done it without slitting throats or wiping out family trees.
The numbers on the spreadsheets proved it.
I was pulled from my thoughts when Preacher cleared his throat and said, “Things are going well, and if the past few weeks are any indication, they will continue to do well.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Creed was always thinking one step ahead, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Has there been anything more from your buddy about someone sniffin’ around?”
The air in the room stilled. I leaned back in my chair and tried to sound unbothered as I answered, “I’m looking into it.”
The memory of the phone call had haunted me since it happened.
I’d been at my condo, working on inventory, when my phone lit up with a number I hadn’t seen in years. I shouldn’t have answered. Every instinct told me to just let the past rot where it belonged and let it ring.
But curiosity got the best of me, and I picked up.
The voice on the other end was Lev, one of my old confidants and now a trusted contact from back in New York.
He was someone who’d once worked as an errand boy for my father and later for me.
He hadn’t followed when we left, but he’d stayed loyal all the same.
I hadn’t even answered when he boasted, “Sergei, old friend.”
His Russian was rough and gravely from too many cigarettes and bad decisions, and it set me on edge. “What do you want, Lev?”
“Always so grumpy, like your father.”
“Do you have something to tell me or are you looking to have your ass kicked?”
“Oh, so grumpy,” he snickered. Before I had a chance to bite back, he announced, “I have news.”
“I’m listening.”
“Word is some local recruits have a growing interest in what you have going on with that casino of yours. They feel they can benefit from your success.”
His words hit harder than they should have. My brothers and I had wiped our hands and walked away from the bratva months ago. We’d even given them proof that our Uncle Vasili was stealing from the family, and it bought us some breathing room.
But breathing room wasn’t freedom, not in that world. The family doesn’t forget, and they certainly don’t forgive. “They’re getting their ten percent. They’re not getting any more.”
“These recruits aren’t from the family.”
“Don’t care who they are. They can fuck off.”
“Be careful, friend.” There was no missing the concern in his voice when he added, “They’re inching closer every day. I’m afraid this quiet life you’ve got right now isn’t going to last.”
“I need names and any connections they might have, and I need it now.”
“It’s not easy to find such information.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You will be hearing from me soon.”
He hadn’t gotten back with me, but he was a clever bastard who’d do anything for the right amount of money. I knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he had what I needed.
I cleared my throat and tried to pull myself back to the office, and when I glanced over at Preacher, I found him watching me like he could read my thoughts. Creed was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for me to tell them more.
“I’m not sure what they want from us, but I feel certain it isn’t good,” I said, my voice colder than I meant it to be.
Because in my gut, I knew if these assholes decided to force their way in, it wouldn’t just be my family on the line. It would be everyone connected to us, and that meant them. And I’d learned enough from the Fury to know that you protect what’s yours, or you lose it.
And I wasn’t losing.