12. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
I watch from the balcony as Andrei walks Sienna outside. She says something to him as she picks a flower and offers it to him, and he reluctantly takes it.
My thoughts spin as I try my hardest to give her space.
I'm duty bound to observe, but whenever I'm up close, I'm finding my discipline shortens every time.
It's been two days since I had her grinding against my hand like the little whore she is, and ever since, she's given me the silent treatment at our breakfasts.
Instead of pushing the matter, I've accepted it for what it is because I’m balancing on a fine edge of obsession that I can’t let compromise my focus.
Agata mentioned Sienna was feeling stir-crazy within the walls of her confinement. And I thought it was within my power to ensure that my little pet still gets her daily walk, as per our agreement .
This isn't who I am. I live for the thrill of the hunt and of killing. Now that I'm lacking that outlet, I'm obsessing over my captive and her needs all because of a stupid fucking pinkie promise .
I need a way to purge the erratic energy building inside me. One where I’m not caught up in her.
I make my way down to the back of the manor, where two of my men train.
It's a hot day, the sun blaring down. I watch as they engage in hand-to-hand combat.
Considering I'm relatively new to the ranks, I'm not impressed. Sure, they might have some maneuvers, but they're young, and I can tell they’re used to being within an organized and controlled environment. All of these men The Wolf has given me are disposable pawns. And I know I’m no different.
When they notice me, they stop what they’re doing to acknowledge me. “Sir,” one of them says, and I already don’t like the way he addresses me.
“Which of you would like to challenge me first?” I ask them in Russian as I unbutton my shirt. They look at one another and then step forward at the same time.
Good, at least they both have initiative. Although, the most strategic move would have been to watch the first fight in order to gain an advantage.
“Very good. Then I shall take both of you on at the same time,” I say as I remove my shirt and toss it to the side.
They seem indignant at the fact that I'm willing to take them two on one, but I'm more than eager to demonstrate why I’ve been tasked with this role.
“What have you heard about me?” I ask, curious how far rumors have spread amongst the Russian families.
The one with the shaved head speaks first. “They call you Udav , sir.”
The second says, “You killed my cousin, sir.”
My eyebrows rise. “No personal grudge, then?”
His jaw hardens. “None whatsoever.”
A total lie, and one I appreciate because that will at least make this scrap a little more exciting. I’ll be disappointed if he’s not out for blood.
They’re not willing to say the things to my face that they say behind my back.
Moving from one distinguished bratva family to another doesn't happen too often.
But after The Lion was killed by the Armanis, I had a choice: take over his league of men or be absorbed into one of the other families.
There is no walking away in the bratva. I have no personal ambitions to lead or deal with their internal politics.
The Wolf promised me all the things I was looking for: independence, money, and opportunities to satisfy my bloodlust.
Many assume I have no loyalty to The Wolf, and they’re not wrong, because I’m only loyal to myself and my own objectives. If I can get filthy rich in the process, so be it.
At this point, these men only follow my orders because The Wolf told them to. However, I intend to display why they should fear me more than they do him, and I’m well adept at hitting that point home.
The main difference between them and me is they fear disappointing their boss.
They assume I have ambitions to curry his favor and rise up the ranks.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I have no particular desires other than to do what I’m good at, which is hunting and killing.
And the only reason this particular job piqued my interest is because it involved Luca Armani and Dmitri Volkov, who are rumored to have killed The Lion.
From the corner of my eye, I see Andrei and Sienna step out of the trees. Having an audience makes no difference to me, so let them watch. I raise my hands and encourage the two men to attack first. The one with the personal grudge leaps at the opportunity.
He has a lean build, and is quick on his feet, but he always shuffles his left foot before taking a swing. The tell allows me to step just out of his reach each time, and I’m enjoying patronizing him as the second circles behind my back.
The second lunges for me, and I step into the space of the first, grabbing him by the wrist, then pulling him toward me and flipping him onto his back. The second man has to move out of the way so he's not taken down in the process.
I use that startled moment to punch the second man in his ribs, relishing in the sound of one of them cracking. A feral smile curls my lips as I circle around to stand at his back and then hook my arm around his neck, squeezing tightly to constrict his airflow.
I crush my foot down on the windpipe of the man who’s still on the ground. Rasping for breath, he scratches at my boots as he tries to tear my weight away,
There's a reason I got my nickname, one that is fitting, if not theatrical. I have a preference in the way that I kill. And although I'm proficient with most weapons, I prefer to kill people by choking them with my bare hands. There’s something thrilling about watching the life dim from them. As they become aware that they’re not strong enough to fight me off.
That it’s all over. That they miscalculated and will pay for it with their life.
“ Udav ,” Andrei calls.
Both men wriggle beneath my grip as I crush their windpipes. My gaze slides to the bright blue eyes of Sienna, whose mouth is agape, even though she tries to hide it with her hands. There’s a mix of fear and shock as she witnesses me in all my glory. This is who I am.
The two men struggle for their lives, and I consider whether I should end them or let them live for another day.
By the stern look Andrei is giving me, I should do the latter. Not that he gives me orders. But I understand he's here to assist, which most likely means also communicating my leadership to The Wolf.
It was actually Andrei’s suggestion to put me in charge, despite The Wolf wondering if any of his men would come back alive before the Armanis retaliate. I'm considered a wildcard, after all. But I'm certain that’s part of the reason why he approached me in the first place.
“Nikolai, stop. You’ll kill them,” Sienna says, and my eyebrows rise. I thought she'd be elated to know I'm killing two more men involved in her kidnapping. I certainly don't understand why she would have any particular mercy for these strangers.
“And what do I get in return for listening to you?” I growl, a reminder that she’s not the one who gives orders here. She shouldn't be offering them any mercy; if anything, she should be praising me.
The man beneath my boot rasps out a “please” while the one in my hands turns bright red.
I hate how her voice tugs on something inside me; something that might be my heart.
But this is the first time she’s spoken to me in days, and I lap it up like a starved dog.
I release both men, shaking off the spit the one I had locked in my arms left behind. The two men gasp, the one on the ground trying to drag himself farther away from me. It's pathetic, really. This fight didn’t provide the release I was hoping for .
But I'm certain that has to do with the blonde glaring at me furiously.
I stalk toward her, staring her down like the prey she’s become to me. She holds my gaze, but I think that's mostly because she doesn’t know where else to look. And it’s the defiant fire in her eyes that has me stopping toe-to-toe with her.
“And do I get another pinkie promise? Surely, you know that if you expect something from me, you should have something to offer.”
I lean toward her, placing my finger under her chin and tilting her head up with a cruel smile.
“I fucking hate you so much,” she seethes.
I bet she does. I bet it frustrates her as much as it does me, knowing how much we disrupt one another the moment we’re within the other’s proximity. All I want to do is fuck her breathless again, marking every perfect inch of her in the process.
“You’ll be having dinner with me tonight,” I order.
“Like fuck I will.”
My smile only widens. “Then shall you continue your stroll, and not worry as to what happens to these fine men?”
She glances over my shoulder at where the two men attempt to recover from our bout, and then at Andrei, who remains a stoic statue, watching our exchange.
Of all the things I could request, I never thought it would be a simple dinner. But it gives me great joy at how much it clearly pisses her off. Her heart is too big and merciful for a place like this, and I can’t help but use it against her. It is, after all, what I’m good at.
I cockily lift my pinkie. “Do we have a deal, little doll?”
“You’re the biggest asshole I know, and trust me, I know a lot of them,” she grits out as she raises her pinkie to mine.
“Wear something nice,” I quip.
“Only if you're willing to provide stilettos with it,” she bites back.
I lean down and whisper into her ear, “You lost that privilege the night we met.”
With a hand to my chest, she pushes me away with force. “And I'll remind you that you have no privilege whatsoever to tell me what I can and can’t wear.”
My cock twitches at her scathing tongue, and I’m hit with a flash of amusement, knowing that I'm actually the exact person to tell her what she can and cannot wear.
I wipe the smile from my face, careful that those who may be watching don't see how much I'm enjoying myself. The others know not to go near her, but I don’t want them becoming more interested in her because my obsession is obvious.
I turn and walk away, in a rather upbeat mood, which is strange considering I'm not often in one. And it all has to do with the woman whose gaze I can feel burning into my back—appreciatively, I’m sure.