Chapter Three
Kreos
Under the pulsating lights of Club Mayhem, smoke curled and drifted. Leaning back in a black velvet booth, I waved away the hovering hostess with a dismissive flick of my wrist. A bloodcurdling scream erupted from my phone, and I glanced down at the security footage displayed on my screen.
Sago, one of my most trusted enforcers, was using garden shears on the bloody man strapped to the chair. He had eight fingertips remaining.
I stood, adjusting my cufflinks as another muffled cry rang out.
Everything was progressing smoothly.
I stalked toward the basement entrance, the crowd of sweaty bodies on the dance floor parting like the Red Sea before Moses.
The air was thick with anticipation as I headed down the steps. As I flung open the metal door, the man’s raw screams intensified. I took in the bloody scene before me with a sense of satisfaction.
I didn’t kill for pleasure or sport. It was merely a means to maintain power. As one of the youngest Bratva bosses in New York, I lived with a target on my back and my front. I had a zero-tolerance policy for disloyalty, which was precisely why this man would die.
Slowly .
Painfully.
He’d thought he could take from me.
Threaten my kingdom.
But he had been mistaken.
I had been molded from childhood to lead my family empire. My father had raised me to be a monster, and in turn, I transformed men into loyal beasts willing to give their lives up for me. I ruled with an iron fist over a thousand-man Bratva in New York. Anything and everything coming in or out of the East Coast, I controlled.
Some called me ruthless; most called me merciless. In my life, you were either the predator or the prey.
I had decided a long time ago which one I was going to be.
“Give me a name, Miklov”—I dragged a chair in front of him and took a seat—“and I will make your death quick.”
He lifted his head, blood dripping from his nose and his right eye swollen shut. “Please, Pakhan. I would never betray you. This is a mistake,” he pleaded.
I glanced at Sago, who was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. “She was certain?”
He nodded. “Miklov told her your reign was ending, and you didn’t even know it.”
“She’s reliable?”
He nodded again, coming to stand behind Miklov. “Seven years she’s been at this club. Your sister vouched for her.”
My younger sister, Bela, ran Mayhem, which was more than just a gentleman’s club. It was a place where wickedness thrived; the powerful, the wealthy, and the law enforcement elite all flocked here to indulge their darkest desires.
The true purpose of Mayhem was to obtain information. I trained my employees with a specific target in mind, and that was to discover our clients’ secrets. The women who worked for me possessed the ability to make even the most powerful men feel safe enough to let their guards down. They were skilled in both enticing others and uncovering their secrets, be that through flirtation, roleplaying, or, more often than not, psychological profiling.
And once I knew their secrets, I owned them.
I owned this city, this state, and all the people who lived here.
I was their God and their Devil, their salvation and their damnation.
Sago put the cigarette out on Miklov’s neck, a wretched scream echoing around the room. “This was his fifth visit with her. He confessed his love and offered her riches once he pledged loyalty to the new Pakhan.”
Distaste coursed through me. Another fool led astray by his heart. Now he would pay the price for it.
Someone had been feeding sensitive information about my operations to my enemies, a crime I couldn’t allow to go unpunished. I enforced a strict code of conduct within my organization, and any insubordination was met with severe consequences.
Despite my stern rule, those who remained loyal were richly compensated. My inner circle had become a brotherhood, united by loyalty and a strong sense of family. Which made this betrayal even more infuriating. Someone I trusted had been giving away my secrets, and it would be dealt with the only way I knew how.
Extreme brutality.
“Lies!” Miklov roared. “You can’t believe those lying whores, Pakhan.”
“Very well.” I leaned back in the chair and nodded at Sago. “Take his eye.”
Sago grabbed a scalpel from the table and straddled Miklov. “Which one?”
I tilted my head to the side, relishing in the terrified look on Miklov’s face. “Right one. Open it up. I want him to see everything until he confesses his sins.”
Sago spent the next twenty minutes doing what he did best. It wasn’t until he stripped off Miklov’s pants and pulled out the blowtorch that Miklov decided he was ready to tell the truth.
“Bozra the C-Cruel,” he gasped, tears spilling down his face. “He’s coming for you.” His head rolled from side to side as he laughed manically. “You’re all dead. All dead!”
Sago slammed his fist against Miklov’s jaw. The room grew instantly quiet.
Bozra Ivanov.
Bozra the Cruel had been cast out of the Bratva by my father. He had deep ties to crooked oligarchs and Russian government officials and was known for his overkill. Where one might use a fist, he would use a bullet. Where one might use a bullet, he would use a bomb. He’d vowed revenge on my family and then disappeared without a trace. It seemed now he might be ready to act on his promise.
“Take his tongue. Put his head in the pit. Let’s remind the others how we respond to disloyalty.”
“Yes, Pakhan.” Sago grinned, unfazed by my request.
I took the private elevator to the security room on the top floor. Standing before the wall of security monitors was Gavriil, my advisor and closest confidant. From the moment you stepped into Mayhem, you were being recorded.
“I had no idea Senator Murphy was such an animal lover,” I commented. The senator was on his hands and knees, a saddle strapped to his back and a large carrot in his mouth. I had a hunch there was another carrot somewhere else. A voluptuous blonde was behind him with a riding crop, whipping him without mercy.
Gavriil chuckled and pressed a button, muting the room Miklov was in. “I’m reaching out to my connection in the SVR. If the Cruel has come out of hiding, I’ll find out.”
That was Gavriil’s specialty. He had a network of spies in New York, Russia, and every major city. He was more than a spymaster; he was essentially an extension of myself and my power.
“Good.” I checked my watch. “I’m going to check on Bela.”
We headed down the hall to my sister’s office. Bela, only twenty-five, ten years younger than myself, was a key player in my operations. I’d tried my hardest to shield her from the brutality of the Bratva growing up, but she was a Zokrov. Chaos and mayhem were in her blood, just like they were in mine and our brother’s. But I was fiercely protective of her and tried to keep her focused on Mayhem and not on the ongoing wars and carnage.
I found her leaning over her desk, looking at a large map of the docks. Her eyes brightened when she saw me.
“You’re home!” She squeezed me into a hug. “Satan.” She nodded at Gavriil, which only made him laugh. They’d had a love-hate relationship her entire life. Probably because he was just as protective of her as I was, and she couldn’t stand it.
“How was Canada? And our new Italian friends? Is it a done deal?” She leaned against her desk, crossing one ankle over the other.
I grabbed a drink from the bar cart. “We’re moving forward with the expansion. Just a few details to work out, but nothing for you to worry about.” I poured three shots of whiskey and handed one to each of them.
Something red in the trash bin next to the cart caught my attention.
“Bela?” I glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Why is there a bloody ear in your trash can?”
“It’s not real.” She threw back her shot, her cheeks turning pink. “A new bartender tried to touch one of the girls. So, I took care of it.”
“Who?” Gavriil walked over to peer into the trash can. While he was there, he couldn’t stop himself from straightening out the bottles of liquor on the cart. I was sure his compulsion to straighten things had everything to do with his father beating him mercilessly when he’d made a mess as a child. But we never spoke about him.
“Which bartender?” I asked.
“No.” She wiggled her finger in my face. “It’s handled. No meddling in club business unless I ask, remember? ”
Gavriil and I shared a look, one that said he would take care of it. I didn’t doubt my sister’s ability to handle her business. Her innocent appearance hid a ruthless and cunning nature. But the difference between us was she used a fake bloody ear to teach a lesson, while I would have cut his right off.
“OK, Bela. No meddling.”
We spent another ten minutes with my sister before leaving the club. Gavriil and I got into the back of an armored SUV. A guard sat up front with my driver. The only other security was four guards on motorcycles, two in the front of the SUV and two in the rear.
“I spoke with your father.” Gavriil exhaled, and I could tell this was going to put me in a foul mood.
“And what did the great Viktor Zokrov have to say?”
“If you don’t find a wife by the end of the month, he will pick one for you.”
Of course. That seemed to be all my father cared about. Securing our bloodline by ensuring I produced an heir. He’d been hounding me for months. It was no surprise he’d turned to Gavriil to get to me.
I had no ambitions to get married. A wife was the last thing I needed or wanted. But my father was insistent, and I’d learned long ago to pick my battles.
“He said that with Constantine in a coma, now was the time. We shouldn’t be showing any weakness.”
“My brother being in a coma is not a sign of weakness.” I scoffed.
“You know I don’t agree with most of anything your father says. But he’s right about this. Constantine may never wake up. Without him or an heir to succeed you, our enemies may use this time to strike. An heir will secure your name. Your bloodline. Your future.”
Constantine had been in a coma for five months after an assassination attempt. There were a lot of unanswered questions surrounding what had happened. For one, he’d been awake in the hospital after the attack, but the next morning, he was in a coma. Someone had gotten to him when they realized the bullet hadn’t killed him. We were still trying to figure out how—his room had been guarded at the hospital. Now he was under twenty-four-hour protection and care at my estate.
“Your father is coming here in a few weeks to ensure you comply. He mentioned Katia’s name more than once. You know he’s always wanted you to marry her to finally join the Zokrovs and Ivanovs into one big family.”
Anger pulsed through me, but I remained emotionless on the surface. Emotions were a weakness that your enemies could use to control you. Now that I was the Pakhan, I was in charge, and nobody could control me. Not even my father. I would not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Katia. I would do what was necessary to protect my kingdom and legacy, but I would do it my way.
“There’s more.” Gavriil cleared his throat and I turned to face him. “Your mother is coming with him.”
I straightened my back, clenching my fists at my side. My mother was a troubled woman with questionable loyalty. My father loved her though and had shown her mercy for her numerous indiscretions. I was certain she had tried to have him killed, something my father had beaten me ruthlessly for after I’d accused her. I could never prove it. But I knew it deep in my bones.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since I’d gone to Russia seven years ago. She’d convinced my father to marry Bela off to one of his rivals.
It hadn’t ended well for anyone involved.
It was something I could never discern. How could a mother be so indifferent to the well-being of her own children?
“We should think about furthering our alliance with the Italians in Canada if the expansion goes well,” I said, changing the direction of the conversation. “Get me a list of candidates from the Barone family first. I want to know all my options.”
I liked to be one step ahead. Always. I was never without a plan A, B, and C. If I was to take a wife, forge an alliance, that meant more power. More control.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.
*** ***
The room grew quiet as Gavriil and I entered the isolated chamber at my estate. Every man stood as I walked to the front of the table, nodding their head in respect. Each Vor in the room was a loyal member of my inner circle. They’d earned their place through blood, sweat, and relentless devotion.
They were my most trusted captains and oversaw all branches of my business dealings. Some of their families had served under my father, like Roman Lomanovich, whose expertise in extortion was legendary. Others had clawed their way up from nothing, proving themselves to me through sheer brutality and cunning.
Cheslav Zatori was one of the latter. He’d revolutionized our tech operations and was responsible for keeping our money-laundering schemes invisible to prying eyes. He’d proven time and time again to be loyal and I’d never had a reason to question that.
But I didn’t miss the way his hands shook as he thumbed through a manila folder. Or the bead of sweat on his brow he tried to wipe away when I passed him.
He would not have good news for me then.
We spent the first half of the meeting discussing operations, potential threats and territory disputes. There was always money to be made, and a threat around every corner. Leonis, the pit bull who kept our underground casinos, gambling rings, and fighting circuits in check, groaned about some O’Hanlon kid who didn’t want to pay his debts.
“Ten grand? We don’t start wars over pocket change, Leonis. You want to send a message? Fine. Break his legs. Set his car on fire. Cut off his fingers.” I leaned forward, glaring at him. “But I don’t want O’Hanlon at my door declaring war because you couldn’t handle this kid quietly. Got it?”
He visibly swallowed, nodding his head. “Understood, Pakhan.”
“Good.” I relaxed in my chair. “As you all know, I went to Toronto and met with the Italians. They’ve agreed on a tentative alliance. We’re going to supply them with weapons in exchange for distribution rights and a cut of the profits.”
Murmurs and nods of approval came from everyone around the table. This was a lucrative opportunity that would make us a lot of money and expand our presence over the border.
“Aleksandr, I’m sending you to Toronto to set up a business front, a shipping and trucking company. We’ll also need to bribe the CBSA.” I glanced at Gavriil, who nodded. “Gavriil will get you everything you need.
“Now, onto a more serious matter. It’s come to my attention that Boris Ivanov has crawled out from whatever desolate rock he was hiding under.” I rose from my chair and walked around the table as the men leaned in.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you of his—eccentricities.” I paused, recalling how he’d burned down a house full of innocents rather than face my father’s wrath. “He’s a rabid dog. Dangerous and unpredictable, but ultimately just a nuisance.”
I stopped at the head of the table, my gaze sweeping over each of my captains. “Increase your vigilance, but don’t waste too much energy on him. The Cruel is just a piece of the past, a reminder of how my father used to do business. I run this city, and he’ll be dealt with. Efficiently and so ruthlessly that it’ll serve as a reminder to anyone foolish enough to think they can challenge us.”
The room relaxed, any tension dissipating. After a few last-minute discussions, I ended the meeting. Everyone left, except Gavriil and Cheslav. My Doberman, Sasha, ran through the doors and straight for me. She sat at my feet, placing her paw on my knee.
“Hello, printsessa .” I stroked behind her ears and pointed to the ground. “Down.”
Cheslav eyed her warily. “We have a problem.”
“Tell me.”
“The cameras at the safe house were disabled an hour before the explosion. There’s no footage to view.”
Gavriil shook his head. “I figured that was a possibility. I’ve had my people checking the cameras in the area, as well as the expressway and parkway. I’m expecting an update any minute.”
“And the police?” I questioned.
“I took care of them.” Gavriil lined up his tablet next to his phone and burner phone, making sure they were all in a straight line. “They won’t be a problem. All the witness reports are destroyed.”
“There’s more.” Cheslav turned his laptop around and showed us his screen. “Someone attempted to breach my network this morning. They weren’t able to access any files. Whoever it was, was good. But not as good as our team. We were able to track them immediately.” He pressed some keys, and a map pulled up.
“Why am I looking at a map of my estate?” I growled.
“Because whoever hacked into my system was doing it within a hundred yards of here.”
The room fell quiet.
Fuck.
Miklov had been locked up since yesterday, so this wasn’t his doing.
That meant the mole in my organization was a lot closer to home than I’d realized.
“You’re sure they were unable to access our files?” Gavriil asked.
“Yes. Even if they gained access to the files, it would all be useless to them without the passkey. Which only the three of us have. Without the passkey, it’s unreadable data.”
I tapped my fingers against the table. We had to be even more careful now. There was too much at risk, especially if we wanted to expand our gun trade into Canada.
“From this moment on, we operate under the assumption that our walls have ears. Every conversation, every message or call has the potential to be compromised.” My voice was low and controlled.
Cheslav typed something on his laptop, pulling up another layout of my estate. “I’ve already ensured all the signal jammers are functioning. My team is discreetly doing a sweep for any bugs or tracking devices around the premises as we speak.”
“Good.” I stood and straightened my suit jacket. “I want all the security footage from today viewed. Every second of it. Check for outsiders or anyone acting strangely.”
My mansion was impenetrable and had state-of-the-art security. Not to mention the thirty armed guards I had on duty at all times. It was a fortress. No one was getting in here without me knowing about it. The question was, who was inside already that I’d trusted by mistake?
I dismissed him with a nod. The threat to my kingdom would not be tolerated. I would burn down the entire city to flush them out if I needed to. Nobody crossed me without paying the price.
“I’ve just gotten word.” Gavriil stood and grabbed his tablet. “We need to go back to the city.”
“For?” I raised my eyebrow.
“The person responsible for the explosion on Maple Avenue.” He smirked and handed me my coat.
Sasha whined, and I reached down and stroked her head. “Be a good girl while Papa is gone.”
Gavriil raised his eyebrows, not trying to hide his grin. “You know, for a ruthless killer who heads a thousand-man army, you’ve got a pretty big soft spot for that beast.”
“And you may be my best friend, but insult my dog one more time and I’ll cut your tongue out.”
He chuckled and reached down to pet Sasha, who rightfully nipped at his hand. I didn’t miss the “little monster” he muttered under his breath.
Once we were on the road, Gavriil pulled out his tablet and showed me what he’d found. He’d hacked into a home security cam a few blocks from the safe house. On the screen, there was a black Buick parked, two people getting out all dressed in black. He fast-forwarded the footage, and they were seen again running back to the car with a large duffel bag.
“They stopped at a gas station for gas. Looks like blood on the driver’s jacket. Car’s registered in Kings County. The passenger has a record. Larceny, petty theft. Fraud. He’s spent a few months in county jail. He’s part of Whistler’s motorcycle crew.”
“And the driver?”
“Clean as a whistle. No record. Not even a parking ticket. Stepsiblings, apparently.”
“You’ve got them both?” I asked as we drove toward an industrial area.
“Just the driver.”
“Where are you keeping him?”
“Her, actually.” He swiped across his tablet, then handed it to me. A photo appeared on the screen.
Every muscle in my body tensed. I gripped the tablet and stared into eyes as green as emeralds. Eyes I’d thought I’d never see again. Eyes that belonged to a ghost from my past .
“Alora Wolfe. Feisty little thing,” he said, but I barely heard him as time seemed to slow down.
Alora Wolfe.
My little liar.
The one who got away.
I had let her go because she was an innocent and didn’t belong in my world.
I’d seen what this life had done to my mother, a woman kidnapped by my father because he couldn’t control his obsession. She hated him and her children because of it.
And for once in my life, I hadn’t wanted to ruin something as perfect as Alora Wolfe.
Of course, that night she’d called herself by another name.
Ally.
She had called me a god as she worshipped my body.
Now I had her within reach again.
But this time, I wasn’t going to let her go.
I gripped the tablet so hard my knuckles turned white. “If anyone lays a finger on her, I will rip their fucking heart out.”
Gavriil snapped his head in my direction at my tone. “My orders were to pick them up and hold them until you could speak with them. No one will touch her.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on, K?”
“How far are we?” I barked.
“We’re here.”
The car stopped in front of a cement building I recognized. We’d had to pull information out of some members of a cartel here a few weeks ago. One of my soldiers was standing out front and nodded as I approached.
“Kreos, you know her?” Gavriil called after me, but I was already going inside.
Inside, her screams drifted through the cracked basement door. A red haze clouded my vision as I stalked down the steps and picked up the silver hook from the table.
Sergei didn’t hear me coming, probably because he was focused on putting his filthy fucking hands on what didn’t belong to him.
Alora though, she saw me coming. Her eyes widened as I raised the hook and, in one fluid motion, slit his throat. I’d never liked that piece of shit anyway.
His body dropped to the ground, and I stepped over him without another look. Drops of blood had splattered across her cheek, making her look even more beautiful.
“Hello, kotic ,” I murmured.
Her lips parted, her breath warm against my fingers. “K.”
I pulled out my black handkerchief and wiped the blood from her cheek, making her shiver.
“I think it’s time to call in that favor,” she whispered.
I don’t think so.
I think this time, I’m going to keep you.