1. Vladimir
Vladimir
Present Day
“Istill can’t believe you got hit with a knife,” Dimitri snorts, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating grin of his. “Like, who even uses knives anymore? What is this, medieval times? Has the woman never heard of guns?”
I ignore him, focusing on Viktor—our guest of honor, tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. His breathing is shallow, his body trembling despite the layers of clothing that do little to shield him from the cold.
The metallic scent of blood and rust hangs heavy in the damp Chicago air, mingling with his fear. It’s written all over his face, how his eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape that doesn’t exist.
Viktor hasn't cracked yet. But he will. They always do.
“Seriously, though,” Dimitri continues, elbowing Konstantin like this is a game. “What about you, big guy? Still bitter because she knocked you flat on your ass with a tranquilizer dart? Or are you just moody because she outsmarted you?”
Konstantin freezes mid-step, his broad shoulders going rigid like a predator ready to strike. “I wasn’t outsmarted,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “She got lucky.”
“Lucky, huh?” Dimitri raises a brow, clearly enjoying himself. “I don’t know, man. Not every day you see someone your size face-plant like a drunk elephant. I mean, did she even break a sweat?”
Konstantin turns his glare on him, the kind of look that makes most men cower. But not Dimitri. He lives for this shit.
“Did you forget she got you too, mu'dak?” Konstantin snarls. “Or do I need to remind you with my fists?”
“Oh no, I’m terrified,” Dimitri says, mock shivering as he sips from his flask. “Big, bad Konstantin, taken out by a tiny dart. How will the legend survive?”
“Dimitri,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. My voice cuts through their bickering like a blade, sharp and precise. “Focus.”
“I am focused,” Dimitri says, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, for a guy who prides himself on being unshakable, he sure gets rattled when a woman hands him his ass.”
Konstantin takes a threatening step toward him. Fists clenched like he’s seconds from shutting Dimitri up permanently. “You want to test me, mu'dak? Because I’ll gladly remind you why you stick to running your mouth instead of throwing punches.”
“Relax, big guy,” Dimitri shoots back, grinning like the devil himself. “We’re all friends here.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly to keep my composure. They’re always like this—two oversized children with too much testosterone and not enough impulse control. Most of the time, I let it slide. But tonight? Tonight it’s grating on my last nerve.
“Enough,” I bark, my voice echoing off the warehouse walls. The air is so tense you could cut it with a knife. “We’re wasting time.”
Konstantin backs off, though he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like piz`da. Dimitri, of course, just smirks like the instigator he is, leaning against the table as if he hadn’t been seconds away from getting flattened.
Finally, I turn my attention back to Viktor. He’s sweating now, beads of it running down his face and dripping onto the dirty floor. His eyes dart between the three of us, terror practically radiating off him in waves. But he hasn’t said anything useful yet.
“Let’s try this again,” I say, my voice calm but ice-cold. “Who told you about our shipment?”
“I... I don’t know,” Viktor stammers, licking his dry lips. His words are shaky, his desperation palpable. “I swear, I don’t know who they were. I never saw them face to face—just a message… encrypted! That’s all I got.”
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “So a lowlife thug discovers one of my and the Don’s imported weapon shipments, intercepts it, and all you have is a mysterious message?”
Viktor nods, his hands trembling in his lap. “Yes. I swear on my life. I don’t know who it was.”
I exhale slowly, almost disappointed. “I believe you.”
Relief flashes across Viktor’s face, his shoulders slumping as he exhales shakily.
Then I look past him to Dimitri and Konstantin. “Skin him. Hang his body where people can see it.”
Viktor jerks upright, eyes bulging. “W-wait! No, no, no! Please!”
Konstantin steps forward without a word, cracking his knuckles, while Dimitri casually pulls out a pair of gloves, already smiling.
Viktor screams. “Wait—wait! I have some information you might want unrelated to the weapons!”
I raise a brow, motioning for them to pause.
Viktor pants, frantic. “I heard things, okay? About her. The assassin you’ve been looking for.”
I freeze.
“All I’ve heard are rumors—but people are saying a group of them are going after guys like Anton. The ones who smuggle women and kids into slavery and the prostitution rings. They call her Nephthys.”
The Goddess of Death?
I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “Is that all?”
Viktor hesitates, his eyes darting to Dimitri, then Konstantin, as if searching for mercy where there is none.
“There’s... there’s a shipment,” he blurts out, his voice trembling.
“A shipment of women coming in through the docks in Philly. High-value. And one of the city council members in New York City is involved. They’re helping cover it up—ensuring it all stays quiet so they can transport them between states. ”
Now, that gets my attention.
Rumors are useless to me. I need facts, names, locations—something actionable. But this? This is a thread I can’t afford to ignore.
“Which council member?” I demand.
“I-I don’t know their name,” Viktor stammers, practically tripping over his words. “But they’re high up. Untouchable. They’ve been helping keep everything quiet, making sure the cops don’t look too closely.”
Dimitri lets out a low whistle. “Gotta love politicians. Always with their hands in the dirtiest shit.”
Konstantin, however, isn’t amused. He looms over Viktor, his presence suffocating. “You better not be lying,” he says, his voice low and lethal. “Because if you are, I’ll make what happens next a lot worse for you.”
“I’m not lying!” Viktor insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. “I swear! That’s all I know! Please don’t let her kill me because I told you.”
Konstantin stares him down for what feels like an eternity before stepping back. His expression is unreadable, but the tension in his frame speaks volumes. Dimitri, of course, can’t resist one last jab.
“The fact that he’s more scared of this Nephthys person than you right now says a lot. But it looks like he might be useful after all,” he says, flashing Viktor a grin. “Though I gotta say, it’s kind of disappointing. I was hoping for more theatrics.”
“Not everyone performs for an audience like you do,” Konstantin mutters darkly.
Dimitri smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings, big guy? Maybe you need another nap?”
Before Konstantin can take his bait, I hold up a hand, silencing both of them. “Enough,” I say sharply, my patience hanging by a thread.
They fall quiet, though their tension crackles like a live wire. I return to Viktor, who slumps in the chair, his face pale and his shirt damp with sweat.
“You’ve been helpful,” I say, though my tone makes it clear I’m not thanking him. “But if I find out you’ve lied to me, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Viktor nods frantically, his head bobbing like a broken doll. “I swear, I told you everything I know.”
I straighten, motioning to Konstantin. “Finish this,” I say, my voice cold. “We’re done here.”
As Konstantin moves to handle the cleanup, Dimitri leans closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You think he’s telling the truth about the council member?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my thoughts drifting. “But I don’t like this happening in my territory without my knowledge. Start digging into the police on our payroll. I want a list of every city council member who could be involved. No loose ends.”
Her image flashes again as we leave the warehouse—dark eyes, sharp movements, and an unshakable feeling.