Chapter 6: Artem

Onyx Den: a discreet member-only club attended by a few like-minded individuals, high-rollers in society looking to secure deals and have a good time away from the eyes of the public.

The room was dimly lit, and soft classical music came from a live band in a corner. Their lead singer, a pretty woman with slightly tanned skin and way too much red lipstick, had a marvelous voice that caught almost everyone's attention, especially Kostya's.

He was seated by my side at a table, relaxed on a plush sofa, his light blue eyes fixed on the performer whose gloved fingers swayed in the air as she moved her body slowly to the rhythm of the music. Engrossed, Kostya's admiration for the woman's voice was glaring in his gaze. With the way he was looking at her, I wouldn't be surprised if he fucked her tonight.

My younger brother had always been a charming, fine man who loved the company of women and vice versa. He was handsome and tall and had a masculine physique that blended perfectly with his witty and humorous nature. It was no wonder women easily fell for his charms. Like a moth to a flame, most of them were drawn to him.

He stroked his jaw, casting a flirty grin at the singer, who was already stealing subtle glances at him. While performing, she would look at him and smile, then look away again.

Knowing my brother, he was definitely going to go after her before the night ended. She would fall and follow him home. That was a fact. Kostya always enjoyed women, but he never really allowed himself to bond deeply with them.

"He's gonna fuck her—especially if she keeps looking at him like that," Yuri leaned over and whispered into my ear. He was with us at the table.

"I heard that," Kostya said without taking his eyes off the singer.

Yuri adjusted his tie and laughed lightly while I gave a faint grin. I admired Kostya for his ability to balance his dual personality. As charming and funny as my brother was, he was also just as deadly, cruel, and ruthless when need be. He was the type of man who would send his enemies to hell with a fucking smile on his face. Everyone in the criminal underworld knew not to mistake his charms for weakness. He'd set the record straight when he killed a man in cold blood at a gathering like this years ago. Why?

Kostya had made a funny joke, but the man, being all too serious, called him a clown, saying this wasn't what the Tarasov Bratva boss was known for. My brother, still smiling, said he would show him how a Tarasov Bratva boss handled situations like that. The man had barely opened his mouth to speak when Kostya picked up a fork from the table and stabbed him right under his chin. The man's eyes widened with a gasp and a slightly dropped jaw that revealed the tines of the fork in his mouth.

Kostya's action that evening had sent a message that he wasn't to be messed with, regardless of how humorous he could be at times.

Meanwhile, a round of applause filled the room as the woman finished her performance and headed to her seat.

Kostya watched her take her place at a table, and when their eyes met, he winked at her.

" Pakhan ," Yuri called me quietly.

I recognized that tone, and I knew whatever he had to tell me was most likely going to upset me. I faced him. "What is it?"

He nodded toward the entrance, and I traced his gaze to the man walking into the room, surrounded by his armed men. His white hair shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers hung from the ceiling, while his tailored black suit and polished shoes were an impeccable match, exuding confidence, wealth, and power.

It was him, my nemesis, Niall Donovan, leader of the Irish mob.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Kostya asked, frowning at the newcomer.

Niall was shaking hands with some of our business partners, and I couldn't stop looking in his direction. In a fleeting moment, our eyes met, and we locked gazes.

I saw the sudden change in his mood, and that prompted a smirk on my face. He wasn't expecting to meet me here, and neither was I. Donovan was upset by my presence; his brows were furrowed and fists clenched. Seething silently, he leaned closer to his right-hand man, Jacob, and whispered something into his ears. The man looked in our direction and placed a phone call.

Donovan dragged on his cigar and approached me, his shoes clicking against the fine floor. "Well, well, well." He halted in front of our table. "Would you look at that?" He released a puff of smoke. "It's the Tarasov Bratva and their boss."

"Good evening to you, Donovan," I said, my sarcasm not subtle at all.

His right-hand man ended his call and walked back to his boss, standing by his side.

"What're you doing here, Artem?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I could ask you the same thing," came my reply.

"This is my club," he said, "and you're not welcome."

I scoffed and faced Yuri. "Did you know that Niall Donovan is the owner of the Onyx Den?"

"No. He's too weak and broke to own it," Yuri said, his eyes fixed on the fuming man before us.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you," Jacob threatened Yuri.

"That's the difference between you and me—you're a scared little pussy; I'm not," Yuri replied.

The tension was rising, and now, his men and mine had all taken their positions around their respective leaders, hands reaching for weapons. The moment Donovan walked in, I knew this encounter would end in a bloodbath, and I was ready.

One by one, the people in the room began exiting, knowing exactly what was about to happen in a matter of minutes tops.

"Did you just call me a pussy?" Jacob snarled, pulling a gun on Yuri.

That instant, my men responded by pointing theirs at him, and Donovan's men did the same at us. Now, everyone had their weapons drawn, and I was still seated amidst the storm. Even Kostya was on his feet, his finger nearing the trigger of his pistol.

"No, I didn't," Yuri said to Jacob.

He scoffed, thinking Yuri had yielded because he was at gunpoint. "I thought as much."

"What I called you was a scared…little… pussy ." The slight pause came as Yuri got on his feet upon each word. "That's what you are. I mean, look at you, pulling a gun at a defenseless man. That's the height of cowardice."

Jacob's pride was pricked; he shifted his gaze across his men, and I knew that deep down, he wouldn't want to look weak in front of them. That was the idea, and the idiot was playing Yuri's game.

"Show this bastard what you're made of," Donovan said to him.

In the split second that Jacob broke eye contact to tuck his gun away, Yuri grabbed his head and dented it into the wooden table, which broke under the impact.

"Kill them all!" Donovan ordered.

In a heartbeat, my men shielded me like a fence, their bulletproof vests taking the shots fired as both parties clashed in a brutal gunfight.

We took cover behind flipped-over tables that served as makeshift barricades from the pelting bullets that shot down anything and anyone in their paths. Sadly, the beautiful singer was a victim, amongst other collateral damage. If they'd left when the others did, they'd still be alive.

I withdrew my gun and stepped out into the open, shooting down my enemies with precise shots. Kostya did the same, and Yuri joined in by my side. The three of us together had a couple of Donovan's men taking to their heels.

Soon, I ran out of bullets; my gun clicked empty, and the slide locked back. This was an open window, and an enemy seized the opportunity. He rushed at me, spearing dangerously in my direction, but I sidestepped, avoiding the attack by mere inches. With a swift movement, I grabbed his head, my fingers interlocking behind his skull like a vice. In a trice, I spun him around, our bodies rotating together until his back slammed against mine. With that, I had his head trapped the way I wanted it. His arms flailed in the air as he struggled to gain control of his body, but his efforts were futile. He choked at the weight of my arm pressing his throat, and his hands were reflexively slapping against my arms.

With one swift motion, I jerked his head downward, and his neck snapped, crackling like a twig. My attacker's body went limp after his jawbone crushed against my shoulder. His arms dropped weightlessly as I let go of his dead body, and it thudded at my feet.

I caught Donovan's eyes as he snuck a peak from behind his makeshift barricades; he was frowning, and I was smirking.

Jacob had gunned down one of my men, but there were more of us than them, and we weren't backing down. Donovan's men surrounded him, and Jacob ordered them to retreat. They'd lost a lot of men and were still losing more because my gang wouldn't stop shooting, especially now that one of us had been killed.

They managed to fall back and escape the room, with Donovan bending over like a scared little pussy. He made it out alive…barely. But if he pulled a stunt like this again next time, it would be his funeral.

The shooting stopped, and we all lowered our weapons but were still on guard against any unforeseen attacks.

I looked around, and the once serene atmosphere was now a chaotic scene with corpses littered here and there.

My men gathered around the fallen, paying their respects to a father, a son, a husband, and a brother who had been killed in action.

Donovan had begun this war, but was he ready for what would hit him?