Chapter 1

ONE

Dimitri - Age 12

My brother stood beside me with an iron grip on my shoulder, so hard that it felt as if he was pressing me straight into the concrete floor. Maxim was seven years older than me, nineteen to my twelve years. Right now, he was all that was keeping me from being incredibly stupid.

"Be smart. Be still," Maxim whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

As ‘children,' my father prescribed to the ‘be seen and not heard' parenting camp. He wanted us to be trained in my aspects of his business — which was running a Bratva. Maxim had been involved for years, and now it was my turn to learn what it involved. Maxim had fought to give me more time with my tutors, but he'd lost. I could tell that this meant he'd received several beatings for trying to go against my father. This was the second level of our punishment, and I was to learn today the depths my father had sunk to. I was by no means innocent. I had already seen far more than was suitable for a twelve-year-old, but my childhood had been tarnished long ago.

My life consisted of the education deemed suitable for a Bratva prince and being paraded to events with other cutthroat people in our world. Even at my age, I knew how to watch my back. My father wasn't liked, and our situation could take a violent turn at any moment.

Lined up in front of us were an opposing family, another Bratva. I could use a past tense at this point. My father paced behind them, the father, mother, daughter, and son I had played with just this past weekend. Bogdan 's lip was cut. He stared hard at the ground, trying not to cry, but the mother was already sobbing. She knew what was going to happen. Bogdan had already attempted to gain my sympathy, but that had been a useless endeavor. There was nothing I could do to help him. She knew what was going to happen.

"Dimitri, this is what happens to the weak," my father slurred drunkenly. It wasn't even noon, I thought with disgust. He waved his pistol around carelessly, stumbling as he walked. The room reeked of alcohol and fear. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a desperate plea for this nightmare to end.

"Look at them," my father snarled, stopping before Bogdan. "They couldn't protect what was theirs, and now they pay the price."

Maxim's grip tightened on my shoulder, reminding me to stay quiet. I bit my lip hard enough to pierce the skin, forcing myself to remain calm. I had to be strong. For Maxim, for myself.

My father lifted his pistol and aimed it at Bogdan's head. My friend flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as tears streamed down his face. "Please," Bogdan's mother begged, her voice cracking. "Please, spare my children."

My father's laugh was a harsh bark. "Spare them? Don't be stupid."

The room felt like it was closing in on me. The walls, the floor, and the very air seemed to press against me, suffocating me with the weight of impending violence. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. There were punishments for looking away, and I'd learned my lesson; sometimes, Maxim had paid the cost. My father wanted me to understand what weakness meant in our world. That's what he said, but all I saw was that my father was the weak one.

Without warning, my father pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening, echoing off the walls and rattling in my skull. Bogdan fell to the ground, lifeless. His mother screamed a raw, primal sound that made my stomach churn.

Maxim's voice was firm but low, directed at me. "Remember this, Dimitri. This is the reality of our life. Don't look away. "

I nodded, my eyes never leaving Bogdan's body. I felt something inside me harden, a part of my childhood dying with him. Something indefinable inside me seemed to break. If this was our world, I wanted no part of it.

My father moved on to the mother, raising his pistol again. "This is the fate of those who might stand against us," he said, looking at me. "Do you understand, Dimitri? The Volkovs are not merciful."

I nodded again, though I could barely think past the horror of what was happening. He was killing a whole family. Why? "Yes, Pakhan," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled a cruel, twisted smile. It was the only smile I'd ever seen on his face. "Good. Learn this lesson well, my son. You and your brother will take my place one day, and you must be ready."

As the next shot rang out, I felt Maxim's grip on my shoulder loosen slightly. He knew, as I did, that we had no choice but to obey. To survive in our world, we had to become like our father. Cold, ruthless, and unyielding.

I made a silent vow at that moment: I would never let anyone control my fate. One day, I would be free. But for now, I stood still, my heart as cold as the concrete beneath my feet, and watched the lesson unfold.