Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

"Keep a little fire burning; however small, however, hidden."

- Cormac McCarthy

Volk

We've got a feisty one with us.

After leaving the bedroom cabin, I splashed cold water on my face and checked my reflection. Then I sat down next to Dimitri, who was grinning like a fucking clown.

"What's so funny?"

He leaned back, casually placing his hands behind his head and propping his feet on the console between us.

"Careful, Volk," Dimitri said with a snort. "Don't mess with the boss's pet. You know how possessive he is."

Normally, I'd ignore his comments, but today I was in no mood for his nonsense and needed someone to bear the brunt of my irritation.

"Mind your fucking business, Dimitri."

"She looks damn good, but her little pussy isn't worth Igor's anger," Dimitri said, stroking his beard and taking another drag from his cigarette. "You were right, though. Filling her mouth is the perfect way to keep her quiet. My dick will come in handy," he added with a wink.

I sprang from my seat, gun aimed straight at his face. He merely continued smoking, his eyes taunting me.

"Lay a fucking finger on her, and I'll give you the slowest, most excruciating death imaginable."

Just as I finished speaking, the cabin door burst open with a loud bang, revealing a pale, breathless Sofiya with tears streaming down her face. Her eyes darted to me before quickly shifting to Dimitri, who was still grinning.

She gasped when she noticed the gun in my hand.

Perfect timing.

"Sofiya, d'you want know what happens to people who don't mind their fucking business?" I asked, tilting my head as I studied her expression.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest. Her tight T-shirt accentuated her curves, and her long hair fell over her face like dark velvet curtains.

I licked my lips and smiled.

Now was the ideal moment to introduce her to my world.

I turned, cocked the gun, and shot Dimitri in the right thigh.

"This is what happens," I said, winking at her as she let out a silent scream, her hands trembling.

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" Dimitri roared, clutching his thigh as blood dripped onto the floor, staining his prized Givenchy suit .

Guess there will be a hole he'll be able to fill with his stinking dick after all.

He limped his way to the toilet before slamming the door behind him.

"Welcome to the Silas, Sofiya," I chuckled, catching her before she could collapse.

She couldn't get a better welcome than that.

?

Moscow's cold feels like stepping into a frozen version of hell.

After the plane fiasco, Dimitri finally fell silent for the rest of the journey, only mumbling and complaining during turbulence. We landed a few hours later, got into the car, and headed straight to Igor, who was patiently waiting for us.

It took about an hour to reach the manor.

The manor, reminiscent of the Addams family's mansion, is an enormous dark brown wooden house standing tall, concealing most of the Silas' sins, crimes, and wealth. Igor built it a few years before he welcomed me into his clan, seeking a place far from the city where he could freely commit his dark deeds—a place he could call home.

Dimitri remained silent as we parked and got out of the car. I noticed one of the men smoking and playing with a cat and sighed.

Sofiya was still passed out, likely from exhaustion.

Naturally, I had to carry her, as Dimitri was, shall I say, less than helpful at the moment .

I opened the passenger door and lifted her onto my right shoulder, her body limp and unresponsive.

As I entered the house, Igor's shouting echoed from his office down the corridor. I hurried upstairs to the room prepared for her—her new bedroom.

The room was small and stark white. A single bed with white covers and a medium pillow was pushed against the wall. A small window let in light, revealing miles of snow-covered forest.

I laid her on the bed and handcuffed her hands and feet.

Stepping back, I admired my work.

Splendid.

She looked disturbingly peaceful. Not an ounce of fear or worry appeared on her face. Her long lashes rested gracefully on her cheeks, where three beauty marks formed a small triangle. Her plump lips were slightly parted, and another small beauty mark on her bottom lip seemed to beg for attention.

I clenched my fists. Here she was, sleeping without a care in the world, while I had to break my back to carry her here. I despised her with every ounce of my being.

The fact that I couldn't even gain anything from this mess Igor put me through made me furious. I ran my hands through my hair and pulled on it.

I needed to tell Igor that my job was done, that I had fulfilled his request.

Then I could finally return to a more important and less frustrating business. I wanted to go back to the States, meet with the Italians, and check on the warehouses. I hadn't seen Francesco in a while, and I was in the mood to annoy him. He was so easy to upset; it was almost therapeutic.

I left the room and headed downstairs to Igor's office. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the empty house. I cracked my neck, knocked on the door, and stepped inside.

Igor was facing the large window next to his bookshelf, smoking his cigar.

Another one of his men was carrying the lifeless body of one of our suppliers. The smell of fresh blood filled the room as I inhaled deeply. I stepped aside to clear the way to the door.

"This bastard has been working for Vlad for a fucking year now, and I didn't see shit," Igor hissed, tapping his cigar. "I want him gone, son. Bring me his head."

I simply nodded.

Vlad, the Ketalonovs' boss, had been fucking with us for a year, stealing some of our most important clients. He even tipped off the cops to close one of our whorehouses for shady business, as if most of our clients weren't regulars. It was as if all he wanted was a war.

Vlad was never smart enough to understand the truth: what you seek often comes your way, but you never know in what form or how the outcome will play out. For him, the outcome won't be what he envisioned.

Igor and Vlad met in prison as teenagers.

Igor was in for drug dealing, Vlad for abduction. They had each other's backs, and once Igor was out, he helped Vlad escape and took him under his wing.

That was until Vlad stabbed him in the back.

Igor never shared the details with us—neither with me nor anyone else. He simply said that betrayal is unforgivable, especially in the Silas. Killing Vlad won't be quick, but it will be extremely satisfying.

"How is she?" Igor's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"She's still passed out. She saw me shoot Dimitri on the plane. I guess she's a bit of a softie. "

"Good. She needs to get used to it," he sighed. "Gunshots are part of this life."

He walked to his desk, sat down, and took off his blazer.

He scanned my face.

"I trust you with her, son. You know Dimitri is a scumbag, and I don't want him sniffing around moya doch' . Take care of her but do it like the man you are. Consider her family," he said, opening a drawer and picking up a black picture frame.

He looked at it for a few seconds before handing it to me.

"Tvoya doch'? Your daughter?" I asked, confused. "I thought you never had children, boss."

Fuck.

No wonder he was so adamant about getting her back alive and in one piece.

Her record mentioned her father died in a car crash but never gave his full name. I thought her father was just some unknown progenitor.

I scratched my beard and looked at the pictures in my hand, letting out a deep breath as I recognized who was in them.

A very young Sofiya was sitting on a porch with an ice cream slowly melting in her hands, grinning widely with a toothless smile. Her hair was in two braids, and her eyes glittered with happiness and bliss.

"She was four in that picture."

He sighed and met my eyes.

"No one knows, son. Helena woke up one day and decided to leave the country, taking Sofiya with her." He undid his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. "I thought it might be for the best. I didn't want her to grow up in this world," he shook his head. "It's too rough for a little girl."

So, he fucked Helena, and she got pregnant ?

I couldn't believe my ears, so I kept quiet and waited for him to finish.

"Now is the perfect time for…"

A loud bang cut him off, followed by high-pitched screams.

She must've woken up.

Igor sighed and checked his gold Rolex while I lit a cigarette, letting the nicotine relax my tense shoulders.

"I have to leave tonight for Colombia to meet with Julius. His father was murdered by one of our suppliers, and now he's the new don," Igor whispered. "I need to settle a new contract with him. I know you want to go back to the city, but you're the only one I trust, son."

"Nyet."

I knew where this was going.

No fucking way.

"It was not a question, Volk."

"Boss, with all due respect, your daughter is a fucking nightmare. I'd rather have my dick cut into pieces and fed to the dogs than spend another minute in her presence," I said angrily, running my hands through my hair. "I'm not a fucking babysitter."

He walked over and patted my shoulder. "Three weeks, Volk. That's all I'm asking." He headed for the door and looked back at me. "You'll be free of her after that, I promise."