Chapter 1 - Arseny

This day is not turning out how I want it to, which makes me seriously unhappy. I pull into the parking lot at Afantasy and get out of my car. I have a present waiting for me, but it does nothing but sour my mood further.

Several hits on my brothers' lives, four children born, rival thugs trying to scam my baby brother's casino, all these things, and even though we stopped the Pachecos, we still lost a great deal of money. They shot up the casino, chasing away regular clients and costing us thousands in damages and compensation pay for the staff.

That's not including the money they tried to extort out of us. I hate them. I hate when people think they can take on my family and live to tell the tale. I always knew Kervyn to be a hard-hearted, stoic man, but then he had a child and has another on the way, and now he has become far too reasonable.

There isn't time to be reasonable, dammit. We need to show our force. We need to play our hand and show that we are not to be fucked with. Kervyn at least gave me the two Pachecos we caught in our last raid. Now, I get to play the way I want to. It's my job to send a message to the Pacheco family to ensure that they learn to back off now.

We're done taking their bullshit.

I walk into the club and toward the stairs, except instead of going upstairs to Kervyn's office, I go downstairs to my dungeon. That's precisely what it is: a dungeon where I can torture and kill people in Kervyn's name as and when needed.

Today, the Pachecos are lucky. They will simply serve as a warning to others. The next time they try something, they'll find my blade slitting their throats rather than carving into their skin.

I was good at art and design in school. It had interested me a lot, and had I not been looped into the family business, I probably would have become an artist, much like Asher is now.

Although sculpting and carving are my specialties, I have found other creative outlets to meet my needs.

I open the door and close it.

"Let us go, you freak," Armello Pacheco shouts at me from the table he's bound to. He's stripped to his underwear and shackled down. His cousin, Filipe Pacheco, is bound to another table.

"You can shout all you want," I say. "The room is completely soundproof. I could shoot you with a sawed-off shotgun, and no one would hear a thing."

"What ransom do you want? I'll get my brother on the line, and he'll pay whatever you think you're owed," Armello says.

I pick up my knife. It's a special kind of chef's carving knife. I've sharpened it so well that it will slice through anything.

I twirl it carelessly through my fingers without cutting myself before I capture it in my hand and point it at Armello's chest. "What shall I write? Loser? Traitor? Snitch?"

"I'm no snitch!" Armello growls.

I start to slice into his skin, and he cries out. I carve a beautiful half-moon on his chest before I flick my wrist and cut across his cheek. "Perhaps a rose on your face."

With my free hand, I grab his face and hold it still as I start to carve the pretty little flower into his forehead. I ignore the blood leaking out of the cuts, both on his face and chest. I know to cut deep enough to make sure it scars.

I carve the stem and flick little thorns off that, nearly nicking his eye. "Oops."

I let him go, and he tried to blink the blood away from his eyes.

"Felipe. It's your turn, you little asshole. What would you like today?" I turn to Felipe and walk toward him. He's also shackled to a bed and shakes his head.

"Please. No," he begs. "My looks mean the world to me."

"Should have thought about that before you fucked with the Milov family and got caught," I say with a frown.

I grip his face and lift the knife. "I know exactly what I'm going to carve your face into."

I work slowly, ignoring his wriggling and shouts of pain. I etch the skull on his face and know it's going to be there for the rest of his life.

"I don't know. I think you look more handsome," I say as I step away. My hands are covered in blood. "Right, you would do well tell your brothers and cousins that if they continue to start with the Milov family, next time I'll kill you and carve your body up for dinner."

I go to the sink in the room and rinse my hands off. I press a buzzer, and two guards come in. "Keep them stripped to their underwear and leave them in the desert on the outskirts of town. You can let their cousins know to pick them up there."

"Yes, boss," Lawrence says. "Where do you want me to meet you after?"

"I'm fine for the rest of the day. You can just take the day off," I say, waving him off. I put my suit jacket back on again and walk out of the room.

I ascend the stairs and leave the club without a backward glance. I go, getting into my car without a care in the world. I need to unwind. These latest bouts of attacks have got me on edge.

Only one thing will alleviate this. My hobby. The thing I do for fun.

I drive through town until I come across a quiet street of small family-owned businesses. I park my car and get out, walking to the closest one, which is a butchery. I go inside and greet the woman standing behind the counter.

"Hey, Debbie. Hope you're well?"

"As well as can be Arseny. We just got new stock in the back that needs sorting," she says as she carefully wraps up the meat she's working with and puts it in the display fridge.

I take my jacket off, walk around the counter, through the staff-only door, and hang it on the rack near the door. I then take down an apron and put it on. I disinfect my hands at the basin and put a hair net on my hair—house rules.

Roger, the owner, lets me come work here for free whenever I want, provided I follow the rules.

I go to the lockers, take out my butcher knives, and take them to my workstation. I set everything up, then fetch the first pig from the freezer and bring it to my station. Light music plays in the back, and a popular radio station plays classical music. I begin to carve up the different pieces of the pig to seal up and sell.

I complete various cuts, including leg of pork, pork belly, pork trotters, and Kassler steaks. I cut everything, and Debbie comes to fetch it and wrap it up for the display cases.

The butcher is busy enough that I can visit often to cut up various animals. At least I know in the wild, I'd be fine. I know how to skin animals better than any of my brothers. I was the only one interested in it when Uncle Jerzy would take us camping. My brothers like to shoot, but they don't like getting their hands dirty.

It's always been me. I've always been the enforcer of the family. I thought once, maybe just once, that Luka might become an enforcer, but he's too soft for the job. He is a killer, no doubt. We have all killed more than one person in our lives. But I'm the clean-up crew. I deliver the messages. I pose the bodies.

"Oh my God. Roger, are you okay?" Debbie says from the front. I hear coughing.

I walk through the staff door and see Roger, bloody and beaten, sitting at one of the tables in the front section.

"Roger," I say quietly. "Who did this?"

"I didn't see the people"s faces, but there was more than one." Debbie brings him a cloth to put on his bleeding nose. "They want the butchery. They want me to sell it to them or else. They said I was a dirty bastard for letting a Milov work here." His eyes meet mine. "I hadn't told them that. They just knew."

I wipe my hands on a nearby rag and remove the apron, discarding it on the counter. "What did they say they wanted, exactly?"

"They said they're going to take over our entire shitty little neighborhood, one at a time, and force the Milovs out of Las Vegas." Roger checks if his nose is still bleeding. It is.

"Well, now, that isn't going to happen. I will speak to Kervyn about arranging some protection. There'll be a fee. I can't waive that. But you'll be safer," I explain.

Roger nods. "It will probably help. But I've heard they've hit other butchers and some grocery stores. All the small businesses that families run."

I tense up. "I should go see Kervyn now." I return to the back, taking my apron off as I walk. I pack up my knives, rip off the hair net to dispose of it, and hang the apron up. I wash my hands, slide back into my suit jacket, and walk out. "You should have that checked out."

"I will," Roger wheezes. "Thanks, Arseny."

I leave the shop, casting a weary eye around in case someone tries to jump me. Most people would think I'm paranoid, but I know how this game works.

I make it to my car in one piece and check the back before I slide in. I start the car and drive back to Afantasy. As I'm walking back in, Penny and Asher are walking out, and they stop me to say hello.

"How are you, Arseny?" Asher asks.

"Fine. Fine," I say a little impatiently. "Just need to sort some business out."

Asher motions behind her. "Kervyn is upstairs in his office. Danil's already left."

"That's fine, it's Kervyn I want. I'll see you later at Mama's house." I walk past them without another word. I'm not the lovey-dovey kind. I mean, I can love. I love my nephews and niece. I love my family. But I'm not going to croon over them like a puppy. I take the stairs two at a time, knock, and walk in. "Kervyn?"

"Did you carve a flower and a skull into the Pacheco cousins before you dropped them in the desert?" my older brother asks, looking at me.

"Yes," I say calmly. "It was art."

My brother chuckles deeply. "If that doesn't send a message, I don't think anything will. I thought you had gone for the day?"

"I had, but there's a little problem. I suspect the Pachecos, but I'm not sure. It could be other rivals." I sit opposite him at his desk.

"What's the problem?" Kervyn asks, leaning back in his chair.

"A family is heating the small businesses in the Angel Park area. Apparently, they want to take up all the businesses to build up against us," I explain. "They jumped a friend of mine today to persuade him to sell his butchery to them."

Kervyn looks thoughtful. "We can arrange protection for the area for a fee."

"I told him there'd be a fee," I say quickly.

"We can arrange something, I'm sure. Don't worry, Arseny. I won't let your friends at the markets lose their businesses."

"Hopefully, it isn't too late," I say.

"If it's the Pachecos, I will deliver a blow to them unlike they have ever seen. I'm tired of that family's bullshit." Kervyn rubs a hand over the beard he's growing out again for Penny.

"Well, hopefully, they'll enjoy my message." I grin evilly.

Kervyn shakes his head. "You should have been an artist."

"I know, I am an artist, technically. It's just my choice of canvas that is somewhat questionable." I inspect my nails and the scars on my hands from the times the knives slipped and sliced me open. Learning curves is what my father would have called it.

"With Penny being pregnant, I don't need the stress of more attacks on the family. I trust you to look into this and sort it out before it becomes a larger problem." Kervyn leans forward on his desk. "And don't let your temper get the better of you."

"My temper never gets the better of me," I say.

"You say that because you act calm, but that's on the outside. I know what temper brews under your skin, and I know what fuels your need for revenge." Kervyn looks older than his years.

I stand up. "I'll speak to Danil about it. Maybe he has some intel."

"Good idea," Kervyn says. "Don't kill anyone getting it."