Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Luka

THE BASEMENT is a cold and damp space filled with the stench of fear, and betrayal. Blood seeps from the wounds of the man strapped to the chair in front of me, his body shaking with pain and terror. I pace back and forth, the anger and violence inside me pulsing like a living thing.

"I trusted you, Sergey," I say, my voice low and menacing. My fingers curl around the grip of the red-hot poker, its searing heat a reflection of the fire within me. The air around it shimmers as if it's alive with the power of my rage.

"Boss… Please!" Sergey's voice is choked with pain and desperation. But I am beyond reason, beyond mercy. Betrayal comes with a price, and he's about to pay it.

"You betrayed me," I say. My words are a death sentence. "And for that, you will suffer before I kill you."

I press the hot iron to his chest, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Sergey screams in agony, but I am deaf to his pleas. All that matters is my vengeance, my need for justice.

The shadows in the room seem to grow darker, closing in around us as if drawn by the violence that fills the space. The armed men around me watch in silence, their faces impassive. They know what I am capable of, what I am willing to do to protect what is mine.

Until one steps forward abruptly and rips the poker from my hand, his eyes filled with concern. "You just fucking got out of jail, bratan!" Erik Volkov is the only one brave enough to stand up to me, and he only has that privilege because I count him as one of my closest friends. "Is this really the way you want to spend your first day of freedom?"

I glare at him, my chest heaving. He doesn't understand the depth of my fury, the need for vengeance that has been driving me for years.

"I'll stop when he's suffered enough," I growl.

But Erik is unflinching. He knows the darkness of my soul, yet he doesn't cower when facing me, even when my hate is boiling over.

I pivot to confront him, still seething as I glare into his face. He's a striking contrast to me; fair where I'm dark, his eyes pale gray, while mine are blue. He's built much like I am, though. Tall, muscled, tattooed…our bodies made to fight. To kill. Like mine, the patterns on his skin are a story of his life. His tell a tale of his loyalty to me and our cause; I remember that now, and it reins in my rage. He has a steadfast courage to champion what is right, even if it pushes me to the brink of wanting to strangle him.

"Go after Aleks," he says, his voice hard. "That's where your real anger should be directed."

I take a step toward him, fists bunched. But he doesn't back down. He's been my stand-in for too long, and he knows how to handle me. In that moment, I realize how lucky I am to have him by my side. It doesn't settle my annoyance, though.

"Don't you dare mention that name under my roof again, mudak." I glare at him. He glares right back, completely uncowed.

"It's not even been twenty-four hours, and you're already at each other's throats," a voice has us swinging our heads to identify the source. The stocky shape of the third member of our triumvirate emerges through the door that leads to the basement. Dimitri Orlov has a frown etched on his face, but I know it isn't because he's angry or upset. It's just how he works.

"Don't you start on me too, Dimitri," I growl; it's a clear warning, but he ignores it.

"I don't know what started this standoff, but listen to Erik, Luka. You know he's only one of us who ever makes sense." Dimitri's presence floods the room as he enters it. Hardly surprising; at 6'5", he's a monster of a man. Calculating blue eyes glitter in a face that might be too pretty if it wasn't for the scars that mar it. One of the hazards of his job as an enforcer.

"He's not making sense now," I mutter. Nearby, I sense Sergey squirming in the bonds holding him to the chair.

"Erik kept the business afloat for four years." Dimitri doesn't need to remind me, but of course, he does anyway. "You don't know how much of a shit show it was when you weren't here—"

"And you think I was sipping wine in jail?" I snap, not letting him finish. "My father's body had barely begun to grow cold in the grave before my uncle started plotting with my men to take over. I couldn't even grieve properly."

"You shouldn't dwell in the past, Luka," Erik says, and I glare at him again.

"What do you know of grief?" I bark.

"Focus on the good," Erik continues as if I hadn't spoken. "You have a roof over your head and a business to call your own. Everything you see here belongs to you now, bought with the profits of your own business. This is your legacy we've been building while you've been away, Luka. Aleks can never have a claim to it."

I stare at him for a moment. "What is this nonsense you're spewing? I have a legacy already, and it was stolen from me. I will not rest till I have reclaimed the entire Ivankov fortune from that thieving pig. The entire Chicago underworld is mine; that is my legacy. I will not settle for the fucking crumbs that are left over," I snarl.

Erik shakes his head. "The last time Aleks came at us, you ended up in jail, bratok."

"You're not my brother!" I snap.

"Really?" he asks. "Because Dimitri and I shed blood for you, for your legacy. Took bullets that left scars that will never fade. And that was when Aleks had only a fraction of the backing of the entire Ivankov militia. Think about what he'll do with all that power now," Erik says.

Dimitri nods in agreement. "But enough of this," he adds. "You can argue about it later." He motions for me to follow him. "Erik and I busted our asses to throw you a welcome back party upstairs. I even brought in a pretty blonde to help you break your four-year celibacy streak. She's waiting now with her pussy ready." He grimaces. "But instead, you're here, fucking around with this trash."

"I'm busy," I snap, then stop short as a loud explosion shatters the air. Sergey's head snaps backward from a sudden force, the back of his skull spattering the wall behind him. He jerks violently and then goes still, crimson liquid slowly dripping onto the floor beneath the chair.

"There. Looks like your schedule just cleared up," Dimitri says, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of what just happened.

I want to argue, to push back against their demands. But I can feel the anger inside me starting to ebb, replaced by a sense of weariness that is all-consuming. It is as if the fight has gone from me, and I'm left feeling strangely deflated.

Dimitri and Erik exchange a look as if they are communicating wordlessly. It is a sign of the deep bond that binds us together, a brotherhood forged in the crucible of violence and death.

"Come, Luka," Erik says, his voice softening. "Let's go upstairs and celebrate your homecoming."

I groan, but I do what he says, falling in step with them as we leave the basement. I'm numb inside, head reeling from the rush of rage I just succumbed to.

We move through the lavish halls of my mansion, and I admire the luxurious decor Erik and Dimitri had set up while I was in jail. Crystal chandeliers reflect a warm light over the room, and paintings and sculptures speak of my wealth and power. As we navigate the endless rooms and passageways, I am awed by their efforts but remain steadfast in my goal to reclaim what is mine.

The party is in full swing as I step through the door of the grand ballroom. Laughter and conversation mix with the tinkling of glasses and swish of silk as guests mingle. I am accosted almost immediately.

"Luca Ivankov," a woman purrs. "You must be so…pent up after all that time locked away. I'd love to help you release that tension." The flirtatious vixen sidles up to me, her fingers trailing like fire along my arm, pushing her huge tits toward my chest.

My body is fucking hungry for touch, for carnal pleasure. Four goddamn years in jail have left me starved and desperate for intimacy, and I can't fucking deny that my libido is in overdrive. But there's not a chance in hell I'm screwing this woman.

What's gotten into me?

"Go find someone else," I snarl, ice coating my words.

She gapes at me, taken aback by my frigid dismissal. Desperate to save face, she forces a smile and saunters away, setting her sights on some other unsuspecting prey.

The bass thumps through my body as I move through the party, feeling the eyes of countless women on me. They are drawn to the danger that surrounds me, the hint of violence that lingers in the air. I should be reveling in the attention, drowning in pussy. Instead, I make my way through the throng, avoiding engagement.

Finally, I stand in a corner, observing the cattle parade. The mansion is filled with the rich and powerful of the city. The glamorous set, the beautiful people… But my attention is drawn to a clumsy waitress who keeps stumbling over her own feet.

I coughed out a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Dimitri asks as he joins me.

"Her." I grin at him, nodding toward the waitress. "That girl over there. She's a walking disaster."

Erik chuckles as he slides up beside us and peers in the direction I've been staring for the past half hour. "Don't tell me you've found yourself another clumsy bitch."

I shoot him a look of warning.

Dimitri shakes his head. "You can't deny it, Luka. You've always had a soft spot for the underdogs."

I roll my eyes, but I can't deny the truth of his words. Maybe it's because I know what it's like to be underestimated, to be counted out before the game has even begun.

But as I watch the waitress stumble and nearly drop her tray again, I can feel something stirring inside me that goes beyond just entertainment. Maybe it's the fact that I've been locked up for four years with nothing but my own hand for company. I watch her as she makes her way around the room, her tray of drinks shaking in her hands.

"She looks like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time," I mutter. But there's something alluring about the way she moves, like she's dancing to a song only she can hear.

Erik raises an eyebrow. "So, you're saying you have a thing for baby giraffes?"

I pay him no attention. Instead, I weave through the crowd and move closer to the tasty little brunette.

Well, well, well. It seems I've just found the cure for a very dull evening.

Chapter 2

Sophia

48 hours before the party

I GROAN as the sack comes off my face. My head is ringing, my eyes bleary. The world is a blur of indistinct shapes and colors.

Dear God!

My head feels like it's been split open.

Memories start to flood back, hazy and disjointed. I remember leaving Tara's coffee shop, the bitter taste of espresso still on my tongue. I remember walking through the alleyway, my usual shortcut to my second job at the mall. It had been quiet, too quiet. And then I felt it, that prickling sensation down the back of my neck that told me I was being watched.

I had turned around, the fear already starting to rise in my chest. And then everything had gone dark.

My hands are tied, but not tightly enough to be painful. I adjust to a more comfortable position on the creaking chair. Realization suddenly dawns…

Someone kidnapped me! Oh God, please!

"I think you broke the doll," I hear a voice say. The sound startles me, and I jolt my head upright, my eyes scanning the room for the source.

My captor steps out of the shadows, and I can feel the blood drain from my face. He's tall and menacing, with a shock of gray hair and eyes that seem to bore into my very soul. There's something in the cruel curve of his lips that gives me the impression that he enjoys inflicting pain.

He walks towards me with an air of confidence, the aura around him so sinister that it makes me want to scream and break free. But I keep my mouth shut, even though I am scared out of my mind.

Don't show him you're afraid!

He crouches down to my level, his eyes scanning my face, and I try to look anywhere but at him. He has a few black strands in his silver hair, and his gray eyes look like storm clouds. He pushes my hair away from my face, and I feel his palm linger against my skin briefly.

"Don't be afraid, pretty doll," he whispers. "No one is going to hurt you…"

But I can feel the lie behind his words. I'm terrified, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to figure out what to do. I can see the craving in his eyes, the hunger for power and control. It's sickening.

"Unless you don't do what we ask you to," he adds, a sly smile twisting his mouth.

I try to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to show any weakness. But the fear is still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

I don't know how I'm going to get out of this alive.

I glance around the room, looking for any sign of a way out. The windows are too high, the door is guarded. There's no way I can escape on my own. I can feel my heart racing, and I try to keep my breathing even, but it's hard with the menace he exudes.

"I don't know who you guys are, but clearly, you've got the wrong person," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Do we?" he asks, standing up to face the two men behind him. "She says we have the wrong person."

"No. I'm certain,' I say firmly. "You have the wrong person. I have no money. There's no point in kidnapping me," I try to reason with him. He just smirks and steps closer until I can feel the heat emanating from his body. As he reaches out to touch me, I flinch away, but he catches my cheeks in a tight grip. He pulls me closer.

"You're wrong, pretty doll. You're worth everything to me," he murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. I recoil in horror.

"Get away from me, you freak! What do you want from me?" My voice grows shrill as I twist my head away.

"A feisty one." He chuckles, "All in due time, my dear."

I struggle to free myself from the ropes, but it's no use. I am completely at his mercy.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice trembling. "What the hell do you want from me?"

He regards me with a glint in his eyes. Malice rolls from him in waves.

"Ah! Yes, how terribly impolite of me," he drawls, savoring the moment.

"My name is Aleks, but around these parts, people call me the Big Boss." His laughter chills me, a sinister reminder of his power over me. Yet, the contemptuous sneer on his face makes my blood boil.

What a narcissistic bastard!

"You, my dear," he continues, his tone dripping with menace, "are merely a pawn in a much larger game. Nothing personal, of course."

"What game? What are you talking about?" Confusion joins my fear now.

He smirks, "You'll find out soon enough."

This must be a mistake. It has to be!

"You must have mistaken me for someone else!" My voice trembles slightly, but I force myself not to waver as I meet his gaze.

"So, you're not Sophia Williams?" The man's words hit me like a freight train. He knows my name.

How? I never told him.

Panic rises in my chest as he continues to speak, "You're not Sophia Williams," he says, "and Nilo Williams isn't your brother?" His voice is laced with amusement. He's toying with me. He leans in closer, his eyes gleaming as he sees me shrink back. "You're not as clever as you think you are."

I look at him in shock, my mouth hanging open.

Nilo, what the hell have you done?

His deep, sinister chuckle sends a chill down my spine. It's as if he's relishing in the fear he's causing me, enjoying the way I tremble before him. The sound echoes through the small, dimly lit room, filling the space with an ominous energy that makes my heart race even faster.

"Let me tell you a story about yourself, Sophia Williams. You're 23 years old, and you work three jobs just to take care of your sick grandmother and support your drug-dealing brother. You work as a waitress, a sales associate at a department store, and a caregiver for a wealthy family. Did I miss anything important?"

I swallow hard, my mind reeling. How could he know all of this? And why is he telling me?

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to steady my voice. "Well, thanks for the goddamn life story recap," I sneer. "I mean, you've got the basics down, but did you have to make it sound so dramatic?" I force bravado into my reply, despite the panic bubbling in my chest. "I'm not sure if you're auditioning for a soap opera or something. Just tell me what you want already."

If my attitude annoys him, it doesn't show. Instead, lets out a laugh. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in you and your family. And I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want."

My head begins to spin as I try to figure out what this is all about. "I haven't done anything wrong," I manage to say. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I can't let them see my weakness. It'll be like blood in the water with a hungry shark – one drop, and I'll be devoured.

Keep your guard up!

Suddenly, I feel his rough, calloused hands grab my chin and force my head up, exposing my neck. I gasp for air as he clamps a hand around my throat, his fingers tightening. My eyes water, and my vision blurs. I struggle, trying to loosen his grip by lowering my chin, but it just makes it worse. Panic claws at my chest, and I start to feel light-headed.

"You're a fighter, I'll give you that," he says, amusement in his voice. "But you're in way over your head."

I glare at him, somehow finding a kernel of courage. "Let go of me," I rasp out, my voice hoarse from lack of oxygen.

He chuckles, his grip tightening even further. "I like it when they're feisty," he says, and I feel a shiver run through me. Suddenly, he releases me with a hard shove. My head drops back, and I suck in sweet air.

He turns to the two men behind him. "Bring him out."

I watch in horror as they drag my brother's battered body into the room and drop him on the floor beside me. He groans in pain, and I feel a surge of anger and fear wash over me.

"You see, your brother stole from me," the man says with a sneer. "So much that you and all of your jobs would take nearly a decade to repay me."

"Fuck you!" I scream, tears streaming down my face. "Let go of my brother! Let go of him, you bastard!"

As I struggle to catch my breath, the man stares at me appraisingly, his eyes cold and calculating. He seems to be contemplating his next move, and I know that I have to be ready for anything.

"Alright, Sophia," he begins, his voice low and menacing. "I'll make you a deal. You help me with a little task, and I'll let your brother go. In fact, I'll even forget his debt."

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I clench my fists, my anger flaring at his mocking tone. But I can't let my emotions control me. I need to think strategically if I want to save my brother.

"Wh-what do you need me to do? I'll do anything. Please." I know he can hear the desperation in my voice, but the sight of my brother's unmoving form is tearing away the last of my defenses.

"You're going to spy for me, little doll," he says mockingly. "There's this man, Luka Ivankov. I need your help to keep tabs on him. I have a feeling he might be coming for my throne now that he's out of…" He trails off for a moment, a cruel smile dancing on the edge of his lips. "Detention," he finishes.

"How am I supposed to do that?" I snap. I look up at him with a fierce rage burning in my chest, using it as fuel to face any task he throws at me. I hold on to the feeling, wondering where I fit into all this.

"I need you to infiltrate his house and bug all the important rooms there. Specifically, his private office that's attached to his bedroom," Aleks says.

"And why can't any of your lackeys do it? Why kidnap an innocent woman and drag her into your sick games?" I ask as I shoot a glare at the two men behind him.

"Because," he starts as if the reason was very obvious, "if Luka catches an intruder, they won't make it out of his house alive. Girls like you are expendable; my men are not."

"What?" I whisper, uncertain I heard him right. "What kind of man would do that?"

"Let's just say he's in the business of crime," my captor says coolly.

Oh, God. He wants me to spy on a mobster!

"But…but how am I supposed to do that?" I blurt.

"He'll be having a celebration at his estate in two days. Sneak into the party. Bug his bedroom and office and get the fuck out. If Luka finds out you're spying for me, he'll end your life right there on the spot."

"I-I…" My words fail me as I hear his requests.

This is a suicide mission!

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "If I do this for you, if I risk my life to spy for you, you have to promise me one thing," I say, my voice shaking but firm.

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused by my audacity. "And what is that?"

"You let my brother go…unharmed. You leave him alone, and you never come near him or my family again. That's the only way I'll do this."

For a moment, Aleks looks like he's weighing his options, and I hold my breath, hoping he'll agree to my terms.

Finally, he smirks and nods. "Fine. Do this for me, and your brother goes free. But remember, you better not fail, or the consequences will be dire."

"You keep your word, and I'll keep mine," I say firmly, even though my stomach is churning with anxiety. But if it means ensuring my brother's safety, I don't care what kind of mission this is – I'll walk straight into the fucking lion's den without a second thought.

"Deal," says Aleks. "Now let me tell you what the plan is…"