6. RADOMIR

Chapter 6

RADOMIR

I settle into my chair, the smooth leather cold against my back, watching Mark writhe, his discomfort as palpable as a worm on a hook. Viktor looms by the door, silent but radiating menace, a reminder that escape isn’t an option.

Before I can speak, Mark dives into his performance, his desperation pouring from every trembling word. It’s almost pathetic—almost amusing.

“Please, Radomir, don’t hurt Leigh!” Mark pleads, his voice breaking on the words. “She’s angry—impulsive! Her temper gets the better of her sometimes.” The false paternal concern in his tone grates against my patience.

My disbelief nearly has me gaping. Not a shred of accountability. It’s all deflection—pushing the blame onto his daughter.

“She’ll be punished,” I say coolly. “For the chaos she’s caused and for running off. But this? This is on you, Mark.”

The mention of Leigh ignites a tension deep in my core. Her defiance burns in my mind, a flame that refuses to die out. She’s trouble, no question, but I’ve built my empire on taming chaos. And Leigh Dalton? She’s just another storm waiting to be controlled.

“I was the one she attacked—pepper spray, a bottle to the head, the whole nine yards!” Mark insists, his voice shrill. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to control her!”

“Control her?” Gavriil snaps, his voice cutting through the tension. “She’s your daughter, Mark, not some stray mutt.”

Mark bristles, his jaw tightening. “I did my best. You try being a single father!” He hesitates, then his expression lights with a spark of desperation. “But I can find her for you! I know her hiding spots, the people she trusts.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Gavriil’s disgust boils over. “That’s your kid, and you’re offering her up like a sacrificial lamb. You really are a piece of shit.”

“Enough,” I cut in, silencing them both. Gavriil shoots me a glowering look, but I ignore him, returning my attention to Mark. He’s visibly shaken now, though I suspect it has less to do with Leigh’s fate and more with the thin ice he’s skating on.

“Write down every place she could run to,” I order, my tone leaving no room for argument as I shove a notepad and pen toward him.

Mark hesitates before the pen touches the paper. His hand shakes as he scrawls out a list.

When Mark hands me the notepad, I tear off the page and hand it to Viktor. “Get this to Dolph and Fredrik.” Viktor nods, slipping out of the room.

Mark shifts uneasily in his chair, his hands twisting together. “This won’t affect our deal, will it?” The wheedling tone grates on me, the con artist in him momentarily shining through the cracks of his cowardice.

I savor the silence, watching the sweat bead on his brow, his nerves unraveling one thread at a time. Mark doesn’t realize that he’s not negotiating—he’s begging. And beggars in my world get nothing unless I allow it. Right now, I allow him to breathe, nothing more and I get to torment him with another of his weaknesses—his daughter.

“I’ll let you know once my men find Leigh. And how willingly she submits to me.“ I break the thick silence.

Mark’s face drops, his lips trembling as he raises his hands in a frantic, useless protest. “No! Wait!” he blurts out. “Leigh is... she’s...” His voice falters, his composure cracking. “Fuck! I can’t do this.” He shakes his head, and I can see he’s fighting with what little conscience he has. “There must be another way.” I’m unsure if he’s speaking to me or himself, as his voice is a hoarse whisper and his looking down at his legs, like a homeless person having a conversation with the pavement.

“If you’re talking about Leigh,” I lean forward, my eyes hardening making his eyes snap back to mine. “There is no other way out for her. You’ve already sealed her fate.”

He has gone still and is watching me through his red, puffy eyes. His jaw is swollen, and I can’t help the pang of pride I feel for the hellion that did that to him. At least I know she can handle herself in a tough situation, and I can imagine that taking on her father was really tough for her.

“Spineless prick,” Gavriil mutters glaring at Mark with the kind of disdain only a man bound by honor can muster for someone who abandoned his—and my cousin has more honor than any other I know.

Gavriil’s fate was sealed years ago, a victim of family duty and the promises of a past generation. Dmitri Mirochin, my mother’s youngest brother, had fucked up a deal with a remote Russian village to secure their unwavering loyalty. To fix the fuck up and secure an agreement, a Mirochin son and the village elder’s granddaughter would be bound by marriage.

That promise hung over our family like a curse until it fell squarely on Gavriil’s shoulders. He was forced to marry Irina Voronina, the village elder’s granddaughter, to uphold the pact. Without the marriage, we would have lost the village’s vital support—their resources, including drugs and weapons, that have bolstered our power for decades.

Irina is beautiful, but her heart is colder than the wind that cuts across the Siberian tundra. She’s also fiercely possessive, a dangerous trait given that Gavriil is in love with someone else—a secret Oleksi and I know, though Gavriil doesn’t realize it. He sacrificed his freedom for the family, and I haven’t forgotten it.

Knowing this, I understand how the situation with Leigh must weigh on him. Gavriil has always valued freedom, even if he’s never truly had it. Born into the Bratva, he’s lived his entire life shackled by obligations he didn’t choose.

“I hope you haven’t led my men on a wild goose chase. Just because you’ve suddenly suffered an attack of conscience!” I warn Mark, sitting back and watching him intently. “Because if you have, when my men do find Leigh, and they will...” My eyes bore into his as I let my words drift. “You’ll both be punished for it.” I lean forward, a slow smile curving my lips, making sure Mark knows exactly what kind of punishment I intend for his daughter. “While my men handle you, I’ll be claiming what’s mine—Leigh.”

His eyes widen, and his face has gone ashen as he chokes. “No… wait!” His hands fly up. “Leigh is an innocent!” He blurts out, making my brows shoot up. “Jesus!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I can’t do this.” He mutters again, his eyes dropping to the floor. “There has to be another way.”

“Now you grow a fucking conscience?” Gavriil growls at Mark. “You’ve already tossed her into the wolves’ den to save your own skin.”

“That’s not what I did!” Mark roars, shocking both Gavriil and me. His mask slips, and for a fleeting moment, I see it: the calculating, ruthless man behind the veneer of cowardice. But just as quickly, it’s gone. He slumps again, hands trembling. Mark’s gaze flickers with guilt before he blurts out, “She’s pure... untouched. A virgin.”

Time freezes. His words sink into my mind like razor-sharp claws, ripping through my thoughts with their implications. My chest tightens as an unfamiliar possessiveness surges through me. A virgin? Leigh—fiery, defiant Leigh—untouched. Unclaimed. The thought is intoxicating as my want of her grows into something the likes I’ve never felt for another woman before and the power of it is dangerous.

I school my expression, refusing to let Mark see how his confession has affected me.

Gavriil lets out a low whistle, his disgust palpable. “You really are a fucking bastard,” he mutters to Mark. “Selling your own daughter, knowing—“ He doesn’t finish the thought, shaking his head in disbelief. “How would you even know something like that?”

“She has never had a boyfriend, not serious anyway. Leigh has dated a few times but never the same guy twice, and she’s never let it get that far,“ Mark says.

“Maybe she just hid it from you?” Gavriil points out. “I know I would never trust you with anything.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. “Her best friend confirmed it.”

“What the fuck!” Gavriil hisses. “You asked her best friend? That’s fucked up.”

“No, I did not.” Mark looks at him like he’s mad. “Sabrina’s mother overheard them talking a few days ago.”

“Oh! A nosy parker mother!” Gavriil looks even more disgusted as he has a nosy Parker aunt—my mother. “Why would she tell you that?”

“We’re old friends!” Mark shrugs. “Regardless, my daughter is an innocent.” He turns to me almost pleadingly.

“I don’t care one way or the other. This changes nothing.” I rise to my full height, towering over Mark’s slumped figure. “Leigh is mine now—no longer your problem. But if you’re so desperate to make amends, there is something else you can tell me.”

Mark looks up, his eyes reflecting his torment. “What?”

“The Greek matriarch,” I reply, watching him closely.

To my surprise, he doesn’t flinch. No panic, no fear. It’s just a flicker of curiosity. It’s unsettling. Most men would rather face death than breathe her name, but Mark? He barely reacts.

I lean forward, ready to press him harder, but a knock at the door cuts through the tension like a blade. Viktor steps inside, his face unreadable. He leans close, speaking quietly. “You’re needed in the dungeon. There’s something you need to hear.”

I grit my teeth, irritated by the interruption. But Viktor wouldn’t dare disturb me unless it was important. “Stay here,” I bark at Mark, then nod to Gavriil. “Let’s go.”

As we step out of the office, Gavriil’s voice is low and laced with anger. “You don’t have to do this to Leigh, Rad.”

“I’m helping her escape her loser father, aren’t I? And I’m setting her up in a life of luxury,” I reply sharply, the edge in my tone unmistakable.

“A gilded cage, you mean,” he hisses, his blue-green eyes blazing. “For fuck’s sake, Rad, she’s an innocent. We don’t hurt innocents. Or did you forget that?”

“I have no intention of hurting Leigh,” I snap back, meeting his fury with cold detachment. “You know how this world works, Gavriil. The children always pay for their parents’ sins. You, of all people, should understand that better than anyone. Because of what Leigh is sacrificing, her father gets to live free of debt. That is the deal.”

“What she’s sacrificing?” He spits the words like venom, his expression twisted with disgust. “You make it sound like she had a choice!”

His words hang heavy in the air, and neither of us speaks for a moment. Then he steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I hope, for your sake, you haven’t just bitten off more than you can chew. Because I’ve seen just how much Leigh values her freedom. And trust me, you have no idea what people like us—people whose souls crave freedom—are capable of when someone tries to chain them.”

His words linger long after he turns and walks off, each one striking a chord I’d rather ignore.

When we walk into the basement, Gunner greets us with a grim expression, looking more frustrated than usual. “The boss of this little crew has something to say. We didn’t even have to touch him before he started asking for you.”

Gunner’s voice carries disappointment as he leans against the wall.

“Why don’t you go start trying to extract information from one of the others?” I suggest.

“Because the scrawny demanding one,” Gunner points to the man chained to the cold stone wall, “assured me his men would die before saying a word, and if I harmed a hair on one of their heads, he wouldn’t give up some information he knows you’d want to hear.”

“Ballsy.” My eyes meet the young man’s, and for a moment, I’m taken aback by how young he looks—barely old enough to shave. He’s calm—too calm, which is dangerous. He has that look, though—the one I had when I was thrust into power too young. He’s been molded by something hard. “Who are you?”

The young man stares back at me, unfazed despite the chains. “Someone with information you want,” he says, his voice steady. “Information you’ll only get if my men are guaranteed safe passage out of here.”

Spoken like a true leader looking out for his men first. I arch an eyebrow, my mind whirring. “Who the hell are you?”

Gavriil steps closer, suspicion etched into his face. “How old are you, kid?”

The young man glares, annoyance breaking through his calm facade. “What the fuck does that matter?”

Recognition flickers in his eyes, and he sneers. “Wait—you’re the owner of the Ember Club.”

Gavriil snorts, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s it to you?” His tone is sharp, his muscles tense, ready to act. “Who the fuck are you? And don’t make me ask again.”

The kid doesn’t flinch. He’s either the mafia or some form of law enforcement. Trouble, either way. “Gavriil,” I snap, my voice cutting through the tension. “Let him speak.”

Gavriil looks at me irritated, but steps back. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone dripping with skepticism.

The man straightens, meeting my gaze with an unsettling calm. “I’m Luca Fabri.”

The name hits like a freight train. Fabri—mafia!

“You’re Enzo’s son?” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Your father and I have an agreement because of a shared enemy. Why the hell would you undermine that by cheating at one of my poker tables?”

Luca doesn’t flinch. “I’m aware of the alliance. That’s why I joined your game.”

I scoff, folding my arms. “Some introduction—cheating at four of my tables?”

“We weren’t cheating,” Luca says, his tone sharp. “We used your planted players’ seats to gather intel on the four men who joined your game last minute.”

“The whole game was last minute,” I counter, narrowing my eyes. The kid’s right about the newcomers—high rollers, vouched for by some of my oldest guests. “What’s your point?”

Luca doesn’t hesitate. “The four men are Greek Special Forces. They infiltrated your game.”

The room goes still. My jaw tightens. “The Greek matriarch’s men?”

Luca nods. “I believe so.”

“Why are you after them?” Gavriil presses. “And where’s your father?”

Luca’s expression hardens. “My father’s dead. He was killed five days ago.”

There’s a long, shocked pause. Gavriil curses under his breath.

“That’s why you’re here,” I mutter, the realization sinking in. Enzo, dead? “How did your father die?”

“They shot him,” Luca says flatly. “Those Greek bastards were after information. When he wouldn’t give it up, they killed him—and every man with him.”

“Jesus, kid,” Gavriil breathes. “Enzo was a good man.”

Luca doesn’t acknowledge the sentiment. His gaze locks on mine. “They’re after Mark Dalton. He has something they want.”

The name slams into me like a wrecking ball. Mark Dalton. Of course!

I turn to Gunther. “Verify what the kids said,” I bark. Without another word, I storm toward my office, rage boiling under my skin. I have an ugly feeling in my gut that I’m somehow being played.

The door crashes open, and Viktor jumps to his feet. Gavriil is right behind me, but I cut them both off with a snarl. “Out. Now.”

Gavriil and Viktor hesitate at my order but step backward out of the office. I slam the door shut before they can argue.

Mark barely looks up from his seat, his casual demeanor infuriating. Before he can speak, I grab him by the collar, drag him from his seat, and slam him against the wall.

“Start talking, Dalton,” I growl, my voice dripping with venom. “Who the fuck are you protecting from the Greek bitch, and what is she after?”

Mark raises his hands slowly, his movements deliberate. His hand dips into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick folded document. He holds it out to me.

I shove him aside and snatch it, unfolding the paper. The moment my eyes scan the contents, and I flip through the pages, my chest tightens as two names jump out at me throughout the document until I land on the last page—my heart stutters.

“Is this real?” I demand, my voice low, dangerous.

Mark nods, his expression is uncharacteristically somber. “From that document, you will be able to find out everything you need about the Greek matriarch—and more.” His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see something real—pain, sorrow, and regret. He straightens his shirt, his shoulders squaring, and fixes his suit jacket. “Only, if I were you, I’d stick to your mother’s advice and not go digging up the past by looking into the Greek matriarch. It will only pull you down a dark path of information that you’re better off not knowing and pull you into a line of fire we’ve been deflecting from all of you for decades.”

“How do you expect me to believe you or trust any words out of your mouth?” I shake the document. “This is probably as fake as your newfound bravado.”

“Call your mother!” He shrugs, his tone challenging.

His words send zaps of shock through my system. My mother? Before I have time to ponder he pulls me from my thoughts.

“Now, I need something from you.” His eyes become hooded.

“Of course. Here it comes,” I scoff. “How much?”

“I don’t want your money.” His tone shifts, the pitiful mask he wears peeling away to reveal something harder and a lot more dangerous. “I want a promise.”

I say nothing. Just watch him. My eyes narrow with suspicion.

“A promise that you’ll protect my daughter. She doesn’t know about any of this,” he says, his voice firm as his eyes drop pointedly to the document.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your demands?”

His gaze doesn’t falter. “That document you have is the only copy. There are a lot of people after it. You need to hide that and then forget where that is.”

“You’re giving me this?” Now my suspicion has doubled. “Your ticket out of the hell you’ve created for you and your daughter!” He just stares at me, his features a schooled mask.

“That document you have in your hand is not a ticket to anywhere but hell at the moment. A loaded gun with the most delicate hair trigger.” I swear I see glimmer of smugness in his eyes knowing he’s just given me a live grenade without the pin.

“So, I’m just supposed to bury it?”

“Until the time is right,” Mark answers. “Then you give it to the rightful owner of it.”

“The Greek matriarch?”

“Leigh!” He corrects me. “Now, answer me?” His voice grows impatient. “Do you promise to protect my daughter and keep her safe?”

“Who or what, am I protecting her from?”

He pauses for a few tense seconds his eyes boring into mine. “Her father.” The words are so quiet I almost question if I’ve heard them correctly.

“From you?” My eyes widen in confusion. What the fuck is he playing at?

“There’s a shit storm coming, and the last line of defense we may have to save us all from the devastation is that document and my daughter.” Mark’s warning is ominous and makes my spine stiffen. “Here’s a bit of advice for you and your cousins—the sins of our fathers eventually catch up with future generations. So choose your path and the way through it wisely. Try thinking about how your actions will affect your children in the future.” His eyes narrow a bit more. “And if you’ve got any sense, Radomir, when the shit hits the fan soon, you’ll keep your head down and stay the fuck out of our way.”

I’m about to ask what the fuck that’s all supposed to mean, but he doesn’t let me.

His eyes are as cold as steel. His voice drops, heavy and deliberate. “Do I have your promise to keep Leigh safe?” His jaw clenches as he watches me.

“You have my word that I’ll protect Leigh,” I say, my own gaze hardening as the cold realization dawns on me. “But you already knew I would.”

Mark ignores my challenge, his focus unwavering. “I’ll hold you to that word. I have to warn you that the document is not the only thing a lot of people are after.” He lets his words sink in. “So know this, if anything happens to Leigh, I’ll come for your head.” His gaze locks onto mine, a silent threat in the air.

With that, he strides out without another word. I stand frozen, the weight of his warning pressing down on me, mixing with the unease swirling in my gut.

For the first time, the ground beneath me feels unstable, as though the foundation of my empire has begun to crack. And as the door clicks shut, one chilling truth settles over me: tonight, Mark Dalton didn’t lose. He won—and I’ve only just realized it.