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.