Chapter 6

10:00am

Hades wasn’t having a good hair day. Actually, scratch that. Hades always has a good hair day. But today, his mood? Let’s just say a hurricane in a tailored suit had just stormed into the estate.

“GREY!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls like a toddler with a drum set.

 “Gregory Vancouver!” he shouted at the top of his voice, his polished Italian shoes pounding on the marble floor as he moved with a swift, barely leashed fury, a crumpled magazine clutched in his hand.

He took the grand staircase two steps at a time, his anger a palpable force that seemed to vibrate the very air. He had ordered them to cease the torture of the woman, his woman, but Gregory, in his infuriating arrogance, had dismissed his command. Asides that, his brother had just pulled off another heist on him.

Hades had received the news this morning, a slap in the face delivered with the morning coffee: Medline, the woman his grandfather had handpicked to be his bride, had eloped. Run off to some tropical paradise with her “ass” of a boyfriend, as Hades so eloquently put it in his head. And Hades knew, with a certainty that settled like a stone in his gut, that his brother was involved.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about marrying Medline himself – the idea of a pre-arranged union made his skin crawl – but it was his father’s dying wish, practically an order chiseled in granite, that Hades, as the firstborn son, must be wed before his thirty-fifth birthday. Only then would he receive the full, unbridled authority over the entire mafia network.

Right now, he was merely the head of the American Vancouvers. But the “clause,” that damn clause his father had forged with the late Vladimir Kalashnikov, stipulated that without a wife by that deadline – a deadline that loomed a mere two days away – the power would shift. It would slip from his grasp and land squarely in the hands of Gregory. And while his brother already held sway over the Russian Kalashnikov operations, he was still, technically, supposed to answer to Hades. Their grandfather, the old patriarch, was the only thing preventing all out war.

Hades burst into Gregory’s office, only to find it empty. He knew, with a weary sigh, exactly where his brother would be. Down in the dungeons, no doubt, still playing the sadist with the woman they’d captured. Either that, or indulging in some other form of twisted gratification, his mind conjuring images he would rather not dwell on. He still called her Mia, even though she’d denied it a thousand times. Rounder ass or not, he knew. She was Mia.

The woman who had stolen from him. The woman who, in a way, had hardened him. Almost ruined him. And yet, all he wanted, with a primal, insistent hunger that gnawed at his control, was to possess her. Every day for the past seven years, he had replayed that night in his head, the regret of not taking her then a constant, bitter taste on his tongue.

He had wanted to do right by her, a foolish impulse he now recognized as weakness, and she had used his “goodness” against him. Now, he intended to repay that favor, tenfold. But he knew, with a cold certainty, that leaving her to Gregory’s tender mercies was not the answer. He wanted her for himself. Whatever that meant. Whatever the cost.

Turns out, Hades had been busy with some “important meetings” last night and did not sleep in the estate, which is code for “things that involve people regretting their life choices.” So, he wasn’t around to make sure his orders were followed.

As he stalked towards the dungeon, he saw Gregory emerging from the shadows, his hands… bloody. “Gregory,” Hades barked, his voice sharp and dangerous.

The two brothers faced each other, the air crackling with tension. “What do you want, brother?” Gregory sneered, the word dripping with a venom that made Hades’s lip curl.

“Medline,” Hades said, tossing the magazine at Gregory’s chest. “Care to explain this little… getaway?”

Gregory caught the magazine, his eyes scanning the headline. He shrugged, a casual, infuriating gesture. “She ran off. What’s there to explain? She was never going to go through with it.”

“And you knew this?” Hades’s voice was low, a barely contained growl.

“Maybe,” Gregory conceded, his smirk widening. “She confided in me. Said she couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love. I’m a good listener, what can I say?”

“You encouraged her,” Hades accused, his eyes narrowing. “You helped her.”

“Prove it,” Gregory challenged, his eyes flashing.

Hades ignored the taunt, his mind already moving on. “I have a huge feeling you jerk off from annoying me. Now for a more serious matter.” Hades moved closer, twisting his face as he snarled “Stay away from the woman, Mia is off limit to you,” he said, his voice hard. “She’s mine to handle.”

Gregory’s amusement vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. “The hell she is. I found her. I’ll deal with her as I see fit.”

“She’s a traitor, she’s a spy.” Hades countered, his voice dangerously soft. “And I’ll decide her punishment.”

“You’re soft,” Gregory spat, his lip curling. “You always were. You should have let me handle her from the start. She’s my date remember? And this is my turf. My control, brother.”

“Soft?” Hades scoffed, a humorless laugh that held no mirth. “I’m the only thing standing between you and a very ugly death. You’re playing with fire, Gregory. You’re making deals with the Irish.”

Gregory’s eyes widened, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “What are you talking about?”

“The organ harvesting,” Hades said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “The girls they’re selling. It’s filth, even for us. And you’re in the middle of it.”

Gregory’s face hardened. “You can’t prove anything.”

“I don’t need to,” Hades said, his gaze unwavering. “But I’m warning you, you’re biting off more than you can chew. You’re getting too comfortable with the Kalashnikov legacy, Gregory. You’re forgetting who you are.”

“I know exactly who I am,” Gregory snarled. “And I know who you are. Jealous. You’re jealous that I’m running things here. That I have the power.”

Hades stepped closer, towering over his brother, his presence radiating a cold, implacable menace. “Don’t get too comfortable, Gregory. The real owners of the Kalashnikov legacy will rise again. Sooner than you think. And this little arrangement, this pathetic clause our fathers cooked up, will end.”

Gregory’s face flushed with fury. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” Hades said, his voice like ice. He turned to leave, then paused, his eyes narrowing.

“I saw the way you looked at her last night, Hades. I promise she’s not the same chick you’ve been obsessed with for the past decade. This one is mine to deal with.” Grey’s head was almost removing steam, he knew his brother wouldn’t let him have his way.

Hades laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, really? And how exactly did you meet her? Hmm? Was she, perhaps, in a vulnerable state?” Having a certainty that this woman sure as hell manipulated her meeting with Gregory.

Gregory not wanting to give Hades the satisfaction, ever the master of manipulation, his eyes calculating, offered a twisted compromise. “Fine. You can have her. But stay out of my business with the Irish. Turn a blind eye. Don’t go running to the other families, telling tales.”

Hades considered the offer, his mind racing. It was a dangerous game Gregory was playing, and Hades knew he should expose him. But the thought of Gregory continuing to… use Claudine… it was unbearable. “we’ll see.”

“Do whatever you like with her then,” Gregory hissed, his voice dismissive. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

Hades watched him go, his jaw tight. Then, with a determined set to his jaw, he turned and strode towards the dungeon. The place reeked of blood and fear, a stench that clung to the damp stone walls. He unbuttoned his shirt, rolled up his sleeves, preparing himself for what he was about to see. He found three guards in the room, their faces hard and unyielding. Gregory’s men, not his.

“Leave,” Hades commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

They hesitated, defiance flickering in their eyes. “We have our orders—”

“My orders supersede yours,” Hades snapped, his voice like a whip. “Get out. Now. But the woman stays. She is under my protection.”

They exchanged uneasy glances, but they knew better than to disobey. They filed out, leaving Hades alone in the room with the unconscious woman and Artemis- his own female guard that he had assigned to be in the room with Claudine.

The sight that greeted him was enough to turn his stomach. The room itself was a chamber of horrors, stained and scarred. But it was the state of the woman that truly made his blood boil. She was stark naked, her body bruised and battered, her arms chained above her head in a grotesque parody of a crucifixion. He had ordered the cross-like position that first night, yes, but not this.

He could see that Gregory had forced them to braid her hair, then pulled at the braids with brute force, leaving bloody tracks on her scalp. Her hair was a ragged mess, chopped and torn. They would have to shave it completely, let it grow back properly.

Despite the brutality, despite the evidence of what she had done, a traitor, a thief, all he wanted to do was touch her. Kiss her. Protect her from further harm. His harm.

Artemis, ever watchful, cleared her throat, breaking the heavy silence. “Should I… wake her?”

Hades nodded, his gaze fixed on the woman. He had been sitting there, motionless, for what felt like an eternity, simply watching her.

That night, when they’d caught her in Gregory’s office, about to steal information again, his right-hand man, Charon, had pressed a gun to her head. And what had she done? She’d smashed her phone on the table, then swallowed the SIM card. The sheer audacity of it. He’d nearly ripped her throat open to retrieve it, his anger a white-hot fury. She’d bitten him, the little hellcat.

Now, looking at her, he wondered, not for the first time, who she truly was. What secrets lay hidden beneath that defiant exterior.

Artemis poured a bucket of ice water over the woman’s head. She didn’t stir. Another bucket. Still nothing. Finally, Artemis slapped her face, gently at first, then with increasing force.

“Enough!” Hades barked, his voice echoing in the chamber.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused and disoriented. She coughed, spitting out blood, her body trembling violently. Artemis slapped her again, harder this time, trying to bring her back to reality.

“Enough!” Hades shouted again.

The woman’s gaze finally focused, her eyes locking with Hades’s. Shock, then fear, flooded her face. Her knees buckled, her body sagging against the chains.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a raw whisper. “Don’t kill me. Please.”

Hades said nothing. He simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. He took his time, studying her face, searching for any flicker of recognition, any hint of the woman he thought he knew. The features had changed, yes. But the eyes… the fire was still there.

Not his Mia? He refused to soften. He leaned back in his chair, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Hello, Mia.”

She struggled against the chains, her voice rising in desperation. “I’m not Mia! I’m not Mia!”

“All of you are sick,” she spat, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Let me go! Please, just let me go!”

Hades remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Then, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it, revealing a syringe.

Her struggles intensified, her voice filled with terror. “What are you doing? What is that?”

“Just returning a favor,” Hades responded with a smirk, his voice low and menacing. “From years back.”

She cursed him, her words a mix of English and heavily accented Russian. He didn’t miss the slip.

He withdrew the plunger, filling the syringe with the clear liquid. “Truth serum,” he explained, his voice devoid of emotion. “It’ll loosen your tongue. Make this whole situation… much easier.”

He saw the fear in her eyes, stark and raw. He knew she was hiding something. A lot of things.

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her body was… a weapon. Designed to seduce, to manipulate, to extract information. But why? The girl he’d spent that night with, laughing, tending to his wounds… she’d seemed so young, so carefree.

He hated himself. He hated himself for still wanting to trust her, even now. His mind was a battlefield, torn between suspicion and a desperate, irrational hope.

“You’re lucky,” he said, his voice rough. “Extremely lucky. But your luck won’t last forever. If you were anyone else, I would have snapped your neck without a second thought. No torture. No games. I have no qualms about dealing with women. My enemies have no gender. But you… you’ve double-crossed me. Twice.”

Claudine gritted her teeth, her anger barely contained. “Stop calling me that! I’m not some bitch you met years ago!”

Hades moved closer, his gaze intense. He was about to inject her when the tattoo on her shoulder caught his eye. The dragon. He dropped his hand, his fingers tracing the outline of the ink. A flimsy excuse to cover her gunshot wound. Interesting.