GIOVANNI'S POV
The black wool felt like a second skin, impeccably tailored to the contours of my frame. In the full-length mirror, I was a silhouette of power, a stark contrast to the opulent gold-leafed wallpaper of the Empire Hotel's event hall. This was it. Tonight, I was to solidify my position, not just as a leader, but as the Pakhan. A marriage, a strategic alliance, a blood pact sealed with a kiss – simple, ruthless business. "Looks like someone's having cold feet," Alexei's voice, laced with amusement, cut through the tense silence. Sergei snickered in agreement. I met their gaze in the mirror, a flicker of annoyance crossing my features. "I don't back down," I stated, my voice is a low growl. "Ever." They knew that. Everyone knew that. This wasn't about fear, it was about the…distaste. The charade. Julianna Conti, a beautiful, vapid creature, meant absolutely nothing to me. Our alliance, however, meant everything. It was a shield against the ambitions of the Kuznetsov clan, a bulwark securing the Russian Mafia's grip on power. My mind drifted back to my father’s words, “Family first, Giovanni. Always.” This marriage wasn’t about love, it was about legacy. It was about ensuring our bloodline remained untouchable. Dmitri, ever the stoic and efficient lieutenant, entered the room. "Everything is set, Giovanni. The hall is prepared. The guests are waiting. Security is in place." He met my eyes, a subtle reassurance passed between us. "No sign of the Kuznetsovs. But we remain vigilant." Good. I needed no distractions. No loose ends. Just a smooth, efficient transaction. Taking a deep breath, I was about to step through the doors and into the spotlight when a wave of unease washed over me. The air felt… wrong. I could hear a muffled commotion from somewhere in the bowels of the hotel. "What's happening?" I asked, my voice was sharp. Dmitri’s brow furrowed. "I'll check." He disappeared for what felt like an eternity. When he returned, his face was grim. "There’s a problem. The bridal car hasn't arrived. The Conti family is in a panic." "Find her," I snapped, the first tendrils of irritation coiling in my gut. This was unacceptable. This couldn't be happening. Another ten minutes crawled by, each tick of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner amplifying my rising frustration. Finally, a guard appeared, pale-faced, clutching an envelope. "Sir… she's not in the bridal lounge. This was left behind." He extended the envelope towards me, his hand trembling slightly. I snatched the envelope, the paper thin and flimsy against my calloused fingers. Tearing it open, I recognized Julianna's flowery handwriting. A knot formed in my stomach. I scanned the words, each sentence a blow to my carefully constructed composure. Giovanni, I can only apologize for this. For the humiliation. For the pain I know I am causing you. After my bachelorette party, I realized I can't go through with this. I can't marry someone I don't love. My heart still belongs to Edmond, my first love, and I can no longer deny that. I am choosing him, choosing my own happiness, however selfish that may seem. Please don't look for me. I'm not worth the trouble. Thank you for everything, especially for the… companionship. And for the sex. But I have to live my life, my way. Julianna. I crushed the letter in my fist, the paper crackling like brittle bones. Rage, hot and blinding, consumed me. This… this was a humiliation. A slap in the face. Someone actually dared to shame me, Giovanni Sokolov, in this way. "Find her," I roared, my voice echoing through the room. "Find her, and bring her back." I mobilized my men, turning the Empire Hotel into a locked-down fortress. She couldn’t have gone far. Then, I ordered the wedding coordinator to deliver the devastating news: the wedding was off. No explanations, just a cold, curt announcement. Let the rumors swirl. Let the speculation fester. I retreated to the Sokolov manor, the weight of this betrayal pressing down on me. I needed answers, and I needed them now. Dmitri, as always, was one step ahead. He presented me with a video, grainy footage that confirmed my worst fears. Julianna, fleeing the city in a black sedan, a man beside her. "Edmond Moreau," Dmitri said, his voice flat. "Her first love. They've been seeing each other on weekends. She lied to you about seeing her parents, she also told them she was visiting friends." The seed of rage that had been planted in my gut began to bloom into a poisonous flower. The woman I had been tied to by alliance, the woman who I sleep with for countless times, the woman who would have carried my heir, had been sleeping with another man. Disgust, bitter and acrid, rose in my throat. Then, Dmitri showed me another video, one taken from a camera of one witness at Julianna’s bachelorette party. I watched with mounting horror as my fiancée, the woman who was supposed to be my wife, knelt before a stripper, giving him a blowjob, her face contorted in… pleasure. And then, the final indignity: his seed splattered across her face. My hand clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. I hurled the tablet across the room, the screen shattering against the wall. The image of Julianna, bathing with another man's cum, seared into my memory. Before I could even process the full extent of the betrayal, Dmitri spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "We tracked their vehicle. They were being pursued. There was an accident… a tragic accident. Near the Devil’s Spine mountain road. The car hit a barrier. It exploded on impact." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Neither Julianna nor Edmond survived. They were trapped. Consumed by the flames." Dead. Both Julianna and Edmond. Gone. The woman who had shamed me, the man who had stolen her heart, reduced to burned flesh then ashes. Where was the justice in that? Where was the satisfaction? I did the only thing I could do. I severed all ties with the Conti family, cutting off their resources, their connections, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. Let them grieve. Let them suffer. Let them be feasted by another family who wants to rise in power. But even that wasn’t enough. The rage still festered, a raw, throbbing wound. My mind kept replaying the image of that stripper, whoever he was, the man who had dared to ejaculate on my fiancée's face. A week passed, each day a torturous cycle of rage and frustration. I couldn't trace him. The stripper… the man in the video. The nameless face was a ghost, a figment, a phantom. "Find him," I snarled, my voice barely a whisper. "Find him. I need to know who he is. The easiest way to identify him is to ask the witnesses directly, Julianna's bridesmaid," I stated. I ordered my men to bring me Julianna's closest bridesmaids. Within the hour, Ksenia, Anaia, and Francesca were kneeling before me, their faces pale with terror. "Tell me everything," I commanded, my voice devoid of emotion. "Everything that happened at the bachelorette party." Ksenia, her voice trembling, recounted every detail: the conversations that hints Julianna has doubts proceeding with the wedding, the lap dances, the champagne-fueled revelry. And finally, the stripper. "What was his name?" I demanded, my eyes burning into Francesca’s. "I… I don't know his full name," she stammered. "But… they call him Titan." Titan. The name hung in the air, a target for my fury. "Find him," I repeated, the word a low, guttural growl. "Find Titan, wherever he is in the world. He will pay for Julianna's betrayal." Julianna and Edmond were beyond my reach. But Titan… he was still out there, a flesh-and-blood target for my pain, my rage, my humiliation. I would hunt him down. I would make him suffer. I would make him pay. Because in this world, someone always had to pay.TRISTAN'S POVThe rhythmic thwack of my bullets finding their mark was a comforting melody. Three shots, each a perfect bullseye, nested deep within the dummy’s paper heart and brain. The faint smell of gunpowder hung in the air of the private shooting range, a scent I’d grown to associate with a strange kind of peace."Not bad," Vlad’s voice rumbled from beside me, a low, appreciative murmur that always managed to send a shiver down my spine, whether from annoyance or something else, I was never quite sure.I lowered the pistol, spinning it once on my finger before placing it back on the rack. I raised an eyebrow at him, a half smile twitching at my lips. "That's it? That's the highest compliment you can give? After I skillfully disemboweled that poor unsuspecting paper man?"Vlad chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through the concrete walls. "Don't get it all in your head, Tristan. It would be your weakness if you let arrogance control you." His tone was lecturing, but his eyes he
GIOVANNI'S POVThe expensive silk of my all-black suit felt like a second skin, a testament to the power I was about to claim. In the mirror, my reflection stared back, a man on the precipice of everything he had ever strived for. The color was a deliberate choice for my wedding to Juliana, not just a preference, but a statement. Black symbolized control, an unspoken assertion of my dominance in this world, in this family, in this new union. My jaw was set. My gaze, sharp and unwavering. This day was a culmination, a victory.A rap on the door, then it swung open without waiting for my permission. Anastasia, my sister, stood framed in the doorway, her eyes like chips of ice. She wore a dress the color of twilight, a stark contrast to the celebratory white of the occasion, and her presence dimmed the already filtered light in the room."Brother, go down when you're ready," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. "Let's get
TRISTAN'S POVThe sound was rhythmic, deafening, and satisfying.Bang... bang... bang...I felt the recoil thrum through my forearm, steadying my aim for the next shot. Targets after targets flew backward, splintered into wood and metal dust when the high velocity rounds ripped through them. Cans flew everywhere, metallic bodies twisting in the air before clattering onto the concrete floor. This physical sharpness was the only thing that felt real to me anymore.I removed the heavy ear defenders, letting the sudden, dull quiet settle around me. I pulled the goggles off my face, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light of the indoor range. I was done for today’s session.Suddenly, I heard a few dramatic, short claps echoing across the empty space. I turned, wiping the sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand, and saw Vlad walking towards me, his expensive leather shoes silent on the smooth concrete.“Wow, just wow,” Vlad said, his voice laced with genuine admiration. He stopped
GIOVANNI'S POVThe scream was trapped in my throat, useless against the vast, indifferent expanse of the Atlantic. I did not scream. I yelled. I channeled every ounce of terror and denial into a furious, guttural sound aimed straight at the one man who insisted on injecting logic into my nightmare.“He is not dead, Dmitri! How dare you assume that?” I roared at my right hand, slamming my fist onto the metal table in the viewing deck. The gigantic cruise ship felt small, rocking violently, mocking my inability to control the situation.Dmitri stood his ground, his face a mask of grim loyalty. “Boss, I am stating facts. Logical possibilities,” he said, his voice measured but heavy. He was trying to calm me, and that infuriated me further.“No! He isn’t dead yet! Not until I see his corpse, I won’t believe it,” I yelled. The words were a shield against the crushing certainty that Tristan was gone. I wouldn't accept it until I had physical, undeniable proof.Dmitri s
TRISTAN'S POVMy body felt impossibly heavy, I tried to move my limbs, to twitch a finger, to even shift my weight, but it was useless. My muscles refused to obey, bound by an invisible force or perhaps a profound exhaustion I could not comprehend.I attempted to pry open my eyelids, to pierce through the encroaching darkness, but they were stubbornly glued shut, feeling as though small stones had been placed upon them. Despite this profound paralysis, my other senses seemed to amplify. My hearing sharpened, pulling in the muffled sounds of a distant, murmuring discussion."Did you stabilize him already?" a manly voice cut through the haze.The words were a low rumble, yet they vibrated through me. There was something familiar about that voice, a resonant quality that tugged at some distant corner of my mind, a place I could not quite reach.A cold wave of panic washed over me, though I remained physically inert. Why was I here? What happened? My mind was a blank slate, devoid of any
GIOVANNI'S POVThe sharp, stinging impact across my left cheek was less painful than it was humiliating. It wasn't the force that mattered; it was the sheer temerity, the violation of expectation.Anastasia, my quiet, delicate younger sister, had just slapped me... and the sound of the blow seemed to absorb all other noise in the sprawling, overly opulent hall.Juliana, who only moments earlier had been arguing fiercely with me about the consequences of my treatment of Tristan, seemed to have swallowed her own caustic tongue. She was frozen, eyes wide, looking not at me, but at Anastasia as if seeing a ghost.My blood ran cold for a second before the ferocious heat of indignation took over. I raised a trembling hand to my cheek. My skin was already throbbing, radiating heat."You... you slapped me? Anastasia what the heck?" I demanded, the words grating out through gritted teeth.I could still taste the metallic tang of shock. I analyzed her face, searching for the sister I knew, the