CHAPTER 5: HUNTING TITAN

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.