Riches in Ruins

(**Ivan Dominic Point of View**)

Freedom carried a scent that I had almost forgotten.

After five years inside prison walls, the world outside felt unfamiliar, as though the air itself had changed while I had been gone. The wind tasted colder against my skin, sharper in my lungs, carrying traces of rain, gasoline, and distant city smoke that prison air had never allowed.

The heavy iron gates behind me groaned slowly as they opened, the metal grinding against itself like an old beast waking from a long sleep. The sound echoed through the quiet morning, deep and hollow, and for a moment it felt less like a door opening and more like a warning closing behind me.

I stepped forward at an unhurried pace, rolling my shoulders as if I could somehow shake away the invisible weight that had settled into my bones during those five long years.

Five years...

Five years of concrete walls that never changed, steel bars that never moved, and endless nights filled with the silence of men who had nothing left to lose.

Five years because of one girl.

The cold Detroit wind brushed against my face as I descended the short steps outside the prison entrance. I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of the city to fill my lungs like something precious that I had nearly forgotten existed.

Rain. Oil. Asphalt.

Freedom.

When I opened my eyes again, I immediately saw the car waiting across the street.

A black Rolls-Royce stood parked near the curb with quiet elegance, its polished surface reflecting the gray morning sky. The engine idled with a soft mechanical hum that barely disturbed the silence surrounding it.

Two men stood beside the vehicle, both wearing dark suits tailored too precisely to belong to ordinary businessmen. Their posture alone revealed what they were—soldiers. Loyal men who knew how to kill without hesitation.

Both were armed.

And leaning against the rear door of the car as though he owned not only the vehicle but the entire city surrounding it was a man whose reputation was built on blood.

Gregori Petrov, My cousin. The Bratva leader of Detroit.

Gregori straightened slightly when he saw me approaching, pushing himself away from the car door with the lazy confidence of a man who had never needed to rush for anything in his life. His sharp gray eyes studied me carefully as I crossed the street, taking in every detail from the length of my hair to the lines prison had carved into my face.

For several seconds he said nothing.

Then a slow, amused smirk curved across his lips.

“Well,” he said calmly, his voice smooth and controlled. “You look like hell.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it before answering him. The first inhale burned pleasantly in my lungs, the smoke curling upward into the cold morning air as I exhaled.

“Five years in prison tends to do that to a man.”

Gregori chuckled quietly at my response, the sound low and entertained as he opened the rear door of the Rolls-Royce.

“You should be dead, Sin.”

I shrugged slightly. “Not for lack of trying.”

The truth in that statement did not need explanation.

Prison had never been designed for men like me.

I slid into the back seat of the car, the soft leather beneath me a luxury I had nearly forgotten existed. The door closed with a quiet click behind me, sealing the outside world away and replacing it with the comfortable silence of wealth and power.

Gregori followed me inside, settling into the seat across from me while the driver pulled smoothly away from the curb.

For a few moments neither of us spoke.

The city outside the tinted windows moved slowly past as Detroit woke beneath a dull gray sky.

Gregori leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees while studying my face with a calculating expression.

Then he said the one thing I had known would come eventually. “You still have not told me the truth.”

My jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Gregori noticed.

Of course he did.

His gaze sharpened with interest as he continued.

“You took the fall for kidnapping a seventeen-year-old girl,” he said quietly. “And seducing her.”

Silence settled inside the car.

The accusation had never sounded believable to anyone who actually knew me.

The Rolls-Royce merged into traffic, the city moving around us while rain began to fall lightly against the windows.

Gregori leaned back in his seat slowly, watching me with narrowed eyes. “You expect me to believe that story?”

I did not answer immediately.

Instead I turned my head slightly and watched the rain slide across the glass, the droplets blurring the passing buildings outside into distorted reflections of light and shadow.

Five years…

Five years had passed, yet the memory remained as vivid as the moment it happened.

A girl with long silver hair.

Fear in her innocent young eyes.

And the moment she climbed onto my motorcycle as if I were the only thing standing between her and death.

I took a slow drag from my cigarette before finally speaking. “You want the truth?”

Gregori's eyes darkened slightly. “Yes.”

I exhaled the smoke slowly into the dim interior of the car. “Well... It started with a girl running through the rain five years ago.”

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*** Five Years Earlier ***

The engine of my motorcycle rumbled powerfully beneath me as I brought it to a stop at the red traffic light.

Detroit was never truly quiet, but nights like this came close.

Rain fell steadily from the dark sky above, covering the streets in a thin shimmering layer that reflected the neon lights of nearby bars and broken street signs. The entire city seemed to glow in distorted colors—red, blue, and sickly yellow spreading across the wet pavement like stains.

I had just finished a job for Gregori.

Three men who would never see the morning.

Just another ordinary night.

I rested one boot casually on the pavement while the motorcycle idled beneath me, the low vibration traveling through the machine and into my body like a familiar heartbeat.

Then I noticed movement at the far end of the street.

Someone was running.

At first I paid little attention. Detroit streets were full of desperate people running from one problem or another.

But then I saw her clearly beneath the flickering streetlight.

A girl.

She was barefoot.

Her long silver hair clung to her face and shoulders, soaked completely by the rain. The thin white dress she wore was streaked with dirt and torn fabric, as though she had been running through places no one should ever have to crawl through.

And she kept looking over her shoulder.

Like something was chasing her.

My first instinct was to look away, beacuse people like me did not get involved in problems that did not belong to us and that was how men survived in this world.

However, before I could return my attention to the traffic light, the girl suddenly changed direction.

She ran straight toward me.

I frowned slightly, confused by the strange choice.

Then she reached me before I could react, her trembling hand grabbed my arm. Her fingers were cold. Shaking.

I turned my head and looked down at her properly for the first time.

And then I saw her eyes.

Blue… The clearest, most startling shade of blue I had ever seen.

And they were filled with terror.

“Please,” she gasped breathlessly. “Help me.”

Her voice broke slightly on the final word.

I opened my mouth to tell her that she had chosen the wrong man for help but before the words could leave my lips, she climbed onto the back of my motorcycle.

Just like that.

As though she trusted me completely.

As though I were the safest place in the world.

Her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her body trembling against my back from exhaustion and cold.

And that was when I heard the engines. Three vehicles turning onto the street behind us.

I glanced briefly into my side mirror. Three black SUVs. The kind of cars men used when they were not planning to ask polite questions.

I sighed quietly.

Wonderful.

“Kid,” I muttered under my breath. “You just ruined my night.”

The traffic light turned green so I twisted the throttle and the motorcycle roared forward like a beast finally unleashed.

The girl tightened her grip around me as the wind tore through the rain and the city blurred past us in streaks of neon light and dark shadows.

Behind us the SUVs accelerated immediately.

They were chasing us.

And I cursed silently under my breath because the situation had become far more complicated than it needed to be.

Ordinarily I would have simply pulled out a gun and handled the problem quickly. But the young girl clinging to my back made that option impossible.

So, instead I drove faster.

The motorcycle weaved through traffic with practiced precision, slipping between cars and cutting down narrow streets while the engines of the pursuing SUVs echoed behind us like angry thunder.

The girl buried her face against my back as the chase continued through the rain-soaked city.

Eventually I turned sharply down an empty industrial road that few people ever used at night.

The large metal doors of an abandoned garage stood ahead.

This is a place only a handful of men knew about.

My private space… The place where I stored weapons and repaired my motorcycle when necessary.

I guided the bike inside quickly before the doors closed behind us.

Silence returned almost immediately.

The girl slowly released her hold on me as the engine died.

For several seconds neither of us spoke. Then I removed my helmet and glanced back at her.

I watch how she was shivering violently from the cold. Rainwater dripped from her silver hair onto the concrete floor as she looked around the garage with wide, uncertain eyes.

I climbed off the motorcycle and studied her with mild irritation.

Why exactly was I doing this? Damn it!

The question lingered lazily in the back of my mind.

“Your clothes are soaked,” I said eventually. “There are dry clothes inside. You can shower there if you want.”

She nodded quietly and followed me as I walked toward the small living space connected to the garage.

It struck me as strange that she did not seem afraid.

Most people were, but this girl simply followed me with silent trust.

Perhaps that was why I made the first mistake of that night. I allowed her inside. And I had no idea that decision would destroy the next five years of my life.

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