CHAPTER 5

Nikolai Volkov 

Power wasn’t given. It was taken. Earned through blood, fear, and ruthless decisions.

I had learned that lesson early in life, watching my father build an empire from nothing but brutality and intelligence. He had no patience for weakness. No tolerance for mistakes. And he made sure I understood that if I wanted to survive—if I wanted to rule—I had to be worse than my enemies.

Now, as I stood in my office, overlooking the city I controlled from the shadows, I knew I had succeeded.

The skyline of Los Angeles stretched before me, an ocean of lights and opportunities. A kingdom built on financial schemes, underground dealings, and the silent threats that kept my competitors in line.

This city didn’t belong to the politicians or the businessmen who thought they ran it. It belonged to me.

And yet, for the first time in years, my mind wasn’t consumed by business.

It was consumed by her.

Alessia Moretti.

The woman I had wanted for as long as I could remember. The woman who now wore my ring.

She thought this was just a deal. A temporary arrangement. A means to an end.

She was wrong.

I never let go of what was mine.

And she had been mine from the moment I decided she would be.

A sharp knock pulled me from my thoughts.

“Enter.”

The door swung open, and Zayn Lancaster stepped inside.

My second-in-command. My best friend. My only friend.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, his dark blond hair slightly disheveled, Zayn had the look of a man who had just returned from doing something illegal. Knowing him, he probably had.

He smirked as he took a seat across from me, his usual air of amusement barely hiding the sharpness in his gaze. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

I didn’t react. “Did you handle the shipment?”

He exhaled dramatically. “Ah, straight to business. Not even a little celebration for your upcoming wedding?”

I stared at him.

He grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Shipment’s taken care of. The docks were clear. We moved everything without a hitch.”

Good.

That meant our latest supply of weapons had arrived safely.

The legitimate side of my business—Volkov Financial—was just a mask. A distraction. The real power came from what lay beneath the surface. Arms dealing. Money laundering. Controlling the black market trade that flowed through this city like a bloodstream.

And no one made a move without my permission.

Zayn leaned back, watching me. “So… Alessia.”

I clenched my jaw. “What about her?”

He smirked. “You’re really going through with this?”

I met his gaze. “You think I would’ve made the deal if I wasn’t serious?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re serious. I just can’t tell if this is about her or about making sure Dante Moretti owes you in a way he can’t ever escape.”

It was both.

Dante Moretti had been my father’s greatest rival before the armistice. Now, he was an aging man desperately trying to hold onto power. Marrying his daughter solidified my position—made it clear that the Volkovs weren’t just dominant in the streets, but in bloodlines.

But it wasn’t just about power.

It was about her.

I had spent years watching Alessia from the sidelines. Watching her grow into the woman she was now—brilliant, sharp-tongued, and completely unaware of how deeply she had embedded herself into my thoughts.

And now, she was mine.

Even if she hated me for it.

Zayn studied me. “You know she’s going to fight you at every turn, right?”

I smirked. “I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.”

He laughed. “You’re fucked, man.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Tell me about the Barros situation.”

Zayn’s amusement faded, replaced by something colder.

“They made another move last night.”

My grip on the glass in my hand tightened. “Where?”

“Downtown. One of our clubs.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They weren’t subtle. Three of our men got jumped. One of them is in critical condition.”

I placed my glass down with controlled precision.

The Barros cartel had been testing my patience for months now. Pushing boundaries, trying to encroach on my territory.

They had just made their biggest mistake.

Zayn sighed. “You want me to handle it?”

“No.” I leaned forward. “I want to send a message.”

His lips curled. “Loud and clear?”

I nodded.

Loud and clear meant bodies. Meant blood. Meant ensuring that no one dared to question who ruled this city.

Zayn grinned, already anticipating the violence. “Consider it done.”

I exhaled slowly, my mind already shifting to the logistics of our next move.

“Anything else?” I asked.

Zayn hesitated. “Yeah. There’s… something you should see.”

I arched a brow. “Go on.”

He pulled out his phone and tossed it onto my desk.

I glanced down at the screen.

And froze.

It was a photograph. A grainy, surveillance-style image.

Of Alessia.

At a café. Alone.

Being watched.

I lifted my gaze to Zayn, my blood turning ice-cold. “Where did you get this?”

He exhaled. “One of our guys picked it up on the black market forums this morning. Someone was selling intel on her.”

Rage burned through my veins.

“Who?” I demanded.

Zayn shook his head. “Haven’t traced it yet. But whoever it is, they know she’s important to you.”

A dark, primal fury settled deep in my chest.

Alessia wasn’t just a bargaining chip. She wasn’t just a Moretti.

She was mine.

And someone had just signed their own death warrant.

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.

Zayn watched me carefully. “What’s the move?”

I clenched my fists, inhaling deeply before speaking.

“Find out who it is.” My voice was steel. “And end them.”

Zayn nodded. No hesitation. No questions.

He knew what it meant when I gave an order like that.

This wasn’t just business. This was personal.

I picked up my phone, dialing a number.

A gruff voice answered. “Yes, boss?”

“Double her security,” I said. “I want eyes on her at all times.”

A pause. Then, “Understood.”

I ended the call and exhaled slowly.

Zayn leaned back, studying me with a knowing look. “You’re in deep, man.”

I met his gaze, unflinching.

“She’s mine, Zayn.”

His lips quirked. “Yeah. I got that part.”

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, he pushed himself up. “I’ll take care of the Barros situation. And I’ll find the bastard who thought it was a good idea to put a target on your girl.”

I nodded once. “Make it hurt.”

He smirked. “Always.”

As he left, I turned back to the window, staring at the city below.

Whoever had tried to come after Alessia had made a grave mistake.

They didn’t just threaten her.

They threatened me.

And the last person who had done that was buried six feet under