Get in your room!

VIKTOR POV.

The next morning.

The scent of tobacco and blood lingered in the air as I walked through the halls of my mansion, my mind occupied with the morning’s meeting.

The business was running smoothly—profits were high, shipments were on time, and my enemies remained where they belonged: beneath my boot.

Still, my mood was foul.

I didn’t like distractions. And yet, she had become one.

Anya.

The little defiant pet I hadn’t asked for. The one I should’ve broken by now. But she was still fighting, still pushing at the invisible chains I’d wrapped around her throat. And now, she was using Nikolai to do it.

I had no interest in seeking her out, but I would warn her. She wasn’t going to manipulate him into playing her savior.

My steps slowed as something caught my attention.

One of my soldiers stood at the far railing, his body stiff, his breathing erratic.

It wasn’t his presence that made me stop—it was his posture. The way he hunched forward, head tilted slightly, as if entranced.

Curious, I moved closer, staying in the shadows. My gaze followed his line of sight, and then—

Heat surged beneath my skin, dark and blinding.

Anya.

She stood outside on the terrace, the early morning sun setting her wavy hair ablaze. Emerald eyes stared out into the distance, her lips slightly parted. But it wasn’t her face that had my blood boiling.

It was what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn’t wearing.

A flimsy little dress, so short it barely covered her thighs, so thin the morning breeze made it cling to every curve. A dress that invited eyes, that tempted weak men into sin.

And the bastard before me had taken the bait.

My lips curled in disgust as I watched his hand, moving at a sickening rhythm beneath his belt.

I saw red.

“Naslazhdayesh’sya, sukin syn?” Enjoying yourself, you son of a bitch?

The soldier flinched, his entire body jerking as if struck by lightning. He turned, face paling as his gaze met mine. His mouth opened, stammering useless denials, but I was already moving.

I grabbed him by the throat, slamming his head back against the cold iron railing. He choked, fingers clawing at my wrist, but I squeezed harder, my grip unforgiving.

“Don! Ya... ya ne—” Don! I... I wasn’t—

Crack.

My fist met his face.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The sharp snap of bone breaking echoed through the terrace. His nose exploded in a spray of blood, his whimpers turning into garbled cries. But I wasn’t done.

I drove my knee into his gut, and as he doubled over, I yanked him back up by the hair.

“Ty menya toshnish’, otbros.” You disgust me, filth.

A small gasp made my head snap toward the terrace doors.

Anya. She stood frozen, her fingers gripping the edge of her dress, horror painted across her delicate features.

I could feel her heartbeat quicken, the way her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away.

Foolish.

I dropped the soldier, letting his useless body slump against the railing.

Then, I turned to her.

“V komnatu.” Get in your room.

She didn’t move.

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, each movement laced with silent warning. “Ya ne povtoryayu.” I don’t repeat myself.

Something in my gaze must have shattered her resistance because she turned sharply and hurried back inside.

Good. Now I could deal with the filth before me.

I dragged the soldier by his collar, his weight barely a strain as I hauled him through the halls like a lifeless doll. His weak sobs filled the corridor, mixing with the echoes of my boots against the marble.

When we reached the main hall, I flung him onto the floor. He landed in a pathetic heap, curling in on himself like a beaten dog.

The room fell silent.

My men stood frozen, eyes darting between me and the bloodied disgrace at my feet. Then the doors opened, and in walked Irina.

My grandmother’s sharp gaze swept over the scene, her expression unreadable. Beside her, Isabella clung to her sleeve, looking both intrigued and disturbed.

“Chto zhe takoe proishodit zdes', Viktor?” What on earth is going on here, Viktor?

I ignored her, my focus never leaving the traitorous dog on the floor.

“A spear.”

Then, one of my men scrambled to the weapons display, retrieving a long, steel-tipped spear and handing it to me with trembling hands.

I took it, feeling the cold weight in my palm.

Isabella’s voice broke through the silence. “Viktor… what are you doing?”

I didn’t answer.

I crouched beside the soldier, tilting his bloodied face up to meet mine. His lips trembled, a broken plea spilling forth.

“Don… Pozhaluysta…” Please...

“Ty videl to, chto ne dolzhen byl videt.” You saw what you shouldn’t have seen.*

I pressed the tip of the spear against his eye.

He screamed.

The sound was raw, piercing, filling the hall with the scent of fear and iron. I twisted, slow and merciless, until his pleas turned to garbled, inhuman shrieks. Until there was nothing left but ruined flesh and agony.

When I stood, silence reigned.

Blood dripped from my hand, staining the marble in a deep crimson pool. I turned, facing the gathered men, my voice cold, final.

“Zapomnite eto. Noone touches what belongs to me.” Remember this.

Then, I exhaled, rolling my shoulders back. I had a little pet to deal with.

The blood on my hands was still warm. Thick. Sticky. The scent of iron clung to my skin as I pushed open her door without knocking.

Anya spun around, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of me—my stained knuckles, my cold stare. Fear flickered across her face before she masked it, but I saw it. I always did.

She was tense, bracing herself, but she didn't shrink away. Defiant little thing. Always had been.

I shut the door behind me with a quiet click, the sound final.

“Is this what you wanted?” My voice was low, almost calm, but laced with something dark. I lifted my bloodied hands slightly. “Satisfied now, kukolka?”

She swallowed, eyes darting to the red smears on my skin, but she held my gaze. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said, her voice quieter than before.

I stepped closer, slow, measured. She moved back instinctively, her shoulders hitting the wall. Trapped.

I braced a hand beside her head, tilting my head as I took her in—the way her breath quickened, the way she tried to keep her chin high despite the way her body betrayed her.

“No?” I mused. “You dress like that, stand out there where any man can see you, and expect nothing to happen?”

Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

I reached out, fingers curling under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You knew exactly what you were doing, kukolka.” My thumb brushed over her jaw, slow, deliberate. “Or was that for me? A test, maybe?”

She let out a shaky breath, but there was fire in her eyes. “I’m not playing your games.”

“No?” I leaned in, just enough for her to feel the heat of my breath against her skin. “Then stop trying to twist my brother around your little fingers. Whatever ideas you’re planting in his head—forget them. You think you can use him to run?”

My grip tightened slightly, just enough to make her flinch. “Think again.”

Her pulse beat fast beneath my fingers. “You’re paranoid.”

“No, kukolka.” I bent closer, my lips almost brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m just smarter than you.”

I pulled back abruptly, releasing her. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t speak. I didn't move. I could still feel the warmth of her skin on my fingertips.

She had no idea how much I wanted to break her.

I left her there, slipping out before I did something I’d regret.

Back in my room, I went straight for the small glass bottle on the nightstand. I popped the cap, shook two pills onto my palm, and dry-swallowed them.

The ache behind my eyes was already clawing deeper, an old companion I had long stopped trying to fight.

Control was everything. Weakness was death. And Boris was waiting for me to slip.

I picked up my phone and dialed Yuvi. He answered immediately.

“Boss?”

“Find one of Boris’s men. Make it messy. Leave the body where he’ll see it.” My voice was ice, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “He needs a reminder.”

A pause. Then Yuvi’s voice, dark and amused. “Consider it done.”

As I hung up, my gaze flickered to the old photograph on my desk. My father. My brother.

I wouldn’t make their mistake.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple as the pills began their slow, numbing effect.

No peace. No mercy. Only control.

The security feeds flickered to life as I sat back in my chair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other.

She was in her room. Pacing. Agitated.

She dragged a hand through her hair, muttering something to herself before sinking onto the bed. Her head dropped into her hands, shoulders tense.

I took a slow drag from my cigarette, watching her through the screen.

Something about her was getting under my skin.

I hated it.

She was nothing. Just another piece on the board. A stubborn little captive who needed to learn her place.

And yet… my grip tightened around the glass.

Whatever this was—it was nothing. It had to be nothing.

I returned to my study. I needed to clear my mind, to focus on something other than the chaos swirling around me. I reached into the drawer of my desk and pulled out the bottle of painkillers, my hands shaking slightly as I twisted off the cap.

I hadn’t taken the pills this often before, but the pressure was mounting. I poured two into my palm and swallowed them dry. The bitterness lingered on my tongue, but I didn’t care. I needed to numb the pain, to escape for just a moment.

As I leaned back in my chair, trying to breathe through the haze, the door swung open again. The Consigliere, Vlan, stepped inside.

He was a mid-fifties man, his grey hair neatly combed back, always dressed in a tailored suit that screamed authority.

“Viktor,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

I quickly hid the pill bottle, forcing a smile. “Not at all. I was just… thinking.”

“How was your trip to America?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“It was fine,” he replied, taking a seat across from me. “Business as usual. But I noticed something interesting.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“I saw a beautiful lady with wavy hair in the corridor,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I couldn’t help but sniff, a mixture of pride and irritation swelling inside me. “That was the lady I purchased from the auction.”

Vlan raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Ah, I see. She’s caught your attention.”

I shrugged, trying to dismiss it. “It’s not like that. She’s just… a pet.”

“Be careful, Viktor,” he advised, his tone shifting to something more serious. “You need to keep your emotions in check. This is dangerous for the family. We can’t show weakness.”

“I understand,” I said, though part of me resented the reminder.

He warned. “Keep her close, f**k her everyday if you want to, but keep your guard up. You can’t afford to get too attached.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. I had to maintain control, especially now. As Vlan stood to leave, I sighed.

I had lost control earlier on by punishing that soldier, but it wasn't my fault.