Chapter 5

The First Blood

The night was too long, because Alexei was thinking of tomorrow.

Brussels, usually loud with music, laughter, and drunken chatter, seemed to hold its breath as Alexei crouched in the alley. The pistol weighed strange in his hand, wet with the sweat of his palm.

In the busy street, a light flickered above the townhouse. Inside, deep in the curtains, the target was waiting.

Lucien’s voice from yesterday rang in his ears: “Politicians are parasites. They drink the city dry, then hide behind the law. Tonight, you will learn to cut one open.”

Alexei’s throat tightened.

He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready.

Yet here he was.

Hours before, in Lucien’s study, the plan had been laid out on how spy and kill the Mayor, Varmeer.

“He's Deputy Minister. Lucien had explained." You followed him yesterday, you saw what happened in there. Do not fail today, boy. Lucien warned Alexei.

“Vasmeer had been selling defense secrets to rivals across the border. Cowardice wrapped in greed. The government won’t touch him—they’re all guilty of the same filth. But I will. And so will you too.”

Alexei had stared at the him. “Me?”

Lucien had leaned closer. “Yes. Your first kill defines you. Hesitate, and you’ll never rise above a starving rat. Strike true, and you become something greater.”

Alexei’s lips had parted. “And if I fail?”

Lucien had smiled then. “Then I’ll clean up your mess. But you won’t fail, Alexei. I’ve seen it in your eyes from yesterday when you followed him.” Be calm, I know a smart one, when I see one.

Now, crouched in the alley, Alexei replayed those words. His heart raced so hard he thought it might give him away.

Through the window, Varmeer sat at a desk, drinking brandy, his head buried in papers. His shadow stretched long across the wall.

Alexei inhaled, trembling. He remembered the training. Move silently. Step where the shadows lie. Kill quickly. No hesitation.

He forced his body forward. In the street. Up the fire escape. His heart thundered louder than his footsteps.

At the window, he paused. His reflection stared back—pale, eyes wild with fear.

He pushed it open and slipped inside this time.

The room smelled of cigars. Varmeer muttered under his breath, oblivious. Papers lay in a desk in front of him—contracts, receipts, files that reeked of corruption.

Alexei crept closer. Each step felt like an earthquake, though the man didn’t turn.

His hand shook as he raised the pistol.

Do it.

The memory of Lucien’s voice pressed on him like a hand around his throat.

Alexei swallowed hard. He tightened his grip.

But the face in his sights blurred. For a moment, it wasn’t Varmeer at all. It was his father. His mother. Innocent eyes staring at him.

His breath caught. His chest hit.

Varmeer shifted in his chair, reaching for the brandy. Alexei froze, a whisper escaping his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled the trigger.

The shot sounded through the night. Varmeer jerked, the glass shattering in his hand, blood blooming from his chest. He gurgled, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing onto the desk.

Silence.

Alexei stood frozen, gun smoking in his hand, breath shaking so violently he thought he might collapse.

The man was dead.

He had done it.

A sound broke the silence—a slow clap from outside.

Alexei spun, raising the gun again, only to find Lucien leaning on the doorframe. His smirk gleamed in the dim light, his eyes shining with dark pride.

“Well done.”

Alexei’s breath hitched. “You… you were here?”

Lucien stepped forward, his shoes silent against the tough rug. “Of course. Did you think I’d let you swim without watching if you drowned?”

Alexei’s chest heaved. He wanted to scream, to cry, to vomit—but instead, he stood there, trembling, the weight and the booming sound of the gun still in his hand.

Lucien reached out, lowering the weapon. His fingers brushed Alexei’s, lingering for a heartbeat too long.

“You hesitated,” Lucien murmured. “But hesitation makes the heart race. And a racing heart makes you alive.” He tilted his head. “How do you feel?”

Alexei’s lips trembled. “sick...” in every part of my existence.

Lucien’s smirk deepened. “Good. That means you’re not a monster yet. But you will be, it's normal thing.”

Alexei’s knees buckled, and he dropped into the chair opposite the corpse. His eyes fixed on the blood pooling from the desk.

Lucien crouched in front of him, his eyes burning into Alexei’s soul. “Look at me.”

Alexei did.

Lucien’s voice was intimate. “You killed a man tonight. Not just for me. Not just for this empire. For yourself. Every kill is a step away from the boy who starved in alleys. Every secret stolen, every rival silenced—you carve yourself into the man you were meant to be.”

Alexei shook his head, whispering, “I didn’t want this.”

Lucien smiled, cruel. “No one ever does. But power doesn’t ask if you want it. It only asks if you’re brave enough to take it.”

Their eyes locked. The silence thickened. For a moment, Alexei thought Lucien might lean closer, might whisper something he wasn’t ready to hear.

Instead, Lucien stood and turned to the corpse. “Take his files. Burn the rest. The world will wake tomorrow believing he died of a heart attack. And you, Alexei…” he paused, looking over his shoulder, “…you will wake as someone new, not like this.”

By dawn, the fire had consumed Varmeer’ townhouse. The news would call it an accident. No one would ask questions.

Back at the mansion, Lucien poured two glasses of whiskey. He slid one on the table to Alexei, who sat pale and hands still trembling.

“To your first kill,” Lucien said, raising his glass.

Alexei stared at the amber. His throat was dry, but he forced it down. The burn scorched his chest, making his eyes water.

Lucien chuckled. “Strong. Like you?”

Alexei’s voice hoarse. “I don’t feel strong.”

“That’s because strength isn’t about how you feel. It’s about what you do. And tonight, you did what most men never could.” Killing someone who owns my trusted friend, his rival.

He reached out to the table, brushing his fingers against Alexei’s hand. The touch was brief.

“You’re mine now, Alexei, not because I saved you from the mob. Not because you live under my roof. But because blood binds tighter than any chain. And tonight, your blood stains the same hands as mine.”

Alexei’s chest tightened. His pulse quickened. He pulled his hand back, but the it lingered.

Lucien sat back, sipping his whiskey with a smirk. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, the real work begins.” Real work! Dirtier than this? He murmured to himself.

Went back to his room, Alexei sat on the bed, staring at his hands.

They were clean. He had scrubbed them raw. But no matter how hard he tried, he still saw the red.

He buried his face in his palms. The image of Varmeer collapsing replayed again and again.

Yet inside the horror, something else stirred.

Lucien’s approval. His smile. The rare softness in his voice when he’d said, “Well done.”

And worst of all, the way it made Alexei’s heart race in a way it never should.

He curled onto the bed, shaking.

He had killed a man.

And yet, part of him wanted Lucien’s hand on his again.

The mansion slept, but Lucien stood on the balcony, smoking, watching the city.

One of his men approached him. “Capo… the boy. He’s dangerous but unstable.”

“Yes. That’s what makes him perfect.”

He flicked the cigarette into the night.

“He’s my weapon now.”

And deep inside, Lucien knew he wanted Alexei to be more than that.

Much more.