SHADOWS OF THE RED STAR AND DOMINANT DERAILMENTS

Luca’s POV

The federal SUV barreled through the upstate backroads, tires kicking up gravel like scattered bones. Chen drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing my thigh—possessive, a reminder of her control. Dante was in a separate vehicle behind us, cuffed and flanked by her tac team, his confession still ringing in my ears: complicit in my parents’ death, tied to Viktor for years. Betrayal layered on betrayal, but the antidote coursing through me—Sofia’s gift—cleared the fog, letting me piece together her deeper KGB training.

Dive deep into it: Sofia’s “residency” was a cover for her immersion in ex-KGB circles. It started in Berlin at 20, after hacking Dad’s ledgers revealed Soviet-era slush funds. She contacted “Uncle Alexei”—real name Aleksei Volkov, a KGB defector who’d gone underground in the ’90s, running a network of old spies from a nondescript warehouse in East Berlin. Alexei saw potential in her grief-fueled rage: a young American with medical access and a vendetta against the Bratva. He trained her rigorously—six months of isolation, learning tradecraft from Cold War manuals.

Mornings: hand-to-hand combat in derelict gyms, where she mastered Systema—fluid strikes, joint locks, using opponents’ force against them. Afternoons: poison labs, synthesizing polonium derivatives and nerve agents from scavenged chemicals, testing on rats (and once, a captured Bratva informant). Evenings: cyber basics predating Enzo’s flashy hacks—KGB-style encryption, dead drops via floppy disks, social engineering to extract confessions. Alexei drilled her in interrogation: waterboarding simulations, psychological breaks using sleep deprivation and hallucinogens. “Children of the enemy are weapons,” he’d say, echoing Viktor’s philosophy but twisting it for her. By the end, Sofia wasn’t just a doctor—she was a ghost operator, capable of infiltrating hospitals for intel, poisoning IVs undetected, and running cutouts through KGB remnants in Moscow. Her connections gave her antidotes like the one in me—nanotech counters sourced from Siberian black sites, triggered by cortisol spikes. It wasn’t revenge; it was resurrection—a new Red Star rising from the ashes of the USSR, with Sofia as its heir.

But why hide it from me? Because I was the “innocent”—her anchor to normalcy, the brother she’d protect by any means. Stress activated the antidote fully now; clarity hit like caffeine. Sofia’s comm in my ear—implanted during the plane touch—whispered: “Luca, Chen’s the derail. Her agenda’s federal takeover. Escape when you can. Enzo’s cyber plot is activating—global hack. Find Dante. Trust no one else.”

Chen glanced at me, her morally gray eyes sharpening. “Quiet back there? Thinking about your mafia boytoy?”

Her dominance intensified from the cabin twist—now laced with federal authority, a badge-backed power play. She pulled off the road into a secluded turnout, killing the engine. The convoy halted behind us; she waved them off. “Perimeter check. Give us five.”

Alone in the SUV, she uncuffed one wrist, yanking me into the back seat. “On your back,” she ordered, voice low and commanding. The erotic tension heightened—her presence a new, derailing force in my MM world, but the dominance was universal, intoxicating. She straddled me, pinning my free hand above my head with hers, the other unzipping my pants. “You submitted so easily before. Do it again. Beg for your fed mistress.”

The twist derailed me further—her hand wrapping my cock, stroking slow and firm, thumb circling the head until I leaked. “Please… ma’am… more.”

She slapped my thigh—hard, stinging—then choked my throat lightly, air controlled. “Louder. Let the team hear if they wander close.”

I begged louder, arching into her grip. She intensified: shedding her jacket, revealing a harness beneath—strapped with a dildo, black and ridged. “Suck it,” she commanded, forcing it into my mouth. I gagged on the silicone, tongue working as she face-fucked me gently at first, then harder—tears streaming, her hand edging my cock to the brink, denying with a pinch.

“Good boy,” she murmured, pulling out. She flipped me onto my stomach, ass up, and spread me—tongue rimming roughly, fingers plunging—three, scissoring brutally. Pain-pleasure spiked; I moaned into the seat.

She positioned the dildo—thrusting in slow, letting me feel every ridge. I cried out; she choked my neck from behind, riding me with punishing rhythm—each snap hitting my prostate. Her free hand jerked me—vise-twist, edging mercilessly: to edge, denial via ball-squeeze. “Hold it. Suffer for your new master.”

Tears flowed; I begged incoherently. Dominance peaked: she bit my back, drawing blood, licking it. “Come now—show me your submission.”

Orgasm tore through—untouched, cum soaking the seat. She didn’t stop—pounding through, her own release a grunt as she ground against the harness base.

She pulled out, zipping up. “That’s your new reality, Marino. Testify, or I make it public—your submissions, all recorded.”

But as she recuffed me, Enzo’s cyber plot activated in my mind—Sofia’s warning. Dive into it: Enzo’s “hidden agenda” wasn’t just consolidation. His Palermo servers hid a global hack: “Operation Eclipse”—quantum worms burrowed into financial systems, ready to crash markets on command. Funded by KGB remnants Sofia had accessed, but Enzo twisted it for personal gain: blackmail world banks, siphon trillions into Sicilian coffers, then blame the Bratva. With Viktor’s “alliance” revealed as a ploy, Enzo’s plot was live—codes dumping from his cloud, timed to coincide with federal raids. If activated, economies collapse, chaos reigns—and Enzo emerges as the savior with “stolen” antidotes.

The convoy rolled on, but stress peaked—the antidote fully countering the remaining toxin. I slipped a cuff—loose from Chen’s haste—and whispered into the comm: “Sofia, where are you?”

Her voice: “En route. KGB ties pulling strings—Alexei’s team inbound. But Chen’s agenda? She’s not just federal. She’s Bratva deep cover. Viktor planted her years ago.”

Chen glanced back, smirking. “Heard that. Your sister’s smart, but slow. My agenda? Total control—for Viktor. The feds are my tool.”

She accelerated, veering off-road. Dante’s vehicle pursued, but gunshots rang—tires bursting.

Chen dragged me from the SUV, into woods. “Time for round two, witness. Submit fully—or die.”

As she pinned me to a tree, dominance intensifying, Dante’s voice echoed: “Luca! Hold on!”

But Chen’s hand choked me silent, her body pressing—derailing me deeper into her web.

Would Sofia’s KGB cavalry arrive? Or was Enzo’s hack the endgame, crashing everything before rescue?