All Chapters of Crave The Enemy : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

NICO“Do you see that, Aleksander?” The Pakhan's voice slices through the room, laced with venom that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “This boy you’ve been frolicking with has been using you to funnel information to his father. Now, most of our partners in Greece have cut ties, shipments have been stalled, and contracts have been voided. And now, my empire is fucking ruined.” The Pakhan says it through clenched teeth, each word landing like a hammer blow. I can see the veins bulging in his neck, the way his fist tightens around the folder until the leather creaks in protest.Sasha, I can…” I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat like shards of glass.“His name,” the Pakhan cuts in, eyes narrowing, “is Aleksander.”“Sasha, I mean, Aleksander,” I correct myself, the name tasting foreign and formal on my lips. “I promise you, this was from before. I stopped giving them information a long time ago.” My voice wavers, but I force the words out, pleading with my eyes for h

NICOThe club reeks of sweat, blood and cheap liquor, the air thick with the roar of the crowd and the connecting of fists on flesh.I had no idea that the Iron Veil was a fight club. What would Sasha be doing in a fight club? I shove through the crowd, making my way to the back where Aiden texted me that the bathroom was. My heart thuds like a war drum as millions of scenarios play out in my head. I hope I'm not too late.I slam open the door to the men's room, the stench of piss hitting me like a punch, but that's not what I focus on. It's Sasha's frame, slumped against grimy tiles, his head lolling to one side and a fresh cut weeps from his wrist.My knees nearly buckle. I cross the distance in long strides and crouch to hold Sasha, completely ignoring the guy who I assume is Aiden by the side. Sasha's knuckles are bruised which tells me that he had been fighting. “Sasha. Wake up. Please, baby, wake up.”I tap his face but all that does is make his head loll to the other side. He

SASHASvetlana. The name detonates in my gut and makes me want to throw up whatever is left in there. Memories assault me, screaming, begging, sweat, the pungent smell of piss. Aiden shuts his eyes for a moment as if trying to reign in his rage. He remembers, in fact I think he had it worse than me.I know not to protest, I did it last time and it only worsened her ‘methods’. I exhale and try to ignore the tremors in my fingers.Aiden inches closer, as if being careful not to trigger me, “Sasha," he murmurs, I already know what he wants to suggest, and it's not possible. “Svetlana… she's a last resort, We can Stall, you can refuse to go there.” “No,” I grit out. “We both know how that ended the last time, I'm not going for a repeat.” Aiden glares at me, he knows fully well that I could try and fail, but he's the type that keeps trying, I know when to give up, on most cases.

NICOThe flight back to Naples was a blur. I stared out the window at the endless blue, willing it to swallow me whole. But the plane touched down anyway, depositing me into the viper’s nest I'd fled not so long ago.The estate loomed at the end of the driveway—Giuseppe's kingdom, built on blood and betrayal. And now, mine to inherit. Today’s events are gonna piss me off, I’m sure of that.The gravel crunched under my boot as I stepped back, the enforcers flanking me instantly. Their eyes said what their mouths couldn't—the prodigal son.I straightened my jacket, the silk lining chafing against the fresh tattoo on my ribs; a Vescari crest that Giuseppe demanded because I would soon be the leader.“Domenico.” Giuseppe’s voice cuts through the courtyard, laced with the false warmth he tries—and fails—to show the world. He stands at the palazzo steps, his silver hair slicked back and his suit tailored to hide the mon

SASHAChapter 50 – Sasha’s POVI Get ItThe session ends with a low whimper escaping my lips. The room spins as I try to make out her silhouette. My body aches like a war was waged on it.The word for it is physiotherapy but nah, what Sorellina does should be illegal.No, not should be—it is illegal.Her mask lies on the tray table while she stands near the lamp.She’s changed the tulle skirt for black leggings and an oversized sweater that swallows her. She busies herself with the tools: a syringe, a note that I have no idea what she writes in it or why she even has it. But something I’ve come to notice is the way her shoulders sag when she thinks I’m not watching.“Why the mask?” The question slips out before I can stop myself. I sit up straighter, the chair creaking under me. “All these years, you’ve been doing this. We both know you’re not doing it for the money. So why do you do it?”She freezes mid-note, her pen hovering over the paper. For a beat the room is silent. She doesn't