The warehouse was silent except for the sound of his footsteps. Each step echoed like a death knell through the darkness, and every man inside knew it.Dimitri Volkov walked into the organization like he owned it. Because soon enough, he would.He was tall, maybe six feet three, with the kind of presence that made powerful men feel small. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing a sharp jawline covered in carefully groomed stubble. His eyes were the color of ice, cold and calculating, the eyes of someone who had seen death and decided it was his to distribute. He wore an all-black suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, and his movements were fluid, graceful, like a predator moving through territory he knew belonged to him.His hands were in his pockets. Relaxed. Unconcerned. That was the most terrifying thing about him. A man who could walk into enemy territory with his hands in his pockets was a man who had nothing to fear.Dimitri Volkov feared nothing.His men follo
Last Updated : 2026-01-19 Read more