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Chapter 1
Luka
THE BASEMENT is a cold and damp space filled with the stench of fear, and betrayal. Blood seeps from the wounds of the man strapped to the chair in front of me, his body shaking with pain and terror. I pace back and forth, the anger and violence inside me pulsing like a living thing.
“I trusted you, Sergey,” I say, my voice low and menacing. My fingers curl around the grip of the red-hot poker, its searing heat a reflection of the fire within me. The air around it shimmers as if it’s alive with the power of my rage.
“Boss… Please!” Sergey’s voice is choked with pain and desperation. But I am beyond reason, beyond mercy. Betrayal comes with a price, and he’s about to pay it.
“You betrayed me,” I say. My words are a death sentence. “And for that, you will suffer before I kill you.”
I press the hot iron to his chest, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Sergey screams in agony, but I am deaf to his pleas. All that matters is my vengeance, my need for justice.
The shadows in the room seem to grow darker, closing in around us as if drawn by the violence that fills the space. The armed men around me watch in silence, their faces impassive. They know what I am capable of, what I am willing to do to protect what is mine.
Until one steps forward abruptly and rips the poker from my hand, his eyes filled with concern. “You just fucking got out of jail, bratan!” Erik Volkov is the only one brave enough to stand up to me, and he only has that privilege because I count him as one of my closest friends. “Is this really the way you want to spend your first day of freedom?”
I glare at him, my chest heaving. He doesn’t understand the depth of my fury, the need for vengeance that has been driving me for years.
“I’ll stop when he’s suffered enough,” I growl.
But Erik is unflinching. He knows the darkness of my soul, yet he doesn’t cower when facing me, even when my hate is boiling over.
I pivot to confront him, still seething as I glare into his face. He’s a striking contrast to me; fair where I’m dark, his eyes pale gray, while mine are blue. He’s built much like I am, though. Tall, muscled, tattooed…our bodies made to fight. To kill. Like mine, the patterns on his skin are a story of his life. His tell a tale of his loyalty to me and our cause; I remember that now, and it reins in my rage. He has a steadfast courage to champion what is right, even if it pushes me to the brink of wanting to strangle him.
“Go after Aleks,” he says, his voice hard. “That’s where your real anger should be directed.”
I take a step toward him, fists bunched. But he doesn’t back down. He’s been my stand-in for too long, and he knows how to handle me. In that moment, I realize how lucky I am to have him by my side. It doesn’t settle my annoyance, though.
“Don’t you dare mention that name under my roof again, mudak.” I glare at him. He glares right back, completely uncowed.
“It’s not even been twenty-four hours, and you’re already at each other’s throats,” a voice has us swinging our heads to identify the source. The stocky shape of the third member of our triumvirate emerges through the door that leads to the basement. Dimitri Orlov has a frown etched on his face, but I know it isn’t because he’s angry or upset. It’s just how he works.
“Don’t you start on me too, Dimitri,” I growl; it’s a clear warning, but he ignores it.
“I don’t know what started this standoff, but listen to Erik, Luka. You know he’s only one of us who ever makes sense.” Dimitri’s presence floods the room as he enters it. Hardly surprising; at 6’5”, he’s a monster of a man. Calculating blue eyes glitter in a face that might be too pretty if it wasn’t for the scars that mar it. One of the hazards of his job as an enforcer.
“He’s not making sense now,” I mutter. Nearby, I sense Sergey squirming in the bonds holding him to the chair.
“Erik kept the business afloat for four years.” Dimitri doesn’t need to remind me, but of course, he does anyway. “You don’t know how much of a shit show it was when you weren’t here—”
“And you think I was sipping wine in jail?” I snap, not letting him finish. “My father’s body had barely begun to grow cold in the grave before my uncle started plotting with my men to take over. I couldn’t even grieve properly.”
“You shouldn’t dwell in the past, Luka,” Erik says, and I glare at him again.
“What do you know of grief?” I bark.
“Focus on the good,” Erik continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You have a roof over your head and a business to call your own. Everything you see here belongs to you now, bought with the profits of your own business. This is your legacy we’ve been building while you’ve been away, Luka. Aleks can never have a claim to it.”
I stare at him for a moment. “What is this nonsense you’re spewing? I have a legacy already, and it was stolen from me. I will not rest till I have reclaimed the entire Ivankov fortune from that thieving pig. The entire Chicago underworld is mine; that is my legacy. I will not settle for the fucking crumbs that are left over,” I snarl.
Erik shakes his head. “The last time Aleks came at us, you ended up in jail, bratok.”
“You’re not my brother!” I snap.
“Really?” he asks. “Because Dimitri and I shed blood for you, for your legacy. Took bullets that left scars that will never fade. And that was when Aleks had only a fraction of the backing of the entire Ivankov militia. Think about what he’ll do with all that power now,” Erik says.
Dimitri nods in agreement. “But enough of this,” he adds. “You can argue about it later.” He motions for me to follow him. “Erik and I busted our asses to throw you a welcome back party upstairs. I even brought in a pretty blonde to help you break your four-year celibacy streak. She’s waiting now with her pussy ready.” He grimaces. “But instead, you’re here, fucking around with this trash.”
