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“Now, now,” Aleks taunts, his voice a twisted mockery of concern. “Let’s not get too emotional, shall we? I just came here for a friendly chat with our dear Sophia. Nothing to get all bent out of shape about.”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a sleek, silver cigar case. With a casual flick of his wrist, he selects an expensive-looking cigar and places it between his teeth. One of his henchmen, ever attentive, is quick to produce a lighter and ignite the end, a thin plume of smoke swirling around Aleks’s smirking face. Taking a slow, deliberate puff, he exhales a cloud of smoke that drifts toward the ceiling, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Now, Sophia,” he says, the hint of a threat in his voice, “I’m sure you’re just dying to know whether your dear brother Nilo is still alive or…well, not.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of Nilo, and I can’t help the tremor that runs through me. Swallowing hard, I manage to choke out a response. “What have you done with him?”
Aleks grins wickedly, taking another drag of his cigar. “Oh, that’s for me to know and for you to find out. But let’s just say that his continued well-being might depend on your…cooperation.” Smoke curls up around his sinister grin. “You know, Sophia, I’m rather disappointed. You failed to complete the mission I entrusted to you. I expected better.”
My heart races, my stomach tightening into knots as I try to find my voice. “I… I didn’t have a choice,” I stammer, my eyes darting between Aleks and my best friend, who’s still struggling to catch her breath.
Aleks tilts his head, his grin widening. “Oh, we always have choices, my dear. And now, you’ll have to live with the consequences of yours.”
With a quick wave of his hand, he signals to his henchmen, who immediately grab Wren by the arms and drag her toward the exit. Her eyes widen in panic, and she fights against their grip, but they’re too strong.
“Let her go!” I scream, my desperation and fear making my voice tremble. “Please, don’t hurt her!”
Aleks laughs coldly, puffing on his cigar once more. “She’ll be fine…for now. But I suggest you reconsider your priorities, Sophia. If you don’t want anything to happen to your dear friend or your precious brother, I’d recommend you start playing by my rules.”
Chapter 15
Luka
“FUCKING ALEKS, that mudak, has the balls to open his trash heap right on our doorstep!"
Dimitri's voice cuts through the haze of smoke and low thrum of bass in the VIP lounge of our rooftop bar.
The place is drenched in the scent of expensive cigars and the sweet perfume of hostesses weaving through tables, offering distractions that only the night can promise. Neon lights bathe the area in a seductive glow, reflecting off the glassy surface of the central warm pool where shadows mingle and flirt.
Erik leans back, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes tracking a particularly daring hostess as she bends over to serve a group of high-rollers. Her generous tits proudly on show peeking out from the low-cut top she's wearing.
Erik's gaze lingers a moment longer, appreciating the view, before he coolly redirects his attention back to me.
"Let him try," Eric drawls, sipping on his vodka, ice-cold like his gaze. "This is our turf. He's just a desperate dog marking territory."
I clench my fist around my own glass, whiskey amber under the nightclub's pulsing lights. The music is a mix of deep house and techno, a throbbing heartbeat that mirrors my rising irritation.
"Aleks thinks he's making a statement," I spit out.
Slamming the whiskey back, feeling it burn all the way down. The glass hits the table hard, a sharp clink against the throb of the bass.
"What's our damage?" I take a drag at my cigar before turning my head to Erik, my fists clenching at my sides like I'm ready to start swinging at shadows.
Erik leans in, the dim light catching the hard lines of his face. "Our regulars are sticking around, for now. But that Suka Aleks is pulling every dirty trick. Got famous faces showing up at his place. It's a cheap stunt."
Dimitri slams his fist on the table, making the glasses dance. "Fucking circus is what it is. Since when did we start losing to a clown hiring washed-up actors to fill his beds?"
I scoff, the taste of anger bitter on my tongue. "He thinks he can turn this into a Hollywood playground, huh? Thinks glitz will buy him the throne in this hellhole?"
Erik's smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"Let him play his game. We'll hit him where it hurts. Money talks louder than any B-list celebrity."
"Yeah," Dimitri chimes in, his grin all shark, no charm. “Let’s see how he likes it when his shiny new attractions start turning up at our doorstep, begging for a real taste of the night."
"We need to be smarter," Erik, ever the silent one, nods, his eyes a cold calculation.
"Our new gambling license is in the bag," Erik announces, barely glancing up as a waitress hovers, attempting to refill drinks. A hard stare from him sends her skittering back into the shadows, the message clear: we're not here for the service.
