The tools laid out across it were clean and organized, each one positioned with purpose. I picked up a knife, not the largest, not meant to intimidate, just sharp, balanced, and made for this kind of work.
When I turned back to him, I let him see it, let the understanding settle in without needing to explain what was going to happen.
“My associates went easy on you,” I said idly. “I won’t be so merciful. I’m going to ask you one more time.” Istepped closer, my voice steady and even.
“And this is the last time you’ll have the option of answering with your voice.”
His breathing changed then, turning shallow anduneven, his chest rising faster as the reality of that sank in. “You don’t understand,” he rasped.
I leaned in slightly, close enough that he didn’t have to strain to hear me. “I understand perfectly,” I said. Then, without shifting my tone, I asked again, “Who ordered the hit?”
His gaze dropped for the briefest moment before snapping back to me. “They’ll kill me,” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of it.
I studied him for a second then leaned down, my mouth right next to his ear and whispered, “I’m going to do worse.”
That was what broke him. Not all at once or in some dramatic collapse but enough that the resistance gave way and something real pushed through.
He knew what I was capable of, that I’d make the torture last for days before finally killing him.
“Rossi,” he choked out.
“It came from Rossi…”
The name settled heavily between us. I straightened slightly, adjusting my grip on the knife as I watched him. “Which one?”
“I don’t know,” he rushed out, panic taking over now. “I swear to you, I don’t know.”
I held his gaze, measuring the truth in it. Hebelieved that, but it didn’t mean it was a good enough answer.
“I didn’t see. I only heard the orders—” A trail of blood-laced saliva trailed from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.
Rossi was involved, and it changed everything. Then I finished him, sliding the blade along his neck from ear to ear. He spasmed, his mouth gaping open, death sounds leaving his throat. He jerked in his restraints, but there was only one end for him. Blood never meant anything but an end result to me. It was just part of the process. Part of what and who I was.
When I opened the door, my men were waiting outside. They straightened immediately, waiting for orders.
“Dispose of him,” I said.
“Da.” They both said in unison.
I stepped past them without another glance, already moving forward. If the Rossi family was in on this hit, then they’d crossed so many fucking lines that there was no going back.
And whatever came next wasn’t going to be civilized.
It was going to be war.
Chapter Two
Alexei
The tension in the meeting room was enough to strangle a person. It wasn’t something you could see or touch, but it pressed in just the same, settling into the space among everyone seated at the table.
My father Mikhail Drakovich sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed in a way that meant absolutely nothing. There was no ease in him, not when business like this was at stake.
Viktor, my father’s brother, sat to his right, his expression tight, his focus already locked on me like he’d been waiting for confirmation of something he didn’t want to be right about. Father leaned back in his chair across from him, one arm draped over theside, but there was nothing casual about the way he watched me.
“Talk,” he said, addressing me.
“The hit wasn’t random,” I said, my voice steady as I held his gaze. “It was coordinated and precise, and it was aimed directly at us. At our supply.”
