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CHAPTER1
Kirill
Blood.
Strings of crimson washed over my eyes, the rage becoming uncontrollable.
Wham. Wham.
Wham. Wham. Wham. Wham.
I jerked back, taking deep breaths as I studied the punching bag swinging in a wide arc. I rubbed the sweat from my forehead with my arm, flexing my fingers before fisting them again. Then I issued several brutal punches against the dense piece of stuffed leather, dancing around to the other side then slamming my fists against it several more times.
My hands already ached, but the burning pain also allowed me to feel alive, freed from the ugliness of the dreams that had strangled me with sharp claws for years. I pummeled the bag again, losing count of how many times I’d thrown a brutal punch. Still, it didn’t ease the ache inside or the rage that kept me on edge.
An attack on my men.
Six of them murdered.
The perpetrator still at large.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
Fuck. I walked into the attack like a fucking idiot.
And I’d been one of two left alive.
The hunger for revenge tore through me, the ugliness of it evil and I was out for blood. I could almost taste the coppery sweetness in my mouth.
However, that wasn’t the only reason for my aggression.
I took a step back, stalking toward the bottle of water, almost crushing the thin plastic before I was able to open the cap, guzzling more than half. After splashing some of the frigid liquid in my face, I returned to my task. I was determined to rid myself of the memories, if only for tonight.
Even as I smashed one fist after another, putting all my weight into driving away the demons, the visions kept coming, one bloodstained frame after another. The past was more than just a terrible nightmare.
It had turned me into a monster.
Years had passed, my entire adult life a statement, or perhaps a retelling of what I’d endured as a child, the carnage left behind after a savage attack on innocent families, ripping away all the people I’d loved. The mother who’d nurtured me and a father who’d protected me against the tyranny gone in an instant.
Then there’d been my baby sister, innocence personified.
I could still hear their screams, the wretched sound echoing as much as the barrage of gunfire. Nothing had been able to stop the nightmares. Not liquor. Not women. Not violence. There hadn’t been a single moment of existing that had extinguished the stench of blood or managed to alleviate the damning horror of seeing their vacant eyes. At least I’d been able to use my rage to my advantage, settling scores as necessary.
What I’d yet to be able to accomplish was hunting down the men responsible. That would come. One day I would take everything from the bastards who’d destroyed all that I cared about.
Wham. Wham! Wham!
Only on that day would the nightmares end, at least for the last surviving member of the Sabatin family.
* * *
Candy
Stop. Stop. Stop!
The noise was like bottle rockets going off in my brain. All I’d had to do was get out of the elevator and I’d heard the same thunking noise I’d put up with for several nights in a row. I was working long hours, my legs hurt enough I wasn’t using the stairs, and the jerk making the noise only adding to the misery. I glared from one door to another, also furious no one had bothered to try to get the asshole to stop. Were they all in comas?
When there was a moment of silence, I lifted my middle finger toward the ceiling. Maybe the jerk had heard me. I yanked my keys from my pocket, taking two steps toward the door and…
