They don’t believe me.
They don’t care.
Other staff spill out into the hallways, drawn by the noise. White coats, scrubs, masks tugged down, every face pale in the fluorescent light. They line the hallway, watching me. No one says a word.
No one dares.
My heart almost stops. I know what this looks like. I know how punishments are meted out by enforcers. Bloody. Final. Public enough to send a message.
My lungs burn as I drag in a breath. I need to think. Fast. I need a way out before they drag me somewhere I won’t come back from.
I open my mouth, ready to plead, to bargain, to do anything—
The clinic’s back door slams open again.
The sound cracks like a gunshot.
Every head whips toward it, mine included, just as the chill of night air snakes into the corridor.
A man walks in.
Cropped black hair, posture sharp as a blade. A suit so dark it swallows the dim light. Shoulders squared, stride smooth, aura dangerous. His eyes—God, his eyes—black, bottomless, and cold.
Every soldier around me straightens instantly. Guns lower. Heads dip. Voices drop into a respectful murmur.
“Pakhan.”
“Boss.”
The words ripple through the hall like a current.
My stomach plunges. I don’t need an introduction. I know. Everyone in Chicago knows.
Niko Volkov-Rusnak.
And now his eyes are on me.
Those dark, impossibly scary eyes.
I can’t breathe. My heart slams so loud I’m sure he hears it. This feels like my death sentence dressed in a midnight suit.
I open my mouth, desperate to explain, to beg, to swear my innocence—but no sound comes out. What excuse could save me from him?
He doesn’t speak at first. Just studies me like a puzzle he’s already solved. Then his gaze flicks to one of the enforcers.
“Demyan.” His voice is smooth, deep, final. “Take her.”
My blood runs cold.
“She will answer to me.”
Chapter 2 – Niko
Almost an hour later, I step out of the car and into my estate.
Immediately, my men surround me, a silent wall of protection.
Demyan, my right-hand man, is already waiting in front, bowing in deference.
