“He’s testing us,” Mikhail chipped in, his voice deep and raucous. “The idiot’s trying to see how far he can go before we react.”
Lucian Sokolov was the leader of a rival syndicate, the Vipers, a ruthless gang feared throughout Chicago. Despitebeing new to the game, this organization had risen in the ranks in the criminal underworld in a short period of time.
Sokolov had made a name for himself, and that pride was starting to get to his head. He was mistaken if he thought he could mess with the Bratva under my watch.
“He’s obviously trying to get your attention; that’s why he’s spreading that rumor,” Andrei said.
My eyebrows shot up, my curiosity piqued. “What rumors?”
“That you’ve taken a woman for yourself,” he answered. “One you intend to marry.”
The room was silent for a moment until a short, humorless laugh escaped my throat. Amused by this news, my lips curved into a mischievous grin. Clearly, Sokolov had no idea who the girl was or why she was taken.
However, the longer I thought about this rumor, the more my smirk slowly faded away. Sokolov had already painted the narrative that the girl in my mansion meant something to me. As crazy as it sounded, the bastard just gave me an idea.
Perhaps, taking the girl as my bride wouldn’t be such a bad thing anyway. She was right when she said she was innocent and that she didn’t deserve to pay for her father’s crimes.
I’d done a little digging and found out that Mercer had been absent for almost her entire life.
This meant that she might hate the man almost as much as I did. There was a slight possibility that Mercer could be a mutual enemy. However, at the end of the day, her father was the one I was after, not her. He might be a pain in the ass, but there was still a part of him that cared deeply about her.
Taking her as my wife would break him in ways he wouldn’t expect. Sokolov already thought it was my plan. So maybe I’d make that a reality—that way, she would belong to me for the rest of her life. This way, I’d kill two birds with one stone.
A crooked smirk played on my lips as I reclined in my chair, fingers stroking my jaw. This was a work in progress, but if I planned it well, I would emerge triumphant in the end.
She would hate me even more—but I couldn’t care less because at least she’d belong to me.
I felt my anticipation building as I basked in the thought of Mercer’s misery when he’d find out. He began this war—but I would be the one to finish it.
***
Later that evening, I stood by the window in my study, a hand in my pocket, my eyes fixed on my little prison. She was wandering the garden, smelling the roses, a soft expression on her face. A few of my most loyal men watched her from a distance, their sharp eyes tracing her every move.
I sipped from my glass, my tie sagging loosely around my neck as I studied her. She looked so harmless, yet beneath that innocence was a fiery young woman—one whose strength pulled me in like steel to a magnet.
The idea of making her mine forever hadn’t stopped replaying in my head since the Bratva meeting. I’d given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that no one else deserved her but me.
This time, it wasn’t just about revenge. It wasn’t only about making Mercer suffer. It was about me and what I wanted. I wanted her, and I was going to have her at any cost.
My eyes darted toward the front gate where a black SUV rolled into the courtyard and pulled over by the fountain. A tall man with gray hair, dressed in the same color of suit, stepped out of the vehicle and headed toward the entrance.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took another sip, recognizing the unexpected visitor. His name was Viktor, and he was Lucian Sokolov’s envoy.
Not long after, I heard a knock on my door.
“Boss,” Sergei called out from behind, his shoes scuffing against the floor. “We have a visitor.”
I turned around to find the gray-haired man standing beside my lieutenant.
“Evening, Mr. Tarasov,” he greeted me, barely holding my gaze.
I didn’t respond, just stared at him with quiet intensity—the kind that unnerved him.
His face paled when he stepped forward and extended a sealed envelope. “A message from Mr. Sokolov.” His voice almost cracked, hinting at the fear he tried to bury.
I hesitated, watching his stretched out hand subtly trembling before I accepted the envelope from him. I set my glass on the table, then tore it open with a flick of my thumb.
The paper was thick, expensive, and when my eyes scanned through the content of the handwritten letter, my expression darkened. Lucian was suggesting a trade in his letter. The bastard had the guts to propose an exchange for the girl. In his letter, he asked me to name my price because he believed she would be better under his care.
