Chapter One
Dmitriy Fedulov glanceddown at his cell phone and gritted his teeth.Nikolai Gnesin was pushing on his last nerve.If he wasn’t careful, all the soldiers and people that followed him would turn on him, as he now wanted the Thompsons completely annihilated.In the last six months, that would be the fifth family his boss wanted eradicated.This started with the Babkins.
He was no stranger to death or to killing.It was his job.For as long as he could remember, he had killed.He had killed his own parents, but they had been sick fucks and deserved every ounce of pain.There were rumors he was a man who could not feel pain.That he had no feelings.He was worse than the Devil, because at least the Devil showed mercy.
Up until six months ago, Dmitriy had never shown any kind of mercy.He was told who to kill, and that was exactly what he did.He killed without mercy and without remorse.He got the job done.
That all changed when he was given the order to remove the Babkins.There was nothing special about the Babkin family.They were quite large, and when it was annihilation, that meant from the head of the family down to the child.Again, it didn’t bother him to do just that.Only, there was a tiny detail he had never told anyone.
Anastasia Babkin.
She was nothing special, at least he hadn’t thought so.A few years ago, he had seen her at a few parties.She didn’t mingle and stood in her own little corner, trying to be as invisible as possible, which made her different to other women her age.At the time, she had been eighteen, and she wasn’t eighteen anymore.
Rumor had it she embarrassed her father and as a result, she was cast out.One day, she simply stopped coming to parties, or even appearing as a family member.For all intents and purposes, she was an outcast.
He shouldn’t have been curious.In fact, he shouldn’t have even cared.Nothing involved with the Gnesin Bratva was his business.It was as simple as that.
Only, he hadn’t let it go.
Instead, he had gone looking for Anastasia.What he discovered had surprised him.She wasn’t living on the streets, but surviving.She had gotten a nine-to-five job at a local artisan supermarket, and in her free time worked at a kennel.She had a small apartment, nothing flashy, and she didn’t have a constant stream of boyfriends.Anastasia had left the life, and Dmitriy found it peaceful to just sit back and watch her.
Then the order had come in.
Death.
He should have killed her.For a few days, if not a whole week, he had wrestled with this decision.He could have left it.Pretended to have killed her, but instead he told Gnesin the job was done, and she was dead.Then he stole her in the night, kidnapped her, took her to one of his secure locations, and told her that her life was in his hands.Since then, he had been taking care of her.He continued to do his job.No one was the wiser.
He didn’t have feelings about anyone.Dmitriy kept expecting the tide to turn, for him to realize the error of his ways, and just get the job done.Kill her.It was what needed to be done.Only, he wasn’t doing it.Far from it.
He liked going home.Anastasia was ...perfect.She was peaceful, and she didn’t make any demands.But there was also the problem that he wanted her.
She was twenty-five years old, had her whole life ahead of her.He could have any woman he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to be with anyone else.There was only one woman he wanted, and it was driving him crazy to be the perfect gentleman.
Gripping his cell phone tightly, he reread the message, which was clear.Another family was on the chopping block, and the one thing he had come to know about Gnesin was if he didn’t get the job done soon, there would be a problem.He would hire amateurs.
Something wasn’t right with Gnesin.People whispered it was drugs.Others said he was going crazy.
The Gnesin Bratva was feared.The members were loyal, and not because he killed them all, and everyone lived in fear.At least, he fucking hoped it wasn’t.
He ran a hand down his face.Something had to be done.At this rate, there wasn’t going to be a Bratva.Taking out bloodlines wiped out generations of people following the Gnesin rule.In the past six months, his wealth had started to deplete.
Dmitriy rarely saw him.Most of his communication was done via cell phone, and right now, it was starting to piss him off.Pulling out his cell phone, he made a response, demanding an audience with Gnesin, and once he did that, he waited one single minute and was surprised not to get a response.There was not going to be any more killing until he talked to Gnesin himself.He was done making the Gnesin Bratva weak.
He glanced around the street, checking to make sure there were no enemies lurking.Even though no one knew who he was, there was no room for error.He was a ghost.
Many in the Bratva feared him because they didn’t know who he was.One moment he was there, another he was not.No one had seen the devil ghost.It always made him smile that people knew his name but didn’t have a clue who he actually was.It made walking amongst them easier.People let their guard down.They figured he was just another soldier, or a Brigadier.Just a rude one.They had no idea who they were dealing with, and he wanted to keep it that way.
****
Dmitriy said she didn’thave to cook, clean, or do any housework.The moment she was removed from her family’s house nearly four years ago, she had been living on her own.No maid, no one to pay her bills.They had removed her from the family with what they thought was nothing, but she had skills.
Anastasia had known there would come a time she would risk it all for freedom.That had come when they tried to marry her off to a fifty-year-old man who had already killed his previous wife, and the man was a pig.Most girls—daughters—did as they were told.It was their duty.The Gnesin Bratva was life.
Not to her.She had wanted freedom since she was ten years old.All she could do was taste it.Crave it.Freedom.
And then, when her father hit her so hard it bruised her eye, swelling it shut, Anastasia had left.She had looked her father in the eye and told him she would slit the throat of her husband.She would make the Babkin name no better than dirt if he forced her to marry a man she could not stand.It had been a standoff.
Her father had been torn between anger and admiration.He, nor her mother, had raised a weakling.She was strong, confident, independent.She refused to bow down to the pressure.There was no way she would balk.
