I tut, cupping his saggy face before giving it a condescending pat. “Not everything. Only your reasons for living. Maybe you will die with no regrets.”
“JUST KILL ME!” He shouts, slamming his fists down on the desk with so much force it rattles everything. His emotions boil over, getting the better of him as he sobs. “Please.”
I snatch his throat, the blood in my hands smearing across his skin. He’s marked with the essence of his fallen empire, every death marred into his flesh and buried deep in his bones. I want his last memories to be of sorrow and pain.
I want him to hurt.
The same way I have for the pastsix years.
I place my other hand at the top of his head as he closes his eyes and embraces the end. His breaths slow, almost reverent—like he thinks this is mercy.
“You think this is balance?” I whisper cruelly. “You think this will wash away the blood of the innocent on your hands?” His face screws up in pain as his hands lift to grab my wrists, but I don’t let him get that far. “Look at me!” I command.
His eyelids fly open, fear and terror clawing away at him.
“I want you to see the last thing they saw,” I whisper before a delusional chuckle tumbles past my lips. “Long live the Sokolovs,“ I taunt before my hands move in a precise, sharp movement, snapping his neck with a loud crack.
In an instant, he slumps forward, his head sliding against the desk with a slap. The sounds are muted until there’s nothing but the quiet embrace of death. The tension that once held me in my younger years has long gone, creating peace in this art form now.
I rest my head back against my shoulders, closing my eyes as I finally let the meaning of all my hard work come to terms. Melody materializes behind my eyelids, soft golden curls bouncing in the warm sunlight. Her dusky mouth curves into a soft smile as she stares at me with amusement. In these visions, she’s surrounded by a halo of light, her edges glowing so brightly that she’s forever marked as an angel in my eyes.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Even the memory I have of her that night, fear blowing her pupils as tears tracked down her cheeks, she’s still perfect. She looked at me like I was a creature rather than a man irrevocably in love with her.
Little did she know that she couldn’t escape the demons of her past. Not when that very demon will be seeing her in time for Christmas.
Chapter thirty-nine
Kaden
Istalkthroughoneofthe high-end strip clubs that Ivan has labeled as his main office. Neon lights glow across the ceiling, illuminating the dancers as they grind on the metal poles making up the stage. Men who have paid a pretty penny just to get in crowd around the main event, hefty bills being tossed at the women like they’re surrounded by shark-infested waters. Some pop-techno remix booms through the speakers, the bass making my chest rattle.
The VIP lounge consists of a few of Ivan’s enforcers. They’re crammed into a booth, strippers with massive bared tits sitting in their laps as they drink and converse. One of the guys, Simeon, notices me first. His eyes dart to the bag in my hand as he waves me over.
“Smerti!“ He greets over the music. “Care to join us? We have plenty of whiskey for you.”
“Not tonight,” I sniff, holding up the bag. “I’m working.”
Another guy, Jeremy, the youngest of us and brimming with excitement, laughs. “You’re going to have withdrawals. Take a bottle to go.” He pinches the side of the woman on his lap, making her giggle as she rubs a hand through the collar of his shirt. “Or take Anya. I don’t mind sharing.”
The woman looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes trailing down to my blood-soaked boots. “Hi,Smerti.“ She greets seductively with a bite to her plump bottom lip.
“I’ll pass,” I dismiss rudely. “Is the boss in?”
“Upstairs,” Simeon nods his chin toward the back of the club.
I turn on my heel, leaving them to their evening of debauchery as I scale the steps. Every footfall brings me closer, and the sound tunnels around me. My heart pounds in my ears as I near the office.
Saint is already stationed outside with another guard, smirking as he opens the door for me. “Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck,” I mutter as I step inside, and he closes us in the dim lighting of Ivan’s domain.
The office is quaint enough with a soundproof barrier that eradicates the noise of the club. The Pahkan is seated behind his desk, a mountain of paperwork overcrowding the surface as he works diligently to keep his multitude of businesses in order.
We’ve all grown over the years, but Ivan’s transformation takes the cake. He’s no longer the easy, charming man he used to be. He’s been replaced by someone hardened by the underworld and a beast who doesn’t take no for an answer. His name invokes fear in his enemies, leaving a lasting impression.
But I’ve never been afraid of him. It’s hard to be when you’re conditioned and trained to be the very reason he’s considered the overlord of organized crime. Without me or Saint, he might as well just be another Pahkan lost to the system.
