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She can’t be older than eight or nine.

Thin straps cling to her small shoulders, leaving too much skin bare in a room filled with predators.

She should be dressed in something soft, warm, and safe.

The little girl keeps tugging at the hem of the ridiculous dress, and when Bastien swats at her hands, she jerks again, her fear sending a blast of dark energy through the air.

Rage pours into my chest, building and building like a volcano that’s ready to erupt and destroy everything in its path.

Bastien’s eyes fall on me, and his mouth curves into a smug smile. Like many times before, I get the feeling he knows how much I hate him, and he loves it.

“There you are,” he drawls, his accent heavy. Lifting his tumbler of vodka, his smile widens. “My wolf.”

The words scrape over my skin, making me feel even more aggravated.

For a moment, I indulge in the fantasy of lunging forward and snapping the fucker’s neck.

Instead of living out the dream, I stop at the edge of the booth, forcing my expression to remain unreadable and my hands to remain still.

The girl coughs, drawing my attention back to her for a split second.

“Do you like her?” Bastien asks as he tightens his arm around her shoulders. “She’s a gift from Andrei.”

Andrei fucking Nikitin. Another man who I hate with a burning passion. Just hearing the flesh peddler’s name fills me with disgust.

I keep my mouth shut and give Bastien an impatient look so he’ll get down to business.

There’s a flash of annoyance on his face as he says, “You’re too serious, Wolf. When did you last get laid?”

Turning around, I begin to walk away, but one of Bastien’s goons moves in front of the stairs, blocking my way.

Not giving a flying fuck, I kick the idiot in his gut. He staggers backward before losing his footing and tumbling down the stairs.

It sets all the other guards in motion, and as two come at me, the first swings wide. I move forward, blocking the nearest one’s blow with my left arm while driving my right elbow into his throat. He gags as he folds in half, and my attention snaps to the second man while he adjusts his footing. I grab the fucker by the lapel, yank him forward, and slam my forehead into his face. The sound of bone cracking is sharp in the air, and as he pulls out his gun, I disarm him and twist the slide free in one motion, letting the pieces clatter to the floor.

Shoving the guard into the wall to our right, I deliver a punch that has him sliding down until he’s sitting flat on his ass, unconscious.

Two more rush at me at the same time. I catch the first by his jacket and rip it over his head, blinding him. I drive my knee into his ribs before slamming my fist down on the base of his skull. As he drops, the other one swings low and fast, but I pivot, trap his arm with my left, and twist it until the shoulder pops with a wet crack.

A fifth comes at me with his gun already drawn, and as he trains the barrel on me, I grab his wrist and twist while wrenching it loose. I release the magazine and fling the useless metal behind me before smashing my fist into his jaw.

“Enough!” Bastien shouts, holding his hand up to stop the other guards from coming at me. “You’re a bunch of fucking idiots thinking you can take on my wolf.” Slowly, Bastien claps his hands, applauding me as he rises to his feet. “The guards seem to have forgotten who you are, and they will be dealt with.”

Just wanting to leave, I growl, “Name of the target.”

“Iosef Nikitin.” He gives me my next job. “I like the guy, so . . .” He sucks in a deep breath. “. . . make it quick.”

I knew it was only a matter of time before the fuckers turned on each other.

When I first got a job at this club, it was to clean the floors and restrooms. I watched the servers, bartenders, and DJs, trying to learn all their jobs so I could move up in the world.

But instead, I got promoted from cleaning shit in toilets to cleaning shit off the streets.

At first, I told myself I was ridding humanity of drug dealers, predators, and evil motherfuckers like Bastien Tarasov, but as the years passed, it became . . . life.

Now it’s all I do. Over time, blood and death have drowned my dreams for a better future.

I have millions stashed away in various Swiss bank accounts, but I live a simple life. One where I don’t attract attention to myself.