DAMIAN

I'm hunched over the paperwork on my desk skimming over the letters on each page, drinking each information in and growing angrier by the minute.

My fingers fly across the keyboard with burning urgency and in a few seconds, the screen displays the private profile of my previous target; Josie Davis. It includes information about him down to the last place he used his credit cards.

Picking up a red pen lying on the side, I visualize being the Grim Reaper while I strike Josie's name off my list. When I lift my hand, the paper becomes branded with a brown stain on my palm. The fucker’s blood refused to come off after washing.

I chuckle darkly as the memories of his pleas come to mind. Barely minutes after I began our session, he became a wobbly mess with bladder issues.

A puny weakling with a big dick and loud mouth. Useless.

The room brightens up with light from my phone. I look at it with a big frown which deepens further when I see my brother's name. The reason for his call might not be farfetched.

“What is it?” I ask immediately after I pick up the call.

“I've called a thousand times before now and you have been avoiding my calls, Kristoffor. Seemya dolzhna byt' prioritetom.”

If he has to spell out that family should be the priority, then something is about to go awry. I knead the space between my brows, feeling exhausted.

“What. Is. It?” I bite the words out of my mouth taking great care to not lash out at him. I'm wrapped up in too much shit to be beating around the bush.

I hear the click of his tongue on the line before he answers, “How’s the mission going?”

“It's underway,” I reply curtly, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“Good. Wrap it up quickly and make your way back here. We need you handling business.” He presses.

I'm not sure he hears me grit my teeth in anger but if he can, I don't give any fucks at the moment. “I said I'm working on it.”

He damn near explodes into my ear. “Working on it? Do you think that's enough? I don't think you get the whole point here. We're losing ground, Kristoffor. The other families are sensing weakness. What more? I caught wind of plans to overthrow you and although those negodyai have been taken care of, you need to mount your guard.”

My body trembles with rage, fighting the urge to hit the red button and return to my tasks. I made a promise not to go home until I find all of them and pay them in their fucking coin. I'm not about to break away from that vow.

Somehow, I find the rein on my anger. “I understand. I just need you to keep everything under control as you have been doing. I owe you a favor–”

“No, you don't understand. This isn't about favors. You're too far removed from the business. You need to be here, making calls, breaking heads.”

I sigh, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing once more into my back and I feel trapped.

“I’ve got this under control.”

“Bullshit! You are chasing ghosts, Kristoffor. She’s dead, deal with it. Focus on what matters.”

The way he speaks about her so flippantly causes my blood to boil. The pen in my grip bows and snaps in two. “She's not just anyone and you know that!”

“Enough!” He barks. “She's dead. Move. On.” The last words are uttered so silently with vehemence.

I grit my teeth, biting back my retort. I might be the Don of the clan but he is my older brother.

He continues, “We need you to secure our interests. The Morani family is making moves. It'd be better if we begin with strategic moves of our own before they think we're vulnerable. Stop thinking like a soldier and think like a Vozdh’.”

A leader? I scoff. After I bring my enemies to their knees. “I’ll handle it soon.”

“Soon isn't enough. We need concrete results now and we can't afford mistakes. The Seemya is counting on you.”

Then the line goes dead.

My body vibrates with anger. I fling the ruined pen towards the door same time that it opens to reveal one of my men. His face doesn't bear much to decipher, however, his nervous stance gives him away.

“Spit it out,” I order in a grave tone.

He shuffles on his feet nervously. His eyes flit around the room in search of something.

I become irritated with his nonsense. “Look around one more time and I promise you, you'll be palming one of your eyeballs before you exit this room.” I threaten.

He knows I'm not one to back down on my words and that knowledge probably straightens him.

“Th…The man can't be found.” He announces.

I know the exact person he's talking about. Why not? He has been my main target for months. But jumping to conclusions is not my thing.

A possibility crosses my mind just then. What if he had gotten information about me being close to his tail and escaped?

“You don't work with the Seemya just to go into the field and act stupid. If he has escaped, your job is to look for him even to the ends of the fucking earth and bring him to me. Alive!”

He flinches, all the color draining from his face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

I cock my head to the side to regard this fool. “Did you mess up again?” Slowly, I rise to my feet still waiting for his words.

He gives a frantic shake of his head, fear evident in his eyes as his gaze measures the distance between us. “No. B-but, when we got there, we discovered that he was dead. Nicolo is dead, boss.”

After that, he takes two cautious steps back which I think is a wise decision to protect himself from my rage bubbling to the surface like molten lava about to erupt.

“Did you confirm?”

He stretches out his phone towards me. Ignoring the tremors of his hand, I take it to behold the mutilated body of the one I've been seeking for the most.

It's a grotesque image. Instead of repulsion, I'm filled with regret and pain. I hurl the phone against the wall, heave and upturn my desk destroying the content on it.

“Fuck!” I yell, angry at myself. “Fuck it! Fuck this! I was supposed to end that psycho myself, he was meant to die by my hands. Shit! Shit!”

This was not the plan. The plan was for him to go through a slow, torturous suffering that he'd wish for death to come swallow him whole.

“I had everything put in place including the machinery to resuscitate him if his heart stopped halfway through our playtime and the fucker had to blow it up by dying early.”

A slew of profanities that I pay no attention to, leave my mouth as I punch the wall over and over until I hear the sickening crack of my knuckles and blood slides down to my wrist.

That single sound gratifies my anger and it simmers down to a slow boil. I'm breathing hard by the time I'm done.

“Boss?” The voice is almost a squeak. My head turns slowly to the side.

The man is standing off to one corner with eyes wide up to the size of saucers. He looks like a terrified prey who just witnessed an apex predator lose its shit.

“There's one more thing you should know. What you desire is still possible.” He passes me his almost destroyed phone.

The screen is flickering and the moment I see what he wants me to, it trips off. My anger dies down totally as I look at him and a look of understanding passes between us.

He gives a frantic nod of his head and thankfully, his legs do not give out on him as he makes his way out of my office.

I look back at the ruin on the floor not feeling one bit remorseful for it. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number.

The person picks up.

“I need you in my office this instant. Ensure the whole place is tidied and my things are replaced before I get back. I have a playdate.”

LILIANA

It takes four days of drowning in tears and wallowing in the loss of Kyle without solace before I realize that I'm fast becoming more useless than a couch potato. Eating junk or skipping meals altogether – the fastest way to ruin my life.

If Kyle was alive, he would surely crack a joke about my being underweight and I'll throw some chips at him and…

You're doing it again, I berate myself before rising from the bed.

I sigh.

The corners of my eyes are cracked with dried tears and I'm bleary-eyed. I would need to drum it into my subconscious that tears will not bring him back.

Another sigh leaves my lips. Perhaps, taking a drive through town and maybe picking up a few things at the grocery's would help?

Just maybe.

So I freshen up and begin on my way down the stairs where my bodyguard is watching the TV. As soon as I land on the final few steps, he spots me and he pulls himself to his feet.

I nod towards the TV. “Crime Now? Very predictable of you.”

He gives me a curt smile. “Good morning, ma'am. Going somewhere?” He asks as I walk past him to the door.

I turn and force a smile on my face. “I cannot bear one more day holed up in that room anymore. A change of scenery and fresh air would do me some good. Please, don't stop your show on my account.”

He frowns, taking a step closer. “I'm not authorized to let you leave the premises by yourself, ma'am. Let me come along. I can take another car if you want, stay several meters away from you while we walk.”

I shake my head while my lips struggle not to scowl at him. The innocent man is just doing his job. “Thanks but I'll be fine by myself. I promise. If there's a problem, your number is on speed dial.”

He regards me with squinted eyes as though re-evaluating my words in his head. A second later, I see his resolve fall like building blocks knocked over.

He hasn't got so much of a choice.

“If you're not back in a few hours, I'll be on my way to find you. I wouldn't want my head on a stake.”

I see the little pinch in his brows that betray his facade. His fears are valid. After Kyle's body was discovered, it was revealed that the job was done by a brutal enemy. There is no telling what he could do if that person finds his wife.

I shake off the fear of the unknown and try to reassure him that I'll be fine. Soon, I'm in the Porsche which was gifted to me by Kyle on our wedding day, and driving out the gate.

I shudder lightly as I peel out of the estate and onto the main road where the boisterous noise drowns the thoughts in my head.

My windows are halfway down for the breeze to filter in. It instantly calms me, luring me to forget my worries for a while.

It's summer and there's no sign of an incoming storm but I find my teeth chattering again and a slight shudder coursing through me.

I grip the steering wheel tightly, trying to shake off the numbness.

After stopping at the grocery store to get a few things, I drive out and take a narrow but quiet path. It's a road Kyle used to drive through whenever we were out for an evening drive.

My phone rings and I glance at my phone to see it's Theodore.

“Liliana, how are you?” He asks after I pick up, his voice ladened with so much concern.

How about we talk about the fact that I've never stopped crying over my husband and how I packed every one of his belongings so they could be moved to another bedroom because I couldn't bear to see them?

How I lock myself indoors for almost a week with instructions not to be brought food while I ruin myself with sorrowful instant noodles?

Or how I just took a bath after obsessively wearing Kyle's T-shirt for four days?

“I'm… managing,” I say instead. I can't stand another adult fussing over me.

A brief moment of silence falls. It feels too awkward so I break the spell, “Is that all?”

“Oh, no.” He chuckles lightly, probably laughing at his forgetfulness. “I’ve got updates on your husband's properties,” he informs me.

“What is it?” I ask, eyeing the exit of the street as I approach it.

“The proceedings are moving faster than expected,” he explains. I catch the crinkling of paper in the background. He's at the office.

Suddenly, a car comes out of an alley, cutting me off abruptly. I slam on the brakes, my heart racing.

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim in shock. I stick my head out of the car and yell, “Are you trying to get me killed, you asshole?”

“What's that? What’s happening?”

I huff angrily, tucking back the loose tendrils of my hair behind my ear. “Just some idiot who thinks the road is his playground. You know what they say; boys and their toys.”

But the jerk isn't making an efforts to drive. “Move, will ya!” I yell again with a loud honk for effect.

Impatient and angrier, I put my car in reverse and try to back out of there only to see another car parking the same way as the one in front, both blocking my exit.

Doors open and menacing men step out. My heart rate picks up.

“Um, Theo?”

“Liliana, what's happening?” He asks in a panic.

“I don't know,” I inform him as my throat closes up in fear. I struggle to breathe, cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

“Where's Eric? Where's your bodyguard, dammit?” He sounds angry and frantic too. There's a shuffle in the background and a door banging shut.

I look around me for an escape. “I left him at home. I just needed a ride into town alone.”

“You did what? Have you lost your god-damned mind?”

My door opens. “Get out.” The man growls.

I try to resist and scream when large hands and arms wrap around my hand, yanking me out. In blind terror, I swivel and throw a punch to him in the face.

It hurt my fingers like a bitch. “Let me go!”

“Lilia–” Theo's voice is cut off as one of them grabs my AirPod and flings it to the ground, crushing it with his foot.

I drive my knees up, fast and hard, into the crotch of another one holding me. He kneels in pain and my escape route is paved.

One of the men yanks my hair before I can inch forward. I fall back against his chest and he begins to pull me roughly. I kick with all of my might ensuring to give him a tough time.

My efforts are proved useless when another grabs my ankles and lifts me off the ground, I resort to screaming my lungs out.

My head bumps against their car as I'm shoved in which dazes me for a second.

One minute, I open my mouth to scream again, the next, I'm choking violently on a piece of clothing shoved into my mouth.

I bite down on the man's fingers as hard as possible with the intent to break skin and draw blood. I'm like a raging dog and fear is my only drive.

The next second, my head whips to the side as a large hand collides with my cheek. My teeth close down on my tongue and I let out a groan of pain.

My cheek smarts with pain from the hit and now I'm confused about which hurt the most; the slap or my bruised tongue.

I start to cry, terrified for my life.

Is this what it felt like for Kyle when he was being kidnapped?

A piece of cloth is pressed tightly over my nose and one whiff to stop myself from suffocating, I inhale chloroform. In almost the same instant, everything blurs.

The last words I hear before I lose consciousness of the world around me are, “It is done.”

What is done?

I barely have time to process my thoughts when my head lolls back against the seat and darkness consumes me.

DAMIAN

My footsteps echo off the black granite floor polished to a high shine. The cream-colored Venetian plaster walls provide a subtle contrast, while the dark wood trim adds depth and warmth - a far cry from the state of my heart which has now gotten colder than the ice in Antarctica.

I continue through the foyer, my footsteps quiet and in sync with the beat of my heart, descending to the basement where the latest captive is being held.

I feel like I'm at a crossroads. Waiting. The outcome of the next few hours will determine my final decisions; if I return to my duties or if I continue to hunt.

One thing is for sure; I will never rest until I feel peace within me. Else, I don't mind reducing this world to ashes for her. I would go on and on until my feet give out beneath me and my bones find their way out of my skin in exhaustion.

I stop right outside the door where sounds of muffled screams meet my ears. I turn my head this way and that to get rid of the kinks in my shoulders before I place my hands on the heavy doors and shove hard.

I step into the room and immediately, my eyes lock onto the captive woman. Her brunette hair is dishevelled, framing her heart-shaped face.

Her slender nose and mouth shaped like a bow tremble with rage. An angry-looking, purple bruise mars the left side of her cheek. Her clothes are ruffled with the first few buttons missing, exposing a hint of delicate blue lace.

She must have given my men a tough time. Such a vicious lady. The type I love to see come apart under my torture.

Green eyes blaze with defiance as her gaze meets mine. My chest burns hot with impatience to douse the fire in there and crush her spirit.

The same way Stellëza was ruined. Images of how someone with so much vibrance coiled into her shell until she became a shadow chooses now haunt my soul.

I push the image to the back of my mind.

“Remove the tape,” I order to the man standing to her right. He complies, ripping off the duct tape ignoring her pained groan.

The moment she spits out the gag, her eyes flash with a murderous rage. She struggles against the cuffs keeping her hands bound behind her.

She gives up with an exasperated scream. “Let me go, you demented psycho!” She yells followed by a slew of sailor curses and a series of threats tumbling out which end with, “Wait until Theodore gets a hold of you! My family will destroy you!”

The corner of my lips curl upwards in a smug smirk. I'm amused by how someone so small holds such a volcanic explosion within.

“The game hasn't even begun. Your husband would feel your pain in hell by the time we're done playing.”

Hands deep in my pocket, I stroll toward her with the deliberate pace of a predator. Her anger rolls off her in massive waves but I remain calm.

“Do you know Nicolo?” My voice is even as I ask.

She aims her gaze anywhere else that isn't my face and I know right then that she's avoiding the question.

“I do not owe you anything until you release me.”

Daring little thing, I muse as I grasp her chin with my fingers wrapping firmly around it. She struggles against my grip, but her efforts are feeble against it. I drag her face towards mine even though that doesn't deter her from looking somewhere else.

“Where is Kyle then?” I repeat, my voice dropping to a chilling quiet.

Pain slashes across her features as her eyes meet mine. They're burning with rigid stubbornness and more anger. “You're wasting your time.”

“Perhaps,” I chuckle darkly. “But I have plenty to spare.”

She glares so hard that I can see through her eyes how badly she wants to mark my face with daggers.

“You're just a coward hiding behind your goons. Shameless, cowardly piece of trash!” She fires. Her entire body vibrates from the weight of anger coursing through her.

I close my eyes when her spittle lands on my cheek. I give her a smile to show how unfazed I am. “And you're just a pawn, trying to protect a monster.”

Her eyes flash and she pushes on her feet in a pathetic attempt at freeing herself from the chair. Once again, she is unsuccessful.

“Kyle is not a monster, you are! He's ten times the human than you will ever be.” She retorts.

That statement sparks a round of laughter between my men and I. My shoulders shake in amusement.

Like I promised, I have all day.

“Darlin’, I never said I was human, did I?” Her expression cracks for a brief moment when she tries to decipher my words.

She recovers quickly with fresh venom in her words. “Take me back from where you picked me right this instant!”

I take a step closer and lower my head so that our faces are within inches of each other.

“Last chance,” I warn, “Where is your husband, Kyle?”

She gives a lopsided grin. Suddenly, she spits into my eyes. Momentarily, I am blinded by her actions.

It all happens so fast. Just as I open my eyes, a fierce cry leaves her lips. She rears her head back and slams it forward with her forehead crashing into mine. The impact jars my skull.

Bone crunches and pain explodes around my head. Her headbutt is vicious. I can tell it was aimed at breaking my nose.

“Fuck!” I grind out, shaking my head to clear my vision and ease the pain. My fingers fly to my nose to check for crimson flowing.

Nothing.

I glare at her, inches away from wrapping my fingers around her thin neck and wringing it till it snaps.

One of my men lands a punch on her cheek before I give out orders. She yelps out in pain and before I know it, I put a bullet in his head.

He drops dead.

She looks up at me with a sprinkling of blood on the side of her face. I catch the movement of her tongue as it pokes the inside of her mouth, pressing against the injury.

Then, like the roles have been reversed she curls her lips up in a devilish grin while my initial smile is turned upside down.

But that's a facade. The sight of fear is unmistakable as she looks at me.

My vision blurs again yet I go close to her and force a hold on her chin, refusing to be gentle and give her the delusion that I am relinquishing control.

This is my zone.

I see the bruise beginning to form on her forehead even as she smirks at me.

“You're… quite… fierce.” I manage in a strained voice.

She struggles with a firm kick on my shin. My hold tightens so hard that she winces. “Don't bother,” I advise. “You're never getting out of here.”

Her chest heaves. Her breasts rise and fall. That stubborn resoluteness remains on that face. “And you can never break me, I promise you! I will never tell you anything!”

“In that case,” I pull away from her as I straighten my spine. “Let's see what my men have to say about that. I'll know if you'll remain tight-lipped after my men take their turns easing themselves.”

Panic rises in those defiant green eyes but it's too late. She had her chance and she blew it.

“Ti çmend i shqerrë!” She curses in Albanian.

I walk out of the room with a wicked smile on my bruised face. Call me a crazy motherfucker all you want, I'll get back my pound of flesh.