I committed these people to memory and waited. Fifteen minutes later another car pulled up. And exiting from the backseat was a tall dark male with black hair down to his mid-back. My nostrils flared when he turned and his stern face came into view, green eyes looking down at someone else leaving the car.

Him.

The hit.

Zaal Kostava.

Careful not to move, relying on all the years of training, I was as still as the night. But I watched. I saw there were three guards surrounding the car. Then a female was by his side. Blond. Brown eyes. A ring on her left hand.

His wife? His fiancée?

My eyes tracked them walking up stairs and entering the house. The windows were large, and I concentrated on the shadows, tilting my head as I studied the movements.

The guards in the cars continued for the next two hours, men casually dressed in everyday clothes walking in circles around the block, their hands in their pockets—holding on to guns, no doubt.

In two hours I never moved an inch. This was why I was the head assassin, the bringer of death. I never failed. And I never failed in making my victims scream out in pain. Only after they’d screamed at the sight of my disfigured face. I was their every nightmare come to life.

Movement from my left suddenly caught my eye. A figure dressed in all black was approaching the side of the street where I was hidden. I watched with focused eyes, seeing that it was a female.

Her arms were wrapped around her waist, a large hood covering her face. Her steps were quiet as she rushed down the street. I never took my eyes from her as she slipped into the darkness. She wanted to keep concealed from view.

She kept approaching until she stopped, mere feet from me. She didn’t sense me lurking at her back. They never did.

I watched. I watched her breathing increase and heard the heavy exhale leave her mouth. Flakes of snow landed on her black coat, but the female kept completely still.

Her attention was on the house I was stalking. But she made no effort to move. I watched as her hand reached into her pocket. But what I noticed more was that it was shaking.

A photograph was pulled out of her pocket. Just as she lifted it to view, I caught sight of the image—my hit and his female.

The side of my lip curled up in satisfaction. This female was someone to the hit. And she’d just made herself my prey.

Suddenly the female’s breathing hitched, and when I glanced to the house I could see the people I’d watched entering the front door move in clear view of the windows. This female’s grip was iron tight on the photo, and I could see her holding her breath.

She was waiting to see the dark male.

A sudden tightness gripped around my neck, my body jerking in shock. My jaw tensed and I shut my eyes as my collar tightened, the functions inside the metal brace moving to inject into my neck. My teeth slammed together as needles slowly pushed into my skin. And then it came. The burning of the serum flooding into my veins.

While I still had time before my triggered rage took hold, I pulled out my notebook and memorized the name of the chamber. Then I looked to the female in black and I knew what I was about to do.

The needles pulled out of my skin, and then it came. A red mist curtained over my eyes. My muscles strained as the venom filled my every vein. Rage. Uncontrollable rage took its hold, bringing with it the need to deliver pain. To hear screams. To draw blood.

To obey Mistress and all that she’d commanded.

Just before I became lost to the darkness, the bringer of death role I knew I would embrace, my gaze darted to the female dressed in black once more. I crouched, bracing to strike.

Just as the female took a deep breath and stepped out onto the road to cross the street, the venom finally peaked. My eyes widened as I felt my free will fade to nothing—my body was reacting worse than normal, submitting to the drug like Mistress had intended.

The beast inside was freed.

And I attacked.

I attacked the female before me.

Hooking my arm around her neck, I slammed my hand over her mouth. She fought to get free, her voice trying to break from my hand and scream. Dragging her back into the shadows, I tightened my arm around her neck. She fought me all the way, her legs kicking and her fingernails scratching at my hand over her mouth.

My muscles burned at the fear taking hold of her body, my heart beating fast, enjoying the life leaving her body. When the female’s body began to lose fight, I slackened my arm. She flopped in my arms, unconscious. The picture fell from her hand onto the ground. I looked at the picture, my hit’s face staring up at me.

And I smiled.

I smiled, holding this female in my arms.

Because she would pay.

She would pay in pain and blood … then I’d be coming straight for him.

3

LUKA

“Any thoughts to where you’ll marry, Tal?” Kisa asked my sister as we all sat in my parents’ house.

Talia moved closer into Zaal’s side and laid her head on his huge bicep. “Maybe just here at the house. Something small.” Talia’s face fell and she shrugged. “I only have you guys and”—she cleared her throat when Zaal got tense, his face sharp and unmoving—“and, you know, Zaal is on his own.”

Zaal’s posture was rigid, his long dark hair falling over his face. Talia pushed back his hair and put her palm on his face. Zaal turned into her hand and she kissed him. All the tension immediately left his body.

He was struggling. Struggling as I had.

My stomach tightened, because at least I’d had my family. He had no one outside of us. We weren’t his blood. It wasn’t the same.

A hand ran across my chest, and when I glanced down Kisa was smiling up at me. Leaning forward, I kissed my wife on her head and moved my hand down to her stomach, which now held our baby. Kisa laid her head against my shoulder. I’d never felt so content in all my life.

“Still not finding out if I’m having a niece or nephew?” I looked up to Talia, who was smiling at me.

“No, we want it to be a surprise,” Kisa answered, just as my father and Kirill entered the room. Kirill was dressed in a three-piece black designer suit as always. His sharp eyes met mine, and he flicked his head in the direction of my father’s office.

Kirill next turned to face Zaal. “Study.”

Dropping one more kiss on Kisa’s head, I stood and followed my father and the Pakhan into the office with Zaal, my, the knyaz’s, number two, on my heels. As we entered the room, the Pakhan dropped behind the desk and we sat on the chairs opposite.

Zaal sat to my right, my father to my left. Over the last few months Zaal had slowly adjusted to his new role as a sworn member of our Bratva. I took him with me everywhere, showing our people that a new king had joined the Volkovs. Zaal’s sheer size and strength ensured that everyone knew we were growing stronger by the day. And I felt stronger with him by my side.

My father, though suspicious of Zaal for a while, had slowly come round to allowing a Kostava into the ranks. And I couldn’t be happier. The Volkov Bratva had always had three kings; with Zaal’s admission, the thought of assuming the Pakhan mantle no longer filled me with dread—I would have a trustworthy brother to help me lead when it was my time to take the Pakhan seat.

Kirill pulled out a bottle of vodka from behind his desk and poured four glasses. We each drank the shot, and Kirill refilled the glasses.

Pushing the glasses back in our direction, he lay back in his chair and said, “There was an unregistered small private aircraft that arrived yesterday. Our man from the airfield put himself in the refueling center when the aircraft arrived.”

“And no one cleared it with you?” my father asked, eyebrows pulled down.

Kirill flicked his hand and downed his shot before shaking his head. “No permission was sought, but then again, people have no respect anymore for the way things are done in my territory. No respect for the old ways.” He clasped his hands over his stomach and added, “But that does not mean they will not pay for their lack of respect and honor.”

Frowning, I asked, “Who was it?”

Kirill sat forward, meeting my eyes, and said, “Ah. But that is the mystery, Luka. It seems that no one knows or remembers.”

“Then we make those that allowed the plane into our airspace remember. Whatever that takes.” My hands fisted on the arms of my chair. The thought of bringing violence to our enemies making my blood burn with excitement.