Page 7 of Darkest Craving

WOLFGANG

V ictoria’s sobbing reaches my ears even through the thick wooden door of the new room I locked her in. I expected this to happen and, in fact, I thought she'd break much sooner than this. But she waited until she thought she was alone to finally feel the weight of what happened.

Her cry is deep, sorrowful, pained . The kind of cry a good man would do anything in his power to stop by barging in there and cradling her in his arms.

But I’m no good man, and I won’t let it get to me.

I worked too hard to secure my position in this family. And even now, when I carry the responsibility of our legacy on my shoulders, I still sleep with one eye open. I will for the rest of my life. Because I wasn’t lying when I told Victoria we were surrounded by monsters in this house.

They all want something from me, and now that she’s mine, I know for a fact they will try to mess with my plans.

My half-brother wants my crown.

His mother—the woman my father married after my own mother died—has made it her life’s goal to make that happen. It started when I was five, and it granted me more trauma than any kid could handle.

To this day, there are times when I wake up wanting to tear my clothes off because they remind me of the snakes, of the rats crawling around the basement she used to lock me in.

No one knew about it. Not my father, who was away or unavailable, especially after Mother’s death, nor the old housekeepers, before Corinne was employed. The cunt made sure to ambush me when no one was around.

Still, one day, shaken by a snake bite that left a mark, I told my father. Because I didn’t know much back then, but I knew what was happening to me wasn’t normal.

He, on the other hand, had other thoughts about the situation.

He said the discipline Ekaterina was teaching me was good for a boy my age. That the darkness would make me stronger. That harder things were coming in my future, and I needed to be prepared.

I’ll never forget the sound of my pulse in my eardrums when he said all that. From that moment on, rage made a home in my body. It became my fuel, my companion. My only friend.

It got me to where I am now.

Victoria’s cries grow quieter as I walk down the long hallway to the stairwell.

I put her in my wing, where no one can bother her, her room just opposite from mine.

The house is large enough that she won’t have to meet anyone if she doesn’t wander off on her own.

But knowing her, it’s inevitable. And if I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t mind showing her all the ways in which I could discipline her until she understands she’s mine.

A reddish glow stretches across the mahogany floors, following my trail. The sunset has the tree branches bringing their shadows into the house, crawling across the walls that hide memories I hate thinking about.

I was four when a bullet took my mother’s life, and all my good memories—the ones where she was here—are starting to fade to black.

Only my name will stay with me forever. Wolfgang. Like her German grandfather, the man who raised her back in Mittenwald before my father found her beauty and dragged her to the States. I should hate this name—it’s yet another burden that stands against my throne.

But how could I, when it’s the only thing I have left of her?

As I descend the stairs to the ground floor, Corinne smiles at me with a mop in her hands. She stops wiping, mouth opening to say something before it closes again. She wants to ask about Victoria, I can tell.

Despite not being here to see when I brought her home, Corinne has eyes and ears everywhere.

It wasn’t part of her job description as head maid and I never asked her to do it, but over the years, she has become my trusted spy in this house.

Even after all her salary increases, I still don’t think we’re paying her enough to endure all the shit going on around here.

“Should I send some food upstairs?” she asks, framing the question carefully.

“No need. I’ll be back in a few hours. Just make sure you save something for her.”

“For…”

“Victoria.” I nod. “Her name is Victoria. Don’t let anyone wander too close to her room for now.”

“Of course,” she says, and I know she’ll do exactly that. “Mr. Rykov is in his study, in case you wanted to speak with him.”

“I do. Thank you, Corinne.”

Giving me a final smile, she resumes her work and I cross another hallway to find my father’s office. As always, the door is wide open, so I walk inside.

He’s hunched over his desk, looking at what seems to be the monthly report of how much we sold and how much we laundered.

He hates doing it, but he doesn’t trust our accountant after he made an honest mistake last year that cost us a few hundred thousand in taxes—a small amount, but my father doesn’t trust many people these days.

Regardless of whether they’ve wronged him or not.

Only his eyes tilt up from beneath his glasses to see me before shifting back to the documents in front of him.

“Is it done?”

I plop down on the chair opposite him, peering outside the window. “You know it is.”

“Mmm. And Nikolai?”

“He got on his knees. I should’ve sent a picture.”

“Yes,” he says, taking off his glasses and finally looking at me fully. “You should have. But I suspect it won’t be the last time he does it. That fucking rat. Throwing parties with my money…” he slowly waves the hand holding his glasses in the air. “Acting like he’s the shit now.”

“Money does that to people. You know firsthand,” I say, hinting at his wife.

Instead of a scowl, he sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “What did Katy do now?”

He calls her that—Katy—short for Ekaterina. To me, it’s less of an endearing nickname and more of a sign he’s gotten too old and too tired with her antics to use the full length of her name. But that’s just my guess.

“Other than being her usual self, nothing much.”

He shakes his head. “She’ll want to meet the girl. And so will Mikhail.”

Of course they will. But what he isn’t saying is… they’ll want to have their chance at killing Victoria and messing with my plans. Anything to give Mikhail a shot at claiming my throne. I won’t allow that.

I pin my father down with my stare. “They will. When I decide.”

My father understands his role has changed over the years, especially since I came into the business.

In many ways, I’m the one who steers the ship now, and I have been doing it since before I was of age. It’s what I got for being born with an IQ of 148—that, along with a missed childhood and enough blood on my hands to damn me to hell the moment I take my final breath.

Now, my role is more public since Father appointed me as his sovetnik. Which is exactly what pisses Mikhail and Ekaterina off.

“In other news,” I say, “the Irish head is dead. I just got a call.”

Father drums a finger on the table. “Good. We can get the East territories back.”

Good —no sending prayers or anything like that.

The Rykov Bratva is all about seizing power when the opportunity presents itself, and this time is no different. Which is why I already have a plan for making sure the area he’s talking about ends up in our books.

“Take Mikhail with you,” Father adds, anticipating where I’m going next—to The Hive. The place for making deals and bringing people to your side. The place where many wars have started and ended in a bloodbath. “Give him something to do. You know what he’s like when he gets bored.”

I snort. “Because giving a viper a seat at the table has never backfired before.”

“That was a long time ago, and he was too young to understand his role. Take him. I don’t want to see you two fighting anymore.”

Yeah, right, as if it’s that easy.

His mother made sure to poison him against me when we were kids.

He’s never liked me and taking him with me now isn’t going to change that. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to kill me yet.

Still, there’s one reason why I’m tempted to do what Father says.

I’d rather Mikhail come with me than remain under the same roof with my soon-to-be wife. And if all I have to do is pretend I care about his involvement in the alliance I plan on making tonight, then fine.