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Matthias

I watch Roman shimmy the lock like a professional, silent except for the soft click as it gives way. Ronald Ward’s front door swings open. The cocky bastard didn’t even lock the deadbolt.

It’s just after three a.m. He’ll be in bed.

Perfect.

I refused to wait. Grabbing him at night also lessens the chance of witnesses. And no one else is home. His wife left him and took the kids. Good. They deserve better than this piece of shit. Hopefully he has life insurance. They’ll get it after tonight.

Bash showed us the floor plan before we left. His bedroom’s upstairs. We creep up the stairs, and I’m both impressed and annoyed by how light on his feet Roman is.

Then I remember. He’s the Syndicate enforcer. Of course, he’s good at this.

We enter the bedroom and stop at the foot of his bed.

I’m shaking with fury at the sight of him sleeping soundly, while Margot is God-knows-where because of him .

Focus.

“Ronald Ward,” Roman bellows. “Get the fuck up!”

We stay cloaked in darkness. He doesn’t need to know who we are yet.

Not that it matters if he did. He’ll be dead before the sun rises.

Ronald jolts upright, clutching the covers like they’ll protect him.

They won’t.

“Who… who are you? How did you get in?” His voice trembles.

“I’m Matthias Montclair.”

Recognition hits him fast. His eyes widen, then his brows furrow. Confusion flickers across his face.

He knows the name. From Syndicate Enterprises. Not the real Syndicate.

For the first time, I regret turning our name from crime lords into businessmen.

“Mr. Montclair, what are you doing here?”

“And this is my brother, Roman Montclair.”

At Roman’s name, he pales. I guess he knows of him from his Bratva connections.

“Your… brother?” His voice cracks. “Take whatever you want.”

Roman growls, “We want you .”

“Please. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know anything!”

I step into the light.

“I think you know exactly what you did.”

His eyes widen again.

“You’re the one who was with Margot.” He whispers, white as a ghost.

“She’s mine,” I say softly. Calmly. Steadily. “She’s my everything. And you took her from me. ”

I get closer. Roman moves around the other side of the bed, boxing him in.

“Please. I didn’t know she was connected to the Syndicate. I didn’t know!”

“You took my woman and handed her over to murderers. Rapists. How much did you get for her?”

“I didn’t know–”

“ How much? ”

His voice shakes. “Fifty thousand.”

He actually has the nerve to look ashamed.

“I need the money. I had a few bad runs… I thought I’d get lucky again.”

He sold my sweet girl to feed his gambling addiction.

I roar an inhuman sound and launch myself on him.

“You fucking hit my Margot.” My voice cracks on her name.

My fists crash into his face. Over and over. I hear a pop, then a crunch. Blood sprays on the bed. His teeth shatter under my knuckles. I don’t stop. Not even after he does.

Eventually, Roman grips my shoulder.

“We need him alive. For now.”

Reluctantly, I pull back. Roman slings a limp Roland over his shoulder like a sack of garbage and leaves the room. As I follow, I look down at myself.

My white dress shirt is soaked red. As well as my knucks and all visible skin. I look like a monster.

It reflects the beast within.

***

We’re in a Syndicate warehouse.

Ronald’s wrists are chained to the ceiling. His body hangs limp and wrecked. He looks just as pathetic as he is.

Roman splashes cold water on him.

He sputters awake, eyes darting around the room.

“Ready to talk?” Roman asks with a grin .

“Yes. I’ll tell you everything if you let me go.”

Coward.

Not even trying to hold out. Greater men have suffered in here for days before breaking.

Roman tilts his head. “What would you trade your life for? Would you give us your wife and kids?”

“Yes! You can have them!” The bastard doesn’t even hesitate.

Roman sneers. “You’re lower than filth. Now, you’re going to answer some questions.”

He nods frantically. “Anything.”

“What do you know about the Koschei Group?”

I drift behind him and scan the tools on the table.

“They’re a front for the Bratva,” he blurts. “They use Northern Hemisphere Cargo to smuggle whatever they’re moving. Pay us big money to look the other way.”

“Us or you?” Roman demands.

“Me.” He whispers in shame.

“What product are they moving?”

“I don’t know. They give me the container numbers, and I arrange the pickups. We drop them at lot X in the northern dock, and the money shows up.”

Roman’s voice turns friendly. “Where’s the money?”

“I lost it. Cards. I’ve had some bad luck, bad hands. You know how it is.”

We both stare.

“No,” I growl. “I don’t”

Roman chuckles. The bastard doesn’t even notice it’s fake.

“That’s why you sold out my Margot.” I’m behind him now, whispering in his ear.

I light the blowtorch and hold it just shy of his spine.

He starts shaking.

“No… Yes. But I didn’t know– ”

The flame licks his skin.

He screams, but I don’t stop until I’m satisfied.

Roman continues the interrogation. His voice remains smoother than honey.

“How much have they been paying?”

“Ten grand per shipment. Every other Saturday. It’s been about a year.”

“How’d it start?”

“A Russian guy approached me. I declined at first, but he knew about my debt. He raised his offer. I needed the money. My wife had just left me. I thought I could win her back.”

I lean in and let the heat brush over his fresh burn.

Bullshit. He never said no.

“But she didn’t come back, did she?” Roman mocks.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“And what about Margot Peterson?”

He stiffens.

“She found the holes in the paperwork. She dug into the Koschei Group and realized it doesn’t exist. She threatened to go to the authorities. I panicked and told my contact. He said to set up a meeting and let him know when.”

He swallows.

“I set up coffee with her, but she didn’t show. He had men waiting and… they didn’t come back. He was furious. Cut my pay. Said to find her.”

My fists curl.

“I started looking for her. Went to her house. Asked neighbors. Nothing. More men disappeared. He put a bounty on her. Then last night at the gala, I saw her. I called him immediately. I waited until I could get her alone. Led her to the exit.”

He looks down.

“They took her. He paid me. I went home. ”

And Margot didn’t.

“Who’s your contact?”

“I don’t know his name. He goes by Koschei. I have a burner phone. I keep it in my nightstand. There’s no password. You can have it.”

Roman’s jaw tightens.

“What are they doing to her?”

“I don’t know. They just said… she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” He pauses. “And that she’d pay for his men.”

I roar and burn his back again.

His screams fill the room.

“Please! I swear I don’t know anything else!”

I circle around to face him.

“Is that everything?”

“Yes,” he sobs. “Please. Let me go.”

“Good.”

I raise the torch and begin writing.

M

A

R

G

O

T

Burned into his chest.

His howls echo, but I don’t stop.

“Now that you’ve punished me, you’ll let me go?” He begs.

Roman steps forward.

“No, you piece of shit. You hurt Margot. You fucking sold her.”

He punches the center of the burn. I hear ribs snap.

Roman walks behind him and returns with a tub of gasoline. Ronald sees it and starts begging again. Sobbing. Roman pours it over him like a baptism .

“I figured this is your new M.O. Do the honors.” He nods.

I step forward, inches from Ronald’s face.

And inhale the pungent smell of gasoline.

A scent I’ve come to love when it’s turning to ash those who stand between me and Margot.

“Enjoy hell.”

I bring the torch to his face and squeeze the trigger.

Flames engulf him.

His screams fill the warehouse.

But they don’t soothe me.

Not yet.

Not until Margot is back in my arms.

I’m coming, sweetheart.

I promise.