Page 2

They say anger is a short madness, but as I stood there, facing Damon Barlow, I felt like I was staring into the abyss of a lifelong rage. I could feel my blood boiling and my fury simmering beneath the surface.

I clenched my fingers into fists, and my brows knitted together, accentuating the scowl on my face. The bastard, Damon, knew that I was pissed by the words spewing from his mouth, yet, he wouldn’t stop talking.

The more he spoke, the angrier I got and the tighter my fists balled. My expression darkened as I listened to his veiled threats and empty words. In my mind, I’d killed the son of a bitch multiple times already and in the most gruesome of ways. In reality, I was just a step away from sending him straight to hell.

The nightclub was alive with the DJ’s hypnotic beats as vibrant lights cast momentary glimpses on the frenzied faces of the dancers. With loud cheers and hands in the air, they swayed their bodies to the pulsating music that had them enchanted.

However, all of that had suddenly become an indistinct noise that seemed to fade into the distance as my rage amplified. I had come out here to have some fun, blow off some steam, and just relax after the week’s work. That was until I ran into Damon Barlow—the last person in the world I thought I’d cross paths with tonight.

Barlow was a man of unyielding ambition and an insatiable hunger for power. He was known for his brutal tactics and his ability to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Barlow had proven that he was a force to be reckoned with. He had built his reputation on fear—to the extent that the mere mention of his name sent shivers down people’s spines.

The man was known for one thing: madness. Barlow had no rules, no creed, no code of honor—and that made him dangerous. He was a mindless animal, a beast with no humanity, nothing to keep him in control.

He was not respected by anyone, but he was certainly feared by many. His gang was responsible for some of the most heinous crimes in the city’s history, from extortion and racketeering to murder and mayhem.

Most leaders of organizations—legal and illegal—were afraid of him. The man was believed to be untouchable, above the law because he owned half the city. Lies!

Barlow was powerful. True. But his influence and reputation were over-exaggerated because people were afraid of the mindless animal within him. They magnified him to the point where he became like a god in their heads, just so they’d have an excuse not to get involved with him. Cowards.

I’d encountered him a few times in the past, and he hated me instantly. This was because I didn’t grovel at his feet or tremble like the others. He disliked my boldness, but I couldn’t care less.

Word in the street was that Barlow thought of me as a disrespectful bastard with no iota of respect whatsoever. He couldn’t be closer to the truth, but he wasn’t entirely correct. He mistook my self-worth for disrespect.

I had the Tarasov blood coursing through my veins, and the one thing no man could do was intimidate me. Barlow might be all the horrible things they said he was, but I was no saint either.

There we were, face to face, as Barlow’s words crawled under my skin, fueling my rage. He was older than me, but that didn’t give him the right to refer to me as a kid—a kid without direction and guidance.

My lieutenant, Alex Solokov, placed a palm on my shoulder, signaling that I should hold in my rage. Alex knew me better than anybody else, and he knew that if Barlow kept talking, things would get messy real quick.

Growing up, I’d struggled with a single, overwhelming issue, a problem that had plagued me throughout my childhood: anger. It was an uncontrollable fury that would burst out of me when triggered, leaving destruction in its wake.

At this point, I was starting to feel triggered by Barlow’s confrontation, and it wouldn’t be long until I snapped. Alex knew exactly what was about to happen, which was why he had his palm on my shoulder. He knew what my fury was capable of once unleashed.

Barlow wasn’t the only mindless animal in the club tonight. I, too, had a demon of my own, and the beast within me had almost broken free from the chains holding it bound.

“I heard the Bratva has been having some…difficulties lately,” Barlow said, his voice calm but dripping with malice and mockery. He stepped forward, his lips curling into a smirk. “Rumor has it that your anger issues cost your organization a multi-million dollar contract.” His tone fell to a hushed whisper, his breath ghosting against my ear.

My jaw tightened, and I felt that rage growing stronger by the second. This man was really testing the patience I didn’t even have.

He pulled away, toiling with his cufflinks and eyes dropping to his wrists. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you put an incompetent in charge of something bigger than him.”

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you, Barlow,” I hissed, my voice low and deadly. “It would be a shame if you lost it.”

His expression darkened slightly. “Don’t threaten me, Raz.” He met my gaze, venom evident in his tone. “I’ve killed people for far lesser crimes than that, boy.”

Rage jolted across my body like lightning, and I could feel my hands trembling as I stepped forward, my eyes never leaving his face. “Call me that again one more time. I dare you.”

His men drew out their guns, ready to protect their leader, and my foot soldiers did the same. The air was thick with tension, and his smirk only accentuated my anger.

Barlow mirrored my expression and began, his voice bold and challenging. “You, Raziel Tarasov, are nothing but a—”

The word hadn’t even left his lips when my fist connected with his jawbone, the impact knocking out his tooth. His head fell backward, blood spilling from his mouth. The blow was so powerful that it lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into a wooden table that broke under his weight.

Before his men could open fire, my foot soldiers took the lead, shooting down the enemy in their sights.

Chaos erupted, the music stopped, and the sounds of gunshots filled the air. Guests screamed and lowered their heads, taking cover from flying bullets as the two teams clashed in a fierce battle.

Alex and my men didn’t shoot to kill, and in no time, they had the enemies subdued and at gunpoint.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop myself from unleashing my fury, my fists drilling into Barlow’s face. He was down on the floor, weak from the blow that had almost knocked him out completely, but I didn’t restrain myself. I couldn’t.

With his collar in my grip, I straddled Barlow’s chest, my knees pinning his shoulders to the floor. My knuckles fell on his nose with powerful strikes that splattered his blood across the ground.

My dirty blond hair was a tangled mess as his head snapped back and forth underneath my heavy punches. My blows were unrelenting despite the amount of blood that covered his face.

Alex rushed over and grabbed my arms from the back, hauling me off Barlow’s battered form. “Calm down—calm down!”

“Let go of me!” I snapped, my blood still boiling with rage.

Those of Barlow’s men who could still walk ran over to help him up, their eyes blazing with fury, but at the time, there was nothing they could do about it.

My men surrounded me like a shield amidst the chaos in case the enemies tried anything stupid. Guests ran helter-skelter, confused as to what was going on. Others had their phones out, filming the whole thing, but I didn’t give two shits. I was tempted to bounce back on Barlow and teach him a lesson he wasn’t going to forget in a hurry.

Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the cops’ arrival. Someone must have tipped them off.

“We gotta get outta here,” Alex said, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

He led the way out, and we followed, pushing through the crowded room until we emerged into the cool night air. The city lights twinkled like diamonds in the distance, the breeze blowing against my face.

My anger had yet to be quenched despite the blood dripping off my knuckles.

Alex fell into step beside me, his voice low and even. “That outburst was highly unnecessary. It was reckless, and you could’ve killed him.”

“He should’ve kept his mouth shut,” I said, my tone unapologetic as I wiped the blood on my knuckles with a white handkerchief.

“That’s beside the point,” he stressed with a whisper, his brows furrowing at my nonchalance. “Barlow is—”

“Barlow is a man, Alex!” I snorted, glaring at him, my rage swelling within me. “And as you know, I fear no man.”

He paused for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There will be consequences, sir,” he said softly, his concern evident.

It fueled my rage how much Alex glorified that son of a bitch. I didn’t give a damn what the consequences would be. The man had threatened me, and everyone knew I hated being threatened. I warned him, dared him to repeat himself, and he was stupid enough to fall for my trap.

He had it coming. Barlow got what he deserved, and that would teach him not to mess with me ever again.

Without another word, I walked away from Alex and the scene, seething in silence.