Page 6

The dim lighting of Obsidian, one of the Bratva’s most exclusive luxury clubs, casts a sultry glow over the private room. The place reeks of opulence—gold accents, leather seats, and glass walls that give a view of the pulsating energy outside. The music is a heavy, steady thrum in the background, but in here, it feels distant, like a heartbeat you barely notice.

Obsidian is just one of many clubs I run, along with other businesses under my control. On the surface, it’s all about luxury, exclusivity, and status. The real purpose is much darker. These places are perfect fronts to launder the black money we make from our other, far more illegal ventures. It’s a smooth operation, one I’ve perfected over the years, but tonight, I can’t focus on any of it.

I sit in the plush corner of the private room, my eyes cold as they scan the room without seeing anything. Artem and Timur are sprawled out across the opposite side, each of them with a woman draped over their laps, laughing and pouring drinks. They’re enjoying themselves, as usual, but I have no time for that. The weight of my father’s death is still pressing on my shoulders, the rage simmering beneath the surface, growing hotter with every second that passes without action.

The sound of Artem’s laughter cuts through the haze, and I catch his eye. His grin falters as he looks at me, realizing I’m not in the mood for this. His brow furrows as he watches me, the concern in his eyes growing. He says something to the women, waving them off, and they leave the room with pouts on their painted lips.

Timur, noticing the shift in the room, sighs, setting down his drink. “What’s going on?” His voice is rough, but there’s a hint of curiosity there.

Artem looks at me, then back at Timur. “He’s still thinking about the Kace Preston situation.”

Timur raises an eyebrow. “That bastard from New York? Thought we were just keeping an eye on him for now.”

I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my jaw tight. “We are,” I say, my voice low, controlled. “For now.”

Timur leans back, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “You’ve been obsessing over this for weeks, Maxim. What’s really going on?”

I clench my fist, feeling the familiar surge of anger pulse through me. “I found out it was Kace who rented the car that was used to murder my father.”

Timur’s casual demeanor shifts, his eyes hardening. He knows how personal this is. “Shit,” he mutters, his voice thick with disbelief. “That piece of shit killed Uncle Arlo?”

Artem nods grimly, his hands resting on his knees. “Maxim’s been chasing leads for months. Now we know Kace is involved.”

Timur sits up straighter, his eyes flicking between us. “So, what’s the move? We can’t just sit on this forever.”

I lean back against the leather seat, the frustration boiling within me. “We can’t move recklessly,” I say, forcing the words out, though every part of me is itching for action. “Dominik wants us to be careful, to wait for the right moment. Kace is still too powerful. If we strike now, we start a war we’re not ready for.”

Timur runs a hand through his hair, clearly not happy with the thought of waiting. “So we do nothing? We let this asshole walk around free while we sit here twiddling our thumbs?”

I glare at him, the tension thick in the room. “We’re not doing nothing. We’re gathering intel, finding his weaknesses. Kace may have power, but he’s not invincible. He’ll slip up eventually, and when he does….” I let the sentence hang, knowing they understand the unspoken threat.

Artem taps his fingers on his knee, his eyes locked on mine. “We need something concrete to move on. Something that’ll cripple him and make sure he doesn’t recover.”

I nod slowly. “We will. I’ve already got people looking into his businesses, his finances. Once we find the weak link, we’ll hit him where it hurts. I don’t just want him dead—I want everything he’s built to crumble around him first.”

Timur exhales, clearly still agitated but nodding in agreement. “So we bide our time.”

“Yeah,” Artem adds, his voice steady. “We keep watching him, keep gathering intel. When the time’s right, we’ll make sure Kace pays for everything.”

I sit back, letting the tension ease slightly, though the anger still churns within. I hate waiting. Every day that Kace walks free feels like an insult to my father’s memory. I know that this isn’t something we can rush. We’ve got one shot at this, and when we make our move, we need to make sure it’s decisive.

I glance at Artem and Timur, both of them on edge, but committed. “We’ll finish him,” I say, my voice cold. “When we do, it’ll make sure nobody crosses us again.”

The room falls silent for a moment. Outside the private room, the club pulses with life—music, laughter, the clinking of glasses—but inside, all I feel is the familiar coldness of revenge settling deep in my bones.

The club outside continues its rhythm—pulsing music, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of distant laughter—but inside, the atmosphere is cold, calculated. Revenge is the only thing on my mind, but it needs to be done right. It needs to be thorough.

Artem leans forward, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he taps his fingers on the table. “I’ve got an idea,” he says slowly, his eyes flicking between Timur and me. “Instead of going straight for Kace, we should hit him where it really hurts—his connections. The man built his empire on relationships and alliances, right? If we start picking off his valuable connections, make him bleed money… we could bankrupt him before he even knows what’s happening.”

Timur scoffs, his lips curling into a grin. “Or we could just shoot his brains out. Simple. Clean.”

I narrow my eyes, shooting him a sharp look. “It’s not that simple, Timur. If we kill Kace now, it won’t just end with him. It’ll open up a whole mess of retaliation from the American Mafia. We’re not ready for that. Not yet.”

Timur rolls his eyes, but nods grudgingly. “Fine, fine. So what’s your plan, then?”

I sit back in my chair, considering Artem’s suggestion. He’s not wrong. Kace’s power comes from his connections, his network of allies and business partners. If we start dismantling that network, piece by piece, it’ll weaken him. Make him desperate. Desperate men make mistakes.

There’s something else. A more personal angle that I’ve been turning over in my mind since Henry gave me the information about Kace.

“Kace has a daughter,” I say, my voice low, but commanding. Artem and Timur both straighten up, their attention sharp. “Sophia Preston.”

Timur raises an eyebrow. “What about her; you thinking of going after the daughter?”

I shake my head. “We messed up last time. Grabbed the wrong girl. We won’t make that mistake again.”

Bratva code is clear—no violence against women. That doesn’t mean she’s off-limits completely, not now that I run things.

“She’s important to him,” I continue, leaning forward, my voice taking on a more calculating tone. “Kace is careful, protective of his family. If we want to get to him, we’re going to need her. Get her in our hands, and Kace will fall apart.”

Artem’s eyes light up with understanding, his grin widening. “You want to use her as bait.”

I nod slowly. “Exactly. If we have Sophia, Kace will be desperate to get her back. Desperation makes men sloppy, and when he’s scrambling to save his precious daughter, that’s when we hit him. Hard.”

Timur crosses his arms, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Smart. Make him think he’s got everything under control, then rip it all away.”

I turn to Artem, my voice sharp and precise. “I need everything on Sophia. Who she spends time with now, her routines. I want to know her inside and out; she might not be the same woman we tried to grab all those years ago.”

Artem nods, already thinking ahead. “Consider it done, Boss. I’ll get my guys on it immediately.”

“Good,” I say, my mind racing through the possibilities. “We’re not going to rush this. We’ll be patient, we’ll be thorough. When the time’s right, we’ll pull the trigger—metaphorically.”

Timur smirks. “And then what? You think Kace will just come crawling, begging for his daughter back?”

I allow a small smile to tug at the corner of my mouth. “He’ll have no choice. He’ll be so focused on getting her back, he won’t see what’s really happening. We’ll bleed him dry, take his connections, his money, his power—and then, when he’s got nothing left, we’ll destroy him.”

Artem claps his hands together, his excitement barely contained. “This is going to be fun.”

Timur chuckles darkly, leaning back in his seat. “I like it. Play the long game, make him suffer, then take him out when he’s at his weakest.”

I glance between them, satisfied that they understand the plan. Kace Preston has no idea what’s coming for him. He’s played his cards well so far, but he’s not invincible. Everyone has a weakness, and his is Sophia.

“Keep this quiet,” I remind them. “No one outside this room needs to know what we’re planning.”

Artem nods, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll keep it under the radar. Give me a day or two, and I’ll have everything you need on Sophia.”

I nod in approval. “Perfect. The minute we have something solid, we’ll make our move.”

With that, the room falls into a tense, focused silence. The path ahead is clear now, and I can feel the weight of the coming storm. Kace Preston thinks he’s untouchable, but he’s about to learn that no one crosses the Sharovs without paying the ultimate price.

As the low hum of the club’s music pulses in the background, I feel the familiar burn of revenge simmering in my chest. I’ll make Kace pay for what he did to my father, and when it’s over, he’ll have lost everything he holds dear.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the dim glow of the club’s lights flickering through the glass wall, the thrum of the bass vibrating under my skin. Revenge has always been a slow game—one that requires patience, precision, and control. Kace Preston will never see it coming. He’ll think he’s on top, that he’s untouchable, right until we strike. By the time he realizes his world is crumbling, it’ll be too late.

“Make sure there’s no trail leading back to us,” I add, my voice firm as I glance at Artem. “If Kace even gets a whiff of what we’re doing, it’ll be harder to corner him.”

Artem nods, his expression serious now. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my best men on it. They’ll be discreet.”

Timur lets out a low chuckle, stretching out lazily on the couch. “This is gonna be a hell of a show. Watching him squirm, slowly losing everything.”

I don’t say anything in response, my thoughts already spinning ahead. Kace might be powerful, but his love for his daughter will be his downfall. It’s poetic, really—using what he values most to dismantle everything he’s built. No matter how strong or ruthless a man is, his heart always betrays him. And when it does, I’ll be ready.

“Keep me updated,” I say, standing up and straightening my jacket. “This is just the beginning.”