Page 1 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Viktor

The change in the Pakhan was like night and day.

I witnessed it all—from mental torture to wedded bliss.

He didn’t just win his krolik over; he thrived in their twisted bond.

His wife was the perfect fit, like two shattered souls mashing their jagged edges together to create something new.

He didn’t waste time knocking her up, either.

I washed my face with cold water, smoothing it over my beard.

It hid the worst of the scars around my mouth, but the ones running down my nose, across my eye, and along my cheek always made me self-conscious.

I told the Pakhan I didn’t want the high-ranking position because I didn’t like dealing with people.

That was only part of the truth.

I hated the way they stared at my face.

The Bratva didn’t care.

It was the outsiders—third-party rats and contractors—that couldn’t hide their flinches. Gavriil and Pyotr could deal with them. I preferred my solitude.

Being the Pakhan’s guard kept me close to home and beside a man I admired.

Brutal, sadistic…but fair.

He was a master of creative torture, and our Brotherhood had rules we all followed.

I was his right hand for quick kills.

But the longer I watched the doctor work, the more inspired I became.

Death shouldn’t come easily to those who commit evil or betray the Bratva.

It should be savoured, like expensive vodka—smooth going down, then burning like hellfire.

Violence was the only language I spoke fluently.

The sun broke across the horizon, streaking the sky with red and gold.

I stared at the colours dispassionately as I buttoned my shirt.

With my gun and dagger in place, I grabbed my jacket, hoping I’d get the chance to kill someone today.

I needed it after yesterday, after walking in on the Pakhan and his wife fucking on his chair like a pair of savages.

He got the job done—married and pregnant.

Why did they have to be so fucking feral?

I almost smiled.

None of us were normal.

We were all broken in our own way.

Still, they were perfect for each other—mutually obsessed, mutually insane.

The house was quiet as I went to the kitchen for coffee.

I hesitated when I saw Ania sitting at the island with a jar of peanut butter.

She’d never know how much I admired her courage, not just for how she endured the Pakhan's cruelty, his mental torture, but for how she thrived in it.

Ania didn’t just survive a brutal man.

She outlasted him.

Tamed him.

With her mind sharper than any blade in this organisation, she rooted out filth from the darkest corners of society, one keystroke at a time.

She was the only woman who hadn’t flinched when she saw my face. Not out of pity. Not out of fear. Just…understanding.

That’s when I knew that no matter how twisted our world was, she had earned her place at the top.

Our Bratva Queen.

“Good morning,”

she said, holding up the jar with a grimace. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m always silently judging,”

I muttered, heading for the coffee machine.

“Hey!”

“Bunny, what did I say about leaving our room?”

came the inevitable growl.

I didn’t even flinch when I turned to see my naked boss—another day in the Ilyin household. I needed my own place. I’d seen more dick in this house than in a damn bathhouse.

“But the baby wanted some peanuty goodness,”

she whined, holding up the jar like it was evidence.

When the coffee was ready, I poured a mug for both myself and the Pakhan. He was now seated, still naked, on the stool beside Ania, rubbing her small, swollen belly. He nodded as I slid the mug toward him.

“We want you to be the baby’s godfather,” he said.

I choked mid-sip.

I stared at them. They were serious. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“Yeah, neither do we,”

the Pakhan said dryly, sipping his coffee.

“I’m not sure the baby—”

I started, frowning. I’d probably scare the kid.

“I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

“Da, Pakhan. I’d be honoured,”

I said quietly, the weight of their trust settling in. “You know what I’d do to protect your little one.”

“I know, Viktor. I wouldn’t have it any other way,”

he replied, slinging an arm around his wife.

“I miss coffee,”

Ania said, leaning in to inhale her husband’s mug.

“And I miss when you couldn’t talk. We all make sacrifices, Bunny,”

he drawled.

“You’re all so mean to me,”

she pouted, stabbing her spoon into the jar. But an unholy glow lit her eyes when the Pakhan whispered something in her ear.

The jar and spoon clattered onto the counter. His growl followed, low and possessive—the same tone he used before putting a bullet between someone’s eyes. Yet here he was, scooping her into his arms like she was something sacred, not a woman obsessed with peanut butter.

I didn’t look up—not because I didn’t want to see a naked ass, but because I was still reeling from the godfather news.

I’d stood by them at their wedding. I was the first they told about the baby. I’d attended every appointment. I’d seen the tiny life move inside the Pakhan’s wife. Watched him worship that bump with the same reverence he reserved for vengeance.

It was a blessing to be trusted.

A curse to want more.

I silently witnessed every intimate detail of their lives—from the outside in.

***

“We have the DocuSign contract from Petrov!”

Ania screamed, jumping out of her chair.

Finally. Maybe I’d get to kill someone today. Vadik had given me some of his tools, and I was eager to test them out.

“Bunny, sit your fucking ass down before you give my kid a concussion,”

the Pakhan scolded as she bounced.

“No! Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

she shot back, although she stopped bouncing.

I rolled my eyes when he indulged her anyway, pulling her onto his lap with a grin.

“If you two are going to desecrate that chair again, at least give me my orders first,”

I groaned.

“You sound frustrated, Viktor. I thought my gift—”

“Don’t you dare say it,”

I growled, already raging at the memory of the rainbow dildo she left in my room.

“Get the team together,”

the Pakhan said. “He’ll be at the Kremlin in a few days. Bunny will get you everything you need to get in and out of the hotel.”

“It might help your frust—”

she started, but he slapped his hand over her mouth.

“You can leave. I’ll message you the details later,”

he said, eyes turning cold. “Don’t hold back. Make him pay, Viktor.”

My spine straightened. My pulse kicked.

“He will suffer, Pakhan,”

I vowed, quiet but deadly.

Ania closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. I remembered when she first saw what Petrov had done. She vomited.

It would hit harder now, knowing they had a child on the way.

The Pakhan cradled her like a child, his killer hands gentling to comfort. I looked down at my own—tattooed, callused, trained for pain—and wondered if they could do the same. Or had I gone too far? Was there room left in me for softness?

He’d found his way out of the dark. Maybe there was hope.

I looked away.

The thought of Petrov grounded me. I had a job to do.

I left them to their intimacy, closing the office door quietly behind me. My mind was already assembling a team.

This wasn’t work.

This was pleasure.

Petrov didn’t know it yet, but when he signed that contract, he signed his death warrant.