Page 3 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Viktor

The restless energy in me wanted to get to work, but I needed to speak to the Pakhan first. The Bratva always came first. I waited until the Krolik left and cleared my throat. The Pakhan looked away from the papers in his hand.

“There was a small problem last night,” I said.

“I heard,”

the Pakhan replied, though his expression was unreadable.

“Batushka, I want to keep her as my pet. I’ll make sure she never poses a risk to our Brotherhood,”

I said, standing up, referring to him as a father from the priesthood.

“You know the rules, my friend,”

he volleyed back.

“Do you doubt that I can break her, Pakhan?”

I asked, curious, as his lips twitched for a second.

“Like I broke my Bunny?”

he asked, sarcastic—because we both knew she was the Queen and she ruled like one, even over her King.

“The Krolik is an anomaly. The maid I have is terrified. She’s nothing like your wife, Pakhan,”

I said solemnly.

His face softened a touch. “Yes, my Bunny is one of a kind,”

he said, a small smile curving his lips as pride filled his voice. “Unbreakable.”

“I want—need—to do this. I vow she will not be a threat to our family, Batushka,”

I said, lifting my chin in determination.

He sighed heavily and put the papers down. His fingers tapped the table, and I ground my teeth together at the soft sound. The longer I waited, the tighter my fists clenched, digging into my palms until he finally spoke.

“You have until the baby is born. I expect her complete loyalty and obedience to you, Viktor. You have the compound at your disposal. Once the more intense training begins, take her to the Borki property. The basement will suit your needs. If Bunny finds out—”

he said, lowering his voice in warning.

“Da, Batushka. Spasibo,”

I said with a nod. Yes, Father. Thank you.

The Krolik might be testy with her pregnancy hormones and throw a spanner in my work, but the terms were more than generous. The Pakhan was silently rooting for me, giving me time and the amenities I needed for every chance at success—three whole months.

First, she needed to see a fraction of what I was capable of.

“If you are unsuccessful, then you know what has to be done, Viktor,”

he added, cutting through my thoughts.

I thought of her wide, tear-filled eyes, how she pissed all over herself.

“Trust me, Pakhan. I will break her,”

I said, fully aware that failure was not an option.

If she didn't break, she would meet the soldier of death.

***

I sat with Vadik, and he showed me how to make the incisions to peel the skin away from the testicles while keeping them intact. It was not as exciting practising on the balls of a bull, but I followed the doctor’s instructions and managed not to cut too deep.

“You make this look so easy,”

I muttered.

“It’s my job. I couldn’t be out there running around like you do. I prefer science and an operating room,”

he said, peeling back the skin to reveal a perfect testicle. “Look here. Do you see this? That’s the spermatic cord. One small nick and it releases the rest of the testicle.”

I leaned down and mimicked him. A gun would have been easier, but I kept that thought to myself—he still held the scalpel.

“Remember, on a live subject, there’ll be blood. Makes it trickier to grip.”

I stifled a sigh and reminded myself why Petrov deserved this.

“How did you end up working for the Pakhan?” I asked.

There were always rumours, but the Pakhan never spoke of Vadik’s past.

Vadik side-eyed me before he pulled the testicle free from the scrotum and placed it in a metal bowl.

“I was due to testify against someone. They burned down my house. My family was inside it,”

he said, his tone as clinical as his hands.

My lips parted, but I said nothing.

“The Pakhan offered me a job. And revenge. It won’t bring my wife or son back, but I got what I needed,”

he said, cold as ever.

“I’m sorry, Vadik. I didn’t know.”

The brotherhood was full of men with scars—some visible, some not. It kept us sharp. It kept us loyal.

He did not reply. Just continued with the next steps, walking me through the drugs, the tools, and the methodology for the whole procedure. I listened closely, studying the man.

He was clean-shaven, medium build, with a healthy head of hair, even with strands of grey threading through the black. He never trained with us, so he lacked the muscle, but I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley with a scalpel.

I gave him another glance. Decided he’d have speed on his side.

“Do you want to ask me on a date, Viktor? Because I’m not into rainbow dil—”

“Who the fuck told you about that?”

I cut in, feeling the heat rush to my face. “It was the Krolik, wasn’t it?”

“Focus. You’re not here to eye me up,”

he said, tapping the scalpel against the bowl.

“Yes, doctor,”

I muttered, returning to the task. I focused on getting the second ball out of the scrotum sack, repeating the name of the paralysing drug in my head.

I’d always thought Vadik was a creepy fuck. But after hearing what he’d lived through?

I couldn’t blame him.

***

Petrov was nicely tied up on the bed. The flickering lights did not bother us. The main ones only came on when the show was about to begin. I liked how they blinked into the far corners of the darker parts of the room—ominous and theatrical.

“I’ll get the witness,”

I said to Vadik, but he simply grunted and straightened the tools on his table.

He had the same rituals for every operation. I could not complain—his presence alone would terrify my new pet, which worked in my favour.

When I reached the cell, I slid the key into the lock. As I turned it, my pulse quickened at the thought of Natalya capitulating to my commands.

For once in my life, I did not care what a woman thought of my scars.

I used to—more than I’d ever admit.

Every fuck had been from behind. Quick. Mechanical. A body to use and discard before she could flinch at the sight of me. Before the pity set in. Or worse, the fear laced with revulsion.

I never kissed them. Never looked them in the eyes. That would have required something human.

They were holes to fill. Nothing more. Like scratching an itch. Because nothing ruined the high faster than seeing my reflection in their expression. That moment when desire died in their eyes.

But this one—my suka—she would never flinch.

Not once I had broken her in.

She would worship every scar. Every jagged line and dark part of me, thank me for giving her purpose.

For owning her.

When I fucked her, she would look me in the eye and not see a monster.

Only her Master.

I yanked the metal door open. Dressed in black, it took me a moment to spot her. She was curled in the corner of the filthy cell, trying to vanish into the shadows.

Her red, tear-swollen eyes stared at me until she raised a trembling hand to shield herself from the light spilling in.

“Get up,”

I snapped, cold and hard, the Pakhan’s words echoing through my head.

She had two choices. Obey and live. Or defy me—and die.

I refused to fail.

My days of fucking women from behind were over.