Weapons.
The V Games aren’t complete unless we’re the proud owners of the best weapons on the planet. Father has sent me after women—dirty little playthings to be used as pawns and distractions for next winter’s games—but I’m taking care of my own agenda as well. While he’s training used-up whores to be duplicitous sex vixens, I’ll be training someone on how to disembowel a man in three seconds flat. The games I play are far more vicious.
I’m training a new someone.
My last someone was ripped right from my grip as of last week.
Anger, furious and explosive, bubbles just below my surface.
In due time, I’ll deal with that error.
Vas had always been a deviant shithead, and although I wanted to throttle the little terror when he would torment Irina, I saw the darkness inside him. I wanted to bottle it and take it out when the time was right. He made an excellent trainee when I tracked him down nearly a year ago, already fighting in underground circuits and running his own street crew. He was nothing but a thug, but a cunning one, and willing to learn and train. Perfect.
I taught him everything I knew…
And then Leonid ripped him away now that his blood is actually worth something. Leonid knew he was his the entire time Vas trained with me—they both did—yet they failed to offer that information, instead learning what they could while they could.
In due time, they’ll understand their mistake.
“I like this one,” I tell Oleg, the arms dealer who’s traveled from nearly five hundred miles away to offer me his stash.
“Just one?” he asks, his voice gravelly from too many years of smoking.
“To start,” I say as I hold up the knife. It glistens under the overhead light. It’s curved like a curled claw with a sharp blade on both sides. The tip is shaped like a fishing hook. Whomever meets the end of this won’t live to tell about it. “What else you got?”
My new trainee, Stepan Koslov, from the Second Families, who are deemed lesser than the First Families, doesn’t move a muscle beside me. He’s every bit as tall and wide as Vas was. Where I thought Vas was just some kid of a housekeeper, I know Stepan’s bloodline. His father, Nestor, is a small arms dealer. Nothing of Oleg’s caliber, but they are local and good to buy from in a pinch. Stepan runs his mouth a lot less than Vas, which works in his favor. But where Vas moved without hesitation, Stepan is still learning and thinks too long before each move. Stepan may be the older of the two at nineteen, but he’s just not quite there yet.
Yet.
I will break him in like I broke Vas.
A ruthless, fighting killing machine.
A winner.
Leonid can go fuck himself when he loses. You can’t go nose-to-nose with someone like me and come out unscathed. I always win.
I hand the blade to Stepan and he grips the hilt. It fits perfectly in his massive hand. My heart tightens in my chest as I recall handing my brother a blade before he entered The Games just over two months ago. At least with Stepan, I feel nothing for him. He could walk into those Games ten months from now and get gutted like a fish within the first few moments and the only regret I’d have would be that I didn’t train someone better.
He will be the best, though.
“This one,” Stepan growls from beside me as he hands me back the knife. “I like this one.”
I give him a nod as I tuck it away inside my jacket and then follow Oleg to another trunk full of weapons. He shows me grenade launchers and guns. Those interest me for selling to the neighbors to the south. Unrelated V Games business. I snap my fingers over the chest and motion for the entire thing.
Oleg lets out an appreciative whistle as we continue “shopping.” I pluck unique items that will prove to one day be useful for Stepan along the way. Once I’ve accumulated enough trunks to satisfy the Kazakhstani mob, I motion for Oleg to follow me. Stepan stays behind, guarding our haul without having to be told. He’ll make for a formidable player in The Games. Unlike Vas and Viktor, he obeys my goddamn commands.
I walk out of the garage and into our house. Oleg knows the drill. He brings weapons all the time. My father and him go back to before I was born. Now that I’m more or less in charge, I deal with Oleg. Who the hell knows what Father actually does these days besides meddle in my business. Oleg steals an apple from a basket and I have to listen to his crunching and slurping the entire way to my office. If I were a lesser man, I’d shove the half-eaten fruit down his windpipe and let him suffocate. There’s nothing worse than a loud eater. Loyalties or not, one day that bullshit will get him killed.
Once inside my office, Oleg settles his beefy frame in one of the chairs. I walk over to a giant portrait of my father, Vika, and myself. The one that used to include my brother as well has been removed from the premises. I allowed it as a sign of respect for my father, but the rest of my pictures in my office of my brother and I remain. I grab hold of the bottom left of the giant frame and pull it from the wall. Behind the obnoxious painting is my massive safe. While Oleg makes love to his apple, I key in my code and open the safe. Inside is a duffle bag full of money—money that’s already been negotiated with Oleg. He knows the drill. I may like to pretend I’m deciding on the weapons, but I end up buying them all.
No man can ever have too much of an arsenal.
I crave to look at the stack of photos at the back of the safe, but now’s not the time. Pictures of my siblings and I when we were children are held dear beside my mother’s jewelry and Viktor’s old wallet. No pictures of my mother exist. All I have left of her is what’s in this safe and sketchy memories of her smile. But with my brother’s wallet, I can sometimes hold the leather to my nose and inhale the cologne lingering on to it. The memories of him are bolder and still etched into my mind. Fuck, how I miss my brother.
I realize I’ve stopped to touch the wallet. I stifle a groan and quickly shut the safe. When I turn to regard Oleg, juices run down his stubbly jaw and drip on his shirt. It makes me twitchy to grip his thick throat and drag him from my pristine office. Instead, I take a page from Father’s book and ignore what disgusts me. I set the bag of money at his feet and then unbutton my suit jacket. With a quick tug, I pull it from my body and hang it from a hook in the corner.
I’m on edge after seeing Viktor’s wallet.
It’s a constant reminder that he’s gone.
Fury at my sister sets my soul on fire. I wish to tug at my tie and loosen it, but I refuse to show weakness, even in front of a man who wouldn’t notice if weakness slapped him in the face. I place my hands on my hips and stand behind my desk, my legs slightly parted. The vest I’m wearing fits snugly over my crisp white dress shirt. I’m uncomfortable and realize I must be spending too much time in the gym training with Stepan. I’m outgrowing my damn clothes.
“The women?” I ask.
Oleg sticks one of his dirty fingers in his mouth and slurps off the juicy remnants. With his eyes on his hand, I allow myself one moment to show my disgust. I snarl my lip up and shake my head. Fucking disgusting. How Father put up with this for decades is beyond me.
“Well,” he says, once he’s satisfied he’s clean. “I’ve got fifteen out in the truck. Dirty as all fucking hell, but Yuri likes ‘em that way. The dirtier the better. Some of dem bitches are even into humiliation.” He grabs at his crotch and grins salaciously at me.
“We don’t need them into anything,” I bark. “We need them strong and pliable.”
“The money?”
“You know it’s already in the bag.”
He grunts and raises his hand like he’s going to throw his core across the room and into my trashcan. Over my goddamn body.
Before I can open my mouth to threaten him, I lock eyes with a pair of icy blues watching me from a dark corner of my office.
Little Irina.
I’m so stunned by her sudden appearance, I allow the dipshit to throw—and miss, for that matter—his core at my trashcan. He grunts and stands to go pick it up. I can’t look away from the little girl hiding in my office, watching my business like it’s her God-given right.
She sits primly, wearing a plain, fitted black dress. Her silky blonde hair has been straightened and hangs in front of the swell of her breasts. A black headband keeps the hair from her eyes. To an outsider, they’d think of her as an ordinary girl, barely a woman.
But ordinary girls don’t spy on Russian mobsters without fear in their eyes.
No, a challenge dances in her blue-eyed stare. A challenge that, for a moment, speaks right to my cock. It twitches, and I force my stare from her supple, swollen lips. Lips I’d nibble the fuck out of. I’d take that silky hair of hers and wrap it tightly around her slender throat. Watch her eyes gloss over with tears. I’d bring her to the brink of death, only to reawaken her and show her how alive she really is.
“Need to check out the merchandise?” Oleg asks, dragging me from beautiful visions I’d much rather dwell on. His gaze flits over to the corner and he whistles. “Well, I’ll be goddamned, boy. Is this the one you’re marrying?” He waves, far too friendly for an arms dealer, motioning her to him. “Come here, pretty little thing. Introduce yourself to Uncle Oleg.”
I grit my teeth and glower at Irina. I knew the Volkov ladies would arrive today, but I certainly didn’t expect to see either of them until dinner. Having her here will prove to be more difficult than I originally thought. Perhaps seeing the skanks out in the truck will help the state of my cock. It would also do well to put my little shadow in her place. Now that they are here, they don’t run things as they once did.
They are merely pawns.
Gorgeous pawns, no doubt, but still pawns.
“Come,” I bark out and snap my fingers, pointing to the carpet in front of me.
Irina’s cheeks flush, but she obeys. That really gets my dick hard. Images of her on her knees in front of me flash. Her blonde tresses tangled in my fist as I skull-fuck her pretty mouth. Slowly, as though her walk itself is meant to seduce me, she makes her way over to me. I notice every detail as she moves. The way she bites her fat bottom lip that I’d love to suck. The way her neck turns slightly pink in my presence. The way her small tits bounce with each step she takes beneath her dress.
Sweet, Irina, you’ve showed your cards far too soon.
You want me, but you can’t have me, my love.
She stops in front of me and looks up. Her nostrils flare as she inhales my scent. It does something to my insides. Basic and male. I have the urge to grip her slender, unmarked throat and squeeze until it bears my memory for days.
Would her plump, pink lips turn blue?
Would she gasp for breath? Claw at my vest and pop the buttons?
Or would she moan and squirm and spread her legs for me?
Would sweet Irina come, my name rasping from her lips that would no longer taste the air?
My cock is impossibly hard, and I don’t realize I’m struck simply staring at her until Oleg lets out a chuckle. He may be close to my father, and therefore an ally of mine, but what he just saw is grounds for termination. The permanent kind. I snap my gaze his way, and he raises his hands in surrender.
“I didn’t see nothin’, kid,” he says. “Meet you at the truck.” He hurries from my office and out of my sight. Wise man.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, my voice low and deadly. My eyes are still on the doorway because I can’t look at her. She weakens me with her stares. So sweet and curious. I can’t deal with this right now.
“I came to talk to you. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?” I turn and regard her young face.
It wasn’t but a few months ago that she was nothing but a child. An untouchable, out of reach child. Still, I fantasized things no man ever should. Dreams of holding her down, spreading her creamy thighs, and shoving inside her tight, virgin heat. Sometimes I wish my world weren’t so complicated. I’d give up so much just to have one taste of what others take for granted. Something as simple as fucking a woman you’re addicted to, and I am addicted. She holds a power over me, and the pull is getting unbearable.
Her gaze travels to my mouth, then my Adam’s apple. She keeps skimming down until her eyes fixate on my vest pocket. Her hand lifts and her slender fingers brush against my pocket as she plucks away a stray fiber. When she goes to drop the fiber, I grip her dainty wrist. It’s naked. If she were mine, I’d decorate her delicate wrists with glistening gems.
“Don’t put that on my floor,” I murmur, my voice husky.
A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “You’ll let Uncle Oleg throw half-eaten apples in your office and drip juice all over your chair, but I can’t drop a loose thread?”
I would love nothing more than to continue this banter and flirt with the gorgeous girl. Unfortunately, I have a duty and it calls, goddammit. She is the sister of my fiancée. I can’t go there. Even if I selfishly wanted to fuck her and take that ripe cherry I know she has all for myself, I can’t. Father would have my head if I mess up this marriage arrangement.
“It’s high time the Volkovs see how the Vasilievs do business,” I bite out, my voice turning cold. I can’t bring myself to release her hand. “Tell me what it is you want, then I will make you pay for it by doing something for me.”
Her brows furl together as she realizes our moment has dissipated. I wish I could put the smile back on her face, but now is not the time. Possibly never. She tries to tug her wrist from my grip, but I tighten it. If I can’t adorn her wrist with jewels, she can wear my bruises instead.
“I need a studio.”
I blink at her. “There is an office and I was told Diana and you shared one before—”
“Not an office, a studio.” Her cheeks turn a rosy pink as she drops her gaze from mine. “Like the sunroom back home.”
To paint.
All fierce determination to stay focused falls to my feet and shatters into a million pieces as my mind whirs with possible studio spaces in my home. I want to keep her far from the south wing where Father resides. Perhaps the west wing instead. I know just the place.
“I’ll find you a place,” I vow, my voice husky once more.
Her blue eyes lift and glitter with excitement. My heart rattles in its cage. This woman—sweet little Irina—is so bad for me. She distracts me when I need to stay sharp and focused. “Thank you, Vlad.”
I stare at her for a beat longer, imagining just how beautiful she’ll look with the morning sun blanketing her as she paints in the greenhouse just off the sitting room beside my bedroom. I could watch her without her knowing. Like old times. My cock jolts against my thigh, eager for this notion.
“That’s settled,” I grit out, driving away all thoughts of Irina painting in my house. “Come with me.”
Oleg opens the back of the truck and many eyes peer from the darkness. Used, tired, worn out looking women stare back at us. Many are beautiful despite their dirty appearance. Father will be pleased.
I motion for them to follow me. They whisper quietly amongst themselves as they file out of the truck. Irina keeps shooting me death glares, which only serves to harden my resolve. She will do this because it is asked of her. If she expects protection on my part, and a damn studio, then she can do this for me. It makes more sense for a woman to handle it anyway. At least I don’t have to worry about any of them ending up pregnant, raped, or mysteriously dead.
Irina huffs, mumbling furious Russian curse words under her breath.
Okay, so maybe dead…only time will tell.
I walk them around the house to the back where a small shed sits. Inside is a stairwell that leads under the house. Beneath our home is where we train our fighters and whores. The ones who are worthless of manipulation will be sold to the likes of Ven Vetrov and his family. They’re always good to traffic a handful of worthless women.
I pull a set of keys from my pocket. The engine of the truck echoes off the snow-covered landscape as Oleg leaves. Stepan brings up the rear, making sure none of the women flee. I’m not sure whether Oleg took these women or lured them here under the guise of better working conditions, but either way, I’ve paid for them and they’re mine.
“I can’t believe you bought these women,” Irina mutters.
Ignoring her, I unlock the shed and push through the door. I step aside and usher Irina in. Her shoulder, now covered in a thick winter coat, brushes against my chest. If there weren’t sixteen people behind us, I’d push her against the dark, dingy shed wall and show her what other nefarious deeds I’m capable of.
I grip her elbow and guide her down the dimly lit stairwell. “This way.”
She tries to jerk her arm from mine, but I tighten it. Little Irina is going to wear many of my bruises. We make it to the bottom that opens up into a giant area covered with mats. The walls are lined with rooms used for various things. In the women’s case, they will sleep and train here. By train, they will learn to fuck like their lives depend on it.
Because they will.
As soon as Stepan, Irina, and I leave, we’ll lock the fifteen women inside. They’ll be fed and cared for. They just won’t be allowed to leave.
I turn and stare down each one, quickly assessing them. I weed out the good from the bad in one quick glance. And the one cowering behind a thick-waisted woman in the back…well, she’s going to be Father’s favorite. He likes the small, dark-haired ones. The ones who most resemble girls. The ones who are unable to put up much fight. With a barely stifled sigh, I point at her.
“Name?”
She peers up at me as though I could possibly be her savior. Big brown eyes. Messy hair hiding her from the world around her. “Darya.”
“Take Darya to stable one,” I tell Stepan. “The rest of you may choose your own stable.”
Irina is stiff beside me, but wisely doesn’t say a word. When I’m commanding in my element, people bend to my will. They bow at my feet and obey my commands. Even the sweet girl I’d love to spend each day fucking the fire out of.
“Stables? What are we? Livestock?” a mouthy blonde with a ratty fur coat challenges me.
“Call yourselves whatever you want,” I sneer. “But you belong to me now. If you’re wise, you will train, and you will succeed. If you behave, you’ll be rewarded. Simple.”
“Doesn’t sound very simple at all, asshole,” she yells back.
Belligerent bitch.
“Come here,” I seethe, my voice low and dangerous.
The woman eyes a chair nearby. With venom in her glare, she picks it up and heaves it toward Irina.
Rage.
Hot, quick, violent.
I don’t think as I knock the chair out of the way before it takes out Irina.
Yanking my new favorite hooked knife from my inside pocket, I lunge for the woman. Slash. Yank. Splatter. So fast. So efficient. I stare down in awe at the bloody, gory mess pouring from her stomach. Her intestines slide from the slices I inflicted and fall to the floor with a slurp. Several women gasp and whimper, but it’s a soft sob I recognize that pulls me from my furious haze.
I push the still standing, but quickly emptying example of a woman, and she crumples to the floor. Fourteen women now. Father won’t be pleased. However, the high-pitched screams as Stepan locks the young woman into stable one tells me I’ll soon be forgiven.
Father loves a screamer.
With blood dripping from my knife, I turn and point it at each woman. They all cower and scamper off to the stables leaving Irina gaping at me in horror.
Sweet Irina, this game is deadly and I always win.
Your stupid father threw you to the wolves.
“Y-You’re a m-monster,” she rattles out, her teeth clacking together.
I stalk over to her and smear a bloody thumb along her creamy cheek. “As if you did not know this, little Irina.”
“She was just a woman—”
I cut her off by pressing my bloody thumb to her plump lips. “I’ll only say this once, so listen clearly. I. Do. What. I. Want. She was a whore, bought and paid for, and now she’s an example to the other women.”
Her blue eyes widen, and she blinks rapidly at me. She starts to pull away from me and the monster she claims lives within me strikes. I snag her dainty throat and yank her to me.
Diana.
The Games.
Father.
I try to focus on all of that, but I can’t. All I see is her. Irina’s pink lips smeared with the whore’s blood. Lips that part so she can gasp for air. I lean forward, slightly releasing my grip, so she can suck me in. She needs to learn that I’m her master now. The moment I slid that stone on her older sister’s finger and Diana begged me to look after Irina too, they became mine. Irina is mine in some capacity, and I can feel my grip on her life tightening like a vise. It makes my cock painfully hard knowing she not only won’t be marrying someone of her father’s wishes, but she won’t be marrying anyone at all. Little Irina will die a pure, delicate virgin because I command it.
If I can’t have her perfect cunt, no one else can.
“Sir,” Stepan calls out, his voice sharp. It cuts through my haze and I snap my attention his way. He doesn’t hide behind cool aloofness like Vas or Viktor. Stepan wears his emotions on his goddamn sleeve. Another lesson I’ll have to teach him.
“Yes?” I challenge. He’s uncomfortable with me choking the sister of my fiancée. I can see it in his eyes. But he, of all people, knows every level of the game.
“The woman is secure.”
“Good. Make sure Father knows where she’s being kept,” I instruct.
His glare is hard, as if he’s imploring me to let Irina go. I’ll let her go when I fucking feel like it.
“You’re dismissed,” I say coldly.
He stays for a beat longer before storming from the basement. I’ll chain his ass up later and do like Father used to when the hunting hounds would misbehave. Beat them with a switch until they cried and remained forever submissive.
Some of the rage has bled from my mind and it’s then I realize both of Irina’s hands grip my wrist of the hand that’s around her throat. I’m squeezing only hard enough to keep her in place. Perhaps just hard enough to leave a purple reminder of who the hell’s in charge around here.
Instead of finding tears, I catch her staring at me. One of her hands leaves my wrist and she brushes a strand of hair that’s fallen from its gel hanging in front of my eye. The heat of her touch speaks straight to my cock. I close my eyes for a moment, relishing in her touch, before I let out a heavy sigh and release her.
“Your duty is to train these women. Diana will be busy doing things I’ll ask of her, but this is something you can do. Teach them how to act like a lady. Show them how to dress and behave. Make them take a goddamn bath.” I straighten my coat and let my gaze rake over her trembling frame. The blood smeared on her face makes her look even sexier. Images of puncturing her skin with my knife and smearing her blood all over her perfect, young tits has me nearly coming in my slacks.
“If I don’t,” she challenges, her voice raspy and hoarse.
I raise a brow at her. “Be a good girl. Your studio awaits you.”
She purses her lips, but doesn’t argue. And when I toss the keys at her, she catches them and pushes them into her pocket.
“I expect you’ll be presentable by dinner?” I question, no inflection in my voice. “We’ll have many guests attending tonight.”
Her gaze flits over to the corpse behind me and she swallows. “Yes.”
“Don’t wear anything risqué. I know your sister worries about your virtue.”
A flaming in her blue eyes is the only reaction she rewards me.
With a tip of my head, I leave sweet little Irina in charge of fourteen whores and a corpse.