Victor
The club's shadows felt like home. The pulsing music, the low hum of voices, the clinking of glasses. None of it fazes me anymore. My mind's somewhere else entirely, locked in the hunt. The rat. The snake in the grass. The one who's been feeding our enemies and throwing everything we built into jeopardy.
I ran my hand over the polished wood of the bar, eyes scanning the room. Business was closing in. And it was closing in fast. My men are tightening the noose. Every whisper, every look, every slip-up, it was all a clue. The traitor didn't know it yet, but the walls were closing in.
A knock on the back door draws my attention. Sergei, my right hand, stepped in, grim-faced.
"Victor, we've got something," he said, sitting in front of me. "Elena was talking to one of Petrov's men last night. Too friendly, if you ask me."
Petrov. My half-brother. The one who could be starting all of this. After all, he was my father's heir. I'd do everything to take my claim back.
"Did you confront her?"
"No. Not yet," he sighed. "I wanted to run it by you first."
"Good. Keep her close," I nod. "Watch for anything out of place. If she's playing us, she's going to slip up."
Sergei's eyes flicker with the weight of what we're up against.
"You know this isn't just some mole anymore, Victor. It's someone with access. Someone who knows everything and now that we know who might behind all of this."
"If my brother's the one pulling all the strings, I'll deal with him." I said, now pacing the length of the office, dark thoughts gnawing at me.
"Victor, because he is your brother, your blood, it's not up to you to deal with it. It's up to the-"
"It's because of the council that he's the way he is," I said, cutting him off. "When his mother was alive, they always told him and reminded him that he was my father's heir, but because he didn't have a sister, he couldn't keep it. If it is him – and I hope it's not – giving him to the council is just sending him to death."
"Then let's say it's not him," Sergei said. "It's not him, then you and he has a rat."
Trust is a currency I don't have to spare anymore. Every man I've counted on could be the one stabbing me in the back. And if they find out I'm onto them, it's not just me who'll pay. Zara, Selene, and everyone connected to me are at risk.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I didn't need to look to know it was her. I glanced down at her response.
Noted. Trying not to lose my mind from your sister.
I closed my eyes for a moment. I hated leaving her out of the loop, but some things she couldn't know. Not yet.
The scent of garlic and something sweet hits me the second I walk through the door. It's warm and calming and has no business belonging in my world. Not where I've been all day. But here I am. It's like a reminder that maybe, just maybe, I can have something good.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I pause. Listening. There's this soft humming. Off-key. No rhythm. It's awful yet somehow perfect.
I toss my keys on the counter and follow the noise like a man being led by scent and sound alone.
Zara's in the kitchen, barefoot in one of my t-shirts. The same navy one she always took when we were younger. Her hair is piled messily on top of her head with one of those claw clips. She's swaying to music that isn't even playing, a wooden spoon in her hand as she stirs something in a pot like she's a contestant on a cooking show and not in the house of a man who killed someone last week.
She hasn't noticed me yet.
I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms, watching.
Her hips do a little shimmy.
I cough, causing her to freeze mid-stir, mid-shimmy, mid-horribly-off-humming.
"Jesus Christ," she yelped, clutching her chest. "You're like a damn ghost, Victor!"
"And you cook like you're trying to summon one."
"You ungrateful bastard," she gasped. "I am making you dinner!"
I walk over to her and glance into the pot.
"What is it?"
"It was going to be penne alla vodka," she said, flipping the spoon around and pointing it at me like a weapon. "But now it's revenge soup."
"Revenge soup, huh? That sounds dangerous," I chuckled, feeling something untwist in my chest for the first time all day. "Should I call my lawyer before tasting it?"
Zara rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, stirring. "You laugh now but just wait until you get hit with a wave of emotional trauma and garlic indigestion at the same time."
I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. Her body relaxes into me instantly, and I let myself breathe her in. She smells like tomatoes, my cologne, and whatever overpriced shampoo she guilt-tripped Selene into buying for her last week.
"You're warm," I murmur into her neck.
"That's because I've been slaving over this stove like a 1950s housewife," she snorts. "If you're expecting me to vacuum in heels next, you're going to be disappointed."
"I'd rather see you in heels with nothing else on." I said, kissing the back of her neck.
Zara swats at me with the spoon, but I dodge. "You're disgusting."
"And I've had a long day."
"Clearly."
I released her and took a seat at the kitchen island, watching her move around.
"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she grates fresh Parmesan cheese.
"You're just…" I hesitate. "Good at this."
"Cooking?"
I nod.
"Are you saying I'd make a good wife, Victor?"
"You trying to make me propose with pasta?"
"I'm just saying, you could do a lot worse."
"I already decided a long time ago there's no one better." I hummed, leaning back in my chair. I hum, leaning back in my chair.
That stops her. She doesn't say anything for a while but just stares at the pot and stirs slowly. It's quiet, except for the simmer of the sauce and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
"Your day," she started. "Was it bad?"
"Productive," I said, exhaling through my nose. "Got closer to the rat I'm sure your brother told you about."
"Is everything okay?"
For a long time, I just stared at her. How was I supposed to tell her my half-brother might have something to do what's going on? Was everything okay? I don't know and I sure as hell couldn't tell her, but I couldn't lie to her. I needed to make sure what I was playing at.
"For now, everything is fine." I said, instead.
The timer on the oven goes off, making her jump a little. She then hurries to pull out a tray of what I assume are garlic bread. She sets everything on the table, plates it like we're in a restaurant and even lights a candle. Lighting the mood, luckily.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" I asked as she handed me a plate.
"No," she giggled. "If I wanted to seduce you, I'd be wearing that red dress you as liked when we were younger and sitting on the table instead of setting it."
"Keep talking like that and we're skipping dinner." I said as my body tenses in the best way possible.
"We're not skipping dinner," she said as she brings two glasses of wine to the table, handing me one. "You need carbs. You look like you haven't eaten all day."
"That's because I haven't."
We sat. We ate. We talk about nothing. Anything actually. We talked about wedding stuff, Selene's meltdown over veil choices, my mom crying in the store like she saw a litter of puppies die. And when this should've made me laugh along with Zara, it only added to my fear.
Because it meant I have something to lose now.
Someone.
Zara.
"Vic," she called out, taking me from my thoughts. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
"I can't tell you that," I said as I watched my phone light up from a text from Sergei. "How things are right now, it's hard to tell."
"Well, is there anything that I can do to help?" she asked, as I turned my phone off.
"The only thing that I need for you to do," I said as Sergei calls me. "Is-"
"It might be important, Victor," she said, taking my hand. "You should answer it."
My men knew that if I'm anywhere with Zara to not call me no matter what. That's why I have a right hand. He's supposed to take charge when I'm not there, but with this rat and my aunt Elena started something I don't know how to control, I guess I have no choice.
Before I could answer the call, the front door swung open with both Sergei and one of his men walking in. Taking one look at Zara and I, he points to my office door and walks in. Sighing, I turned to her and see the spark that there was when I came in, die out as she looked down at her plate for a second.
"You should-"
"I'll make it up to you." I said as she stood up to take our half-finished plates.
"How," she asked. "By showering me with gifts then going back off to do work?"
"Zara."
"It's fine," she lied. "I'll be fine."
"Zara." I said, now standing.
"Just... go," she whispered. "You have things to take care of."
Before I could say anything else, Zara was already walking off. I watched her put our food in containers and walked off upstairs.
There were things that I had to take care of, yes, but ever since I was named heir to my father, I have been taking care of things. There were times where I wanted to give everything up and be with her. To have something with her, but I couldn't.
Sighing, I walked to my office to see what Sergei had found.
"This better be worth it," I said as Sergei hands me an envelope with no words exchanged.
Tearing it open, inside there was a photo. A photo I've seen earlier today. My aunt Elena with one of Petrov's men. But there was something new. A note.
She's meeting them tonight.
I crushed the photo in my fist. Elena has been loyal to my family. To her family.
"Sergei," I said, voice low and hard, "Get the everyone ready."
Back at the club, I watched as my men geared up. Guns tucked away, knives strapped, eyes sharp.
"This has to end," I said, staring at the wall. "No more leaks. No more surprises. My aunt or whoever is the rat or working with the rat will pay."
"We'll find them." Sergei said.
Minutes moved by like hours. My phone buzzed with a message from an informant. Someone that Sergei trusts and because I trust him, I'll trust anyone that he does.
Elena will be at the old warehouse on the docks in an hour.
I tightened my jacket, feeling the weight of what was coming settle over me like a storm.