Ilian
The city stretched beneath me in muted tones, a restless animal coiled under the weight of the storm. From the glass wall that caged my penthouse, I traced a steel blade dulled to black under swollen skies. The streets below pulsed faintly, headlights smeared in lines, their glow smothered by clouds pressing low, heavy with rain. The air carried that sharp edge before a downpour, the metallic promise of lightning.
Gloria Vance haunted the edges of my mind again. That night in the library. the dust, the silence, her gaze tilting upward beneath her lashes. I had held myself back, gripped the thread of restraint so tightly it nearly cut through me. My hands had ached to hold her cheeks, kiss her 'till she was out of breath.
Denial left its own kind of ache, worse than indulgence.
My phone buzzed as Kai's name lit up on the screen.
I answered. His voice came clipped, but beneath it, hesitation coiled. My jaw tightened.
Kai never hesitated.
"The syndicate's too still," he said. "I don't like it. Dmitri's vanished from sight."
I turned from the window, eyes narrowing. "Vanished?"
"Not idle. Just… watching. He hasn't moved this quietly since before the Odessa fires. Men are restless. Something's coming."
The mafia empire. No matter how many times I told myself I had walked away, it still chained itself to me. I didn't wear my father's crown, but the weight of his businesses, his blood-soaked legacy, rested in my hands all the same.
Abandonment was impossible. These people were mine, whether I claimed them or not.
A few network circles in Moscow still reported to me because they disliked Dmitri's approach. After I abandoned Russia, some of the family members were starving and being tortured to death, and burdened with the Mafia's debt.
One of them had found me years ago and begged with their lives to manage the business discreetly.
"What do you think he's waiting for?" I asked.
Another pause. Then, softer: "Something worth moving for."
That was when I heard it in him—the edge. Not fear, exactly, but something close. Kai feared nothing, not fire, not bullets. For him to hesitate meant Dmitri was circling closer than I wanted to admit.
I exhaled slowly. "Put men near Gloria," I ordered. "At a distance. She can't notice."
"Tomorrow," Kai said, and the line cut dead.
Gloria again. Always pulled into the center of fire. I pocketed the phone and left the glass wall behind. If I were going to speak to her properly and warn her, at least today had to be the day.
The elevator carried me down to the lobby, all marble and glass, the storm's shadow spilling through the high windows. Outside, my driver had the car waiting, the black sedan idling against the curb.
I slid inside.
Rain began to spit against the windshield as we moved. My reflection in the window stared back, sharp, unforgiving. I thought again of the library, of Gloria's breath catching in the silence, of my own restraint snapping thread by thread.
"Ugh," I groaned and threw my head back in the seat. "Контроль, Валевский. Контроль." I said to myself.
By the time the school rose into view, the rain had thickened, drumming steadily against the glass. The driver slowed. I stepped out into the storm's breath and walked toward the building.
------
When I stepped into the boardroom later, the air shifted. They were all already seated, scattered around the long table. The scrape of chairs nearly echoed when I entered, several half-rising as if instinct demanded it. I sat, folding myself into one of the chairs, watching the flicker of relief as they sank back into place.
Perhaps they knew. Perhaps whispers of who I was had crawled through the cracks of this school.
Mikhail Valevsky's son, the name itself could bend spines if spoken in the right rooms. Whether they tried to hide it or not didn't matter. I hated to acknowledge it, but...
The fear was useful.
The principal cleared his throat, began his routine monologue about performance, deadlines, and budgets. His words blurred into static, my focus narrowing. A prickle dragged at the back of my neck. Someone watching.
I looked up.
Ms. Briar.
Her gaze clung to me, bold until it wasn't. Right. I had almost forgotten about this blackmailing little parasite.
Her lips parted as if she'd speak, but my stare pinned her still. I let the full weight of my disgust settle in my glare. She faltered, eyes dropping to her papers, fingers trembling against the pen.
Pathetic.
The meeting dragged itself to a close, chairs scraping, voices murmuring as they collected their things. Outside, the storm pressed heavier against the city, rain hammering the roof, thrumming through the halls of the school.
I rose, leaving the principals and faculty behind, moving with the calm fury of a predator. My own treasure waited somewhere in this labyrinth of polished floors and lockers.
I finally saw her. Gloria Vance, back turned to me, was standing with Nina. But as I approached them, I realised something was wrong. Nina's smile didn't reach her eyes. Her lips quivered, tear-bright, but she tried to keep her composure.
Gloria stepped forward, arms wrapping around her friend in a brief hug. Then she turned to leave the hallway.
I followed immediately, eyes sharp. Her bag swung lightly, but where was she going? Classes hadn't ended. My gaze swept to her locker, and it was empty.
In a blur, I closed the distance and appeared before her. She stared, eyes wide, breath catching. The surprise flickered and shifted quickly to anger, a flare that made my chest tighten.
"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice steady, though tension coiled in every syllable.
Her whisper was sharp and bitter: "None of your business." She brushed past me, a dagger in motion, moving toward the gate.
The hallway betrayed me. A cluster of girls surged, grabbing papers, asking questions. Their bodies were shoving themselves on me.
Their voices were a cacophony demanding me. History wasn't complicated, yet here they were. The breaks had been sacred for this reason: stepping outside class meant being mobbed by the students.
I forced my way through them, a cordon of chaos, heart hammering. Each second was a countdown. Each step brought a new worry. What is she thinking now?
Everything was fine till now. Why was her anger directed so bitterly towards me? I exited the school.
Thunder grumbled like a beast overhead, but I didn't care. The rain soaked through my jacket.
And then I saw her, finally. She was moving toward the gate, each step deliberate, as though she carried the weight of the world in her small frame. My hand shot out, gripping her wrist, spinning her to face me.
Her books tumbled and fell to the ground. Her umbrella slipped from her grasp, and rain instantly soaked us both. Fire burned in her eyes, refusing to dim despite the storm.
She looked at me as if I had sinned too great to name.
"What… what are you doing? Where are you going?" I demanded, voice low, cutting through the rain.
She looked away for a second. I took a step forward as she took two back. "I'm leaving the school, sir."
I frowned, trying to swallow her words. "What?" Rain blurred my vision. "Why now?"
It seemed as if she was trying her best not to scream as her chest heaved up and down.
Her lips trembled, then she exploded. "Do you even hear yourself?" Her voice cracked with fury and grief. "I've been trying to escape my family! Every mistake they made, every bloody legacy—and now you… You won't leave me alone! You're tied to it, too! All this time… you! And you're hunting me like I'm just another chess piece in your revenge!"
She spat the words like fire, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Do you want to kill me? Do you want revenge? Is that what this is to you?"
Her breath hitched. She wiped her tears roughly across her face and stepped back, voice steady and cutting:
"Stay the fuck away from me, Ilian Valevsky."
The words struck deeper than any blade. My mouth opened, then closed. I closed my eyes tightly. Nico must have brainwashed her. I ought to shove a dozen bullets in his head.
I could not respond. She turned, storm beating against her hair, and left, leaving books and an umbrella scattered across the wet ground.
I moved toward them, hand outstretched, but the world shattered in a single instant.
A gunshot.
Pain ripped through my thigh. My body jerked, balance faltering. "Fuck," I grunted as my right thigh started to numb.
She spun around, eyes wide, shock mirrored in her expression.
Before she could reach me, black SUVs roared to a stop. Men poured out, fast, brutal, and relentless. They grabbed her, shoved her into the nearest vehicle. My eyes widened.
This shouldn't be happening now. Fuck no.
One gunshot wasn't so bad, but they were already moving. She struggled, screaming, voice raw with panic.
For the first time in my life, I felt fear. Pure fear.
The shot. Chyornyy Voron. I could recognise the bullet of Black Raven in my sleep. The blasted gun with poisonous bullets that only Valevsky's could use.
I barely registered it at first. Another sensation hit, a venom, creeping cold, and fire simultaneously. The poison coursed through me, twisting muscles, clouding vision, tightening my lungs.
Darkness pressed from every side.
Rain poured, thunder groaned above me, and yet the world seemed to slow.
Her screams.
Her screaming filled my head as the shadows closed in, swallowing my body, my senses, my control. The last thing I saw was her face, frantic, terrified, leaving me behind as the storm consumed us both.