𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 • 04 || ❝𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠❞

>𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

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𝐊 𝐑 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐈 𝐀 𝐍 • 𝐏 𝐄 𝐓 𝐑 𝐎 𝐕

I stand against the doorframe in the warehouse basement and watch my dear cousin Leonid beat up this American strapped to the oak chair. Usually, people would assume that an oak chair could easily be broken, but luckily for us, this is the most expensive chair with all its contraptions. "Still not talking?" The growl from my cousin erupts throughout the whole of the basement. I can feel the frustration building up in this room. If it isn't coming from me, it's coming from Leonid.

I watch as Leonid applies the brass knuckles over his fingers, to then quickly swing for our victim's face. I call him a victim, but really, he's the one who stole for us, or know who has. "Talk." I demand and watch as the aggression just builds in Leonid's eyes as if this guy is his prize.

But there is no word spoken amongst the silent atmosphere.

"I'll let you take it from here." I tap my cousin's shoulder and begin to walk away, knowing full well that our man in the chair will soon be a puddle of body parts and blood on the floor.

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"I apologise Cian, the second crate I sent has been stolen from an American. I was hoping this surprise would be comforting. I'll get another one sent tomorrow." I leave the voice message and stand up from my desk. I know Cian isn't one to care often if items don't arrive, but who expects something and doesn't receive it? I'd be pretty pissed if that was me.

I receive a knock on my door a few seconds after gathering myself together. "Come in."

The door opens widely to reveal Leonid's broad shoulders. His brown hair is now all out of place with the leftover blood splatters on his face.

"Did you get anything from him?" I raise my brow, but I know that the guy we had locked in that chair no longer is alive. By seeing the expression on my cousin's face, he looks satisfied.

"Nope." He says shortly.

"Der'mo." [Shit] Leonid was usually the one who was able to keep a man alive for days with torture, today he clearly couldn't be bothered which didn't work out in my favour.

We've gotten no further; this is one thing that is becoming a problem for the Bratva. No one is talking, no matter our torture techniques. However, I must say that I'm quite impressed, "Drink?" I offer but all I receive is a shrug of the shoulders.

Leonid doesn't speak much, never has since he was young. Leonid grunts, shrugs and had a habit of using short sentences. Any more than three words in one sentence is a sense of achievement for us all.

We both sit down and have a glass of whiskey, I've always been close to my cousin, since our fathers were brothers, we were always around one another, and Leonid? He had a great family. Parents who loved him, parents who praised him and took care of him. He was lucky in that respect, but so was I. They treated me as if I was one of their own. My mother was perfect, so there were no problems there. But, deep down, I knew she despised me in some places. I was a spitting image of my father, and acted like him in some places too.

I bring the rim of the glass to my lips and wash away my memories of my mother and father, nothing is worse than thinking about something you never had. Care, love...family. But that just makes it easier not to miss, you can't miss what you've never had. Leonid coughs to get my attention, I don't know how long I was daydreaming for, but he knows.

"It's all good brat." [Brother]

We take a few more sips of our whiskey before the door flies open with aggression. Leonid and I both turn and watch as Maxim attempts to catch his breath.

"Maxim, everything okay?" I stand and Maxim shakes his head, having his hand clutching onto his chest. "The camera system has been hacked, we tried tracking it. But we don't know who it is boss." He spits his words out which only makes my blood boil. What is wrong with these people fucking everything up? No one can hack into our system, it's too good. Too powerful. Who can manage that? I run my hands over my face and groan in frustration.

"Whoever it is can cover their tracks good and proper. We're dealing with someone almost professional."

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Hours have past and I can't get my head around who would do this, it isn't the American's. They work closely as a team, never singularly. This is an individual piece of work. Maybe they've been hired by another gang, but the question is who?

First, the surprise crate for the Irish has been stolen, now the cameras have been hacked. What more can happen in a span of twenty-four hours? "Uh, sir?" I hear a light knock on the door and turn slightly. Seeing Polina's smile in the doorway.

"There is a parcel for you in the living room, it has fragile written all over the box, so I assume it requires assistance now." She smiles and I nod in response. I get up out of my chair that probably now has an indent of my arse. I've sat in that chair more times than usual, and the chair isn't even that comfy.

I stroll through the mansion and find the large box on the table with large capital letters smothering the entirety of the box.

I read the small envelope on top of the box.

Mr Kristian Petrov,

Here is the piece you wanted.

Enjoy

-Anna

Bloody woman, even in her writing I can tell she is a nightmare to be around, and very annoying no doubt. I open the box which is covered bottom to top with bubble wrap and tissue paper, I remove the wrapping and unveil the artwork. St Petersburg is a beautiful building, but staring at the paint work makes it look even more amazing and real. I begin to gaze around the room to find a space where it would best be suited. But struggle. I find Polina walking past with trays in her hand.

"Polina." I gain her attention straight away.

She turns and begins to speak, "Yes sir?"

"Where do you think this would look best?" I show her the painting and her eyes sparkle.

"That is beautiful sir, I suggest putting it in an area loads of people would see it. Maybe your office or living room?" She suggests. It gets me thinking, that is where most people find me, and that is the place where most people around the world come to.

"Perfect." I smile and thank Polina, letting her carry on with whatever it was she was doing.

Walking back to my office was a slow mission, I pass Maxim, Leonid and Jace. Talking to each one of them.

I warned Jace that he should keep Nadia far away from the mansion for now, since our security has been hacked it's best that a child isn't in the building just in case shit goes down. He agreed fully, he didn't seem too comfortable when I brought up someone had hacked the cameras, if they can hack that, what else could they hack?

I shake the questions out of my mind, I usually take things as they come, deal with them once they happen. But my gut is telling me that this is something different, something bigger than what it seems. I finally make it back into my office and hang the art on the wall behind my desk, now everyone can see it when they are sitting opposite me. I stare at it for a few moments looking at each brush stroke.

Then, my mind travels to the copper fox that ran after me on the night of her exhibition. The way her freckles were sprinkled over her nose and the tips of her cheeks. Her smile with pearls for teeth and that long copper hair. I observe the art further to then receive silence.

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I finally dragged myself out of the shower, I didn't want to escape the warm, but I had to at some point. I stroll into my room and watch as the water evaporates from my body, allowing the steam to flow out into the air and condensate the mirrors.

Sighing I look into the long mirror in front of me, I rough up my hair with a smaller towel, letting my hair spike up and hopefully encourage it to dry. It's ten o'clock, I'm usually in bed at around midnight, but tonight the fatigue has hit me, hard. And to be honest, I don't think the whiskey I've had helps, maybe I should calm my consumption down before I become an alcoholic.

I sigh and put my boxers on over my half slippery body.

My blackout curtains encourage my room to be trapped with warmth. I open my duvet and wrap myself up with the black cotton fabric, tucking myself in and getting my head comfy on the feathery pillow.

I told my men I was heading off early. So at least they know not to disturb me unless they really need to. My eyes begin to get heavier the second I'm comfy, they roll further until all I can see is darkness.

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I briefly check my alarm clock before rolling back to sleep, I don't know why I woke up so suddenly at two in the morning, my body was exhausted and so was my mind, so this didn't make sense, but dread fills me as I come to realise the lack of time I have left to sleep.

But I ignore the urge to re-check the clock, I close my eyes again.

The erupt feeling of cold washed across my body and face, I didn't open my eyes, I couldn't be bothered. But the cold grew closer and closer and then suddenly came to a stop. Then the air got warmer and warmer, and a smell of mandarin and vanilla washed up my nostrils.

I decide not to move, but the air begins to thin out and there I decide to open my eyes. I can't see much; I can only see a small person in dark clothes. But they're suddenly knocked onto the floor while I begin to strain them with my hands tightening around theirs at their lower back, they drop a small knife next to them because of my tight grip.

Fucker tried to kill me.