𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍 [18+] (#0.5)✔️

9: Requiem

This chapter is a bit short.

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"They yearn what they fear for."- Dante Alleighiri, Inferno

Lenin Cardashiev was only 10 when he was taken in by the Bratva.

His mom was a whore in a sodden, dark brothel; when she was found dead in her cold chamber, a broken bottle of vodka laid next to her.

He remembers thinking it would have been great if he died along with his mom. His 2 warm meals were gone and he roamed about the streets of Russia, cold, alone and hungry with only a torn and dusty shawl at his disposal.

Then Something amazing happened.

"A small job you need to do," The middle aged man had promised him, "Pull the trigger on that man and I will take you in as one of ours."

Hunger does not know morals. Especially to a boy of ten who had just lost his mother. Morals do not make sense, especially when death is as futile as life itself.

His fingers did not tremble, neither had he shivered from fear.

20 years have passed since that day.

Lenin likes to reminisce about the day his humane part died along with his mother. Hunger made him depraved and it seems that the same hunger only keeps growing as he grows old.

Like a dark void within himself.

"Papa, look at this!" His son holds up a piece of paper filled with colours. He only smiles at him, patting his head.

Despite his reluctance, his eyes keep wandering off to his watch. The gnarly impatience grips his soul in a tight grasp.

His phone rings. He knows the caller. He had been waiting for that call.

The one whose hand didn't tremble while holding a gun, falters a bit while receiving the call.

He runs a hand over his face.

"Lenin," The pakhan says in Russian from the other side, "I am to attend the ball hosted by the Victors tonight. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes, sir," He replies, "I was wondering if I have the rest of the day off today?"

"You do," The Pakhan replies nonchalantly.

A prolonged beep from the other side tells him the call has ended.

A shaky breath leaves him. He carefully tucks his phone in the pocket.

The hunger consumes him, sacrilegious and potent. A glance at his oblivious son and closes his eyes.

He is about to betray the family that has fed him for 20 years.

The subtlest hint of guilt hits him but he shakes that feeling away. He knows he cannot have what he truly desires if he remains in the Bratva. The Genovese family is offering him that one thing he had been wanting.

The hunger blinds him as he thinks about it. It was depraved, immoral and generally punishable by death.

He tried suppressing his desires but it was futile, it only consumed him more.

The Bratva has given him everything, his wife, his kid, a roof over his head. The one thing it could not give him was-

"Papa!" His son calls out after him, "Are you going somewhere?"

"I will be back soon, dear," He smiles, "Soon."

He is, after all, already depraved. He would be going to hell anyway.

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The pakhan, for the life of him, cannot figure out where his trusty security chief had disappeared.

The grandiose music pours through the extravagant lobby. The redemption angel statue stares at him as he stands in the middle of the ballroom.

"Mr. Victor will be appearing today," Uriel, his second in command, says, "The CC cameras are dead, as you have predicted."

The statue, however, seems strangely alive to him. Alive and breathing.

"Uriel," The Pakhan commanded, "Deploy some of our assassins at both front and back gates. Something tells me Lenin will not be coming back tonight, not alone anyway."

The dreary cold night screams into void, snowflakes crashing against the large glass dome.

"Pakhan?"

The pakhan takes out his gloves, fastening them around his fingers. His instinct tells him something big is going to happen, and he has never ignored his instincts.

"I know when I smell death, Uri," He smirks, "And this place reeks of it."

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Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter . Sorry for the short update but I promise it is for a reason. We will get the Pakhan's POV soon.