"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"The people who wound me get no say in how I clean up the blood."-
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The snow in Moscow never felt soft.
Kaia stepped out of the black SUV and into the sting of the wind like she was walking into a war. The courtyard of the Bratva's new stronghold was deceptively quiet—crunching gravel, frostbitten air, the faint scent of cigar smoke curling somewhere behind the heavy oak doors. Two guards stood flanking the entrance in long black coats, guns visible, expressions unreadable.
She adjusted the cuffs of her gloves, eyes scanning the building like it might grow fangs.
Inside, warmth hit her like a punch. Marble. Velvet. The echo of boots on stone. Nothing about the interior said Bratva—it whispered royalty in low, haunting tones. And at the head of that kingdom, Alexei Ivanov waited.
He stood in the long hall beside a tall man Kaia didn't recognize. Younger, sharp-featured, dangerous in a quiet way—Damien Petrov. She knew him intimately, of course. Her asset. Her eyes and ears beneath the Bratva's surface. But today, she barely glanced at him.
Today, she played the diplomat.
"Kaia," Alexei greeted, his voice smooth as ever. "You're early."
"I had time to kill," she replied, voice like glass. Not sharp. Not soft.
Alexei gestured to the parlor behind him. "Let's talk."
The fire crackled, untouched. No warmth came from it—just illusion. The kind Kaia knew well.
"You've inherited a bloody throne," she said as she took a seat, folding one leg over the other, spine straight. "Congratulations."
Alexei gave a small smile, one that didn't reach his pale eyes. "Inherited is generous. Viktor left a mess. I'm cleaning up."
Damien poured the tea and said nothing. Good. He knew his role.
"I'm offering stability," Alexei continued. "And my alliance—renewed, amended, and strengthened. We've worked well before, Kaia. I'd like to continue that."
She tilted her head slightly. "What do you get out of it?"
"I get to survive the next ten years without your blade in my back," he said, smiling again. "And I get access. To you. To your resources. To the information your King pretends not to know."
Kaia sipped her tea, unfazed. "And what do I get?"
Alexei didn't blink. "You get someone else watching your blind spots. Someone cleaning house on your behalf. Whoever is trying to kill you—it's not just assassins. It's rats. Moles. Someone feeding intel. Someone close."
Her gaze didn't flicker, but her silence said enough.
She never told anyone outside the King's inner circle about the attempts on her life. Alexei just outed himself.
