𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 - 𝟏𝟖+

P R O L O G U E

N I K O L A I 

I'd never taken people seriously when they said that fate was the biggest motherfucker you'd ever encounter.

To me fate was kind.

It was generous.

Until one day it wasn't.

My wife was taken from me, shot right in front of me, a clean shot to the chest. I never got to say the last goodbye, never got a body to bury, the motherfuckers who killed her took her. For the longest time, I'd assumed it was because they didn't want to leave evidence behind, but I never understood why they left me alive.

I hadn't bothered to give it much thought. Keira was my life—the very thing that kept me alive, my driving force, she was my beacon of light until she was no longer here. All I knew was that they'd regret letting me live. A man was a weapon if used right, but a man who was dead was lethal, dangerous.

We were just any other couple, taking a night stroll in the Swiss streets of Geneva, she'd wanted to come here for the longest time, said it was the place her parents fell in love. I wished I hadn't listened to her; her parents' lucky city became my biggest nightmare.

"You're an asshole, Niko," she slapped my shoulder as she rolled her eyes and walked past me.

Tugging on her arm, I brought her back to my chest, digging my fingers in her jaw—I tilted her head to meet my eye, she narrowed her hazel eyes, challenging me.

"What have I told you about this nickname?" I arched my brow, lips tipping up into a smirk. I made her think I didn't like this nickname, but anything that came out of her mouth was gold.

"I don't remember, Niko." I suppressed a groan at her stubbornness as I pressed her into me, driving my hips into her. Desire pooled in her eyes as she bit her lips, closing the distance between our lips, her tongue sought out mine and I responded, letting her lead it for a bit.

I pulled away, and made my way to her earlobe, kissing, "You like this name so much don't you?" She hummed as my hand snaked from her back to her ass, "Well then how about we go back to the hotel, and you scream it," It wasn't a question, I was just about done with sightseeing. I didn't need to when I had the most breath-taking sight on my arm.

She didn't give me an answer; she was never allowed to. I still remembered when a black SUV pulled up, no plates. It was a man, who shot her, crimson red pooled out, covering her as the echoes of their shots rang out. I watched the life leave her eyes—her eyelashes falling over her eyes as death took her by the arm and took her under—before I was shot in the shoulder, followed by a shot to my abdomen. Pain blinded me; I didn't know if it was from my bleeding wounds or the knowledge that the love of my life might just be dead in my arms as I fought the clutches of unconsciousness, but I passed out with her in my arms.

Uncertain.

Hurt.

Shattered.

Out of so many people, fate chose us, perhaps our happiness was too much for the universe to see; maybe it liked the sight of me when I was ruined more.

When I woke up, I was blatantly informed I was the only one on the street. There was no sign of Keira. She was just gone, vanished into thin air. All I could do was ask the heavens why her; why leave me alive if it was going to steal the very essence of my life. The cops did nothing, months went by, and the murders weren't found, nor did they get her body.

My clean money and large businesses weren't enough to bribe information. I learned very soon that the pockets were filled with black money, and unless I was someone who was the puppeteer, lived in the shadows—I'd get no redemption, no vengeance.

With that epiphany, I also concluded that her murder wasn't just a petty crime—it was a well-planned game, and I needed to figure out why I'd found myself in the middle. The cost of answers was life-risking perils, but my life was no longer mine. I gave it to the woman I married, and when she died, she took away my life.

So I laid a siege.

I killed, maimed, and blackmailed for answers.

I moved back to Moscow, changed my name from Nikolai King to Nikolai Chernov. There were two reasons I took up my mother's maiden name, the first one was that Nikolai King was Keira's Niko, and he died with her. I might've been in love, but the actual reason for the change was ruthless, I'd learned that to ascend in the dark side of the world, I had to shed all the masks of humanity and embrace the evil that lived inside everyone, so I did. I became a ghost, alone and haunted by the woman who was taken from me; now I was the man who sat behind and watched the money and power slip from The Pentagon's fingers because they didn't have what I did.

Thirst for blood.

Fury to wreak havoc on all the crime cartels because somewhere one of the bastards who'd taken her were hiding.

I didn't kill to get power, I didn't sell drugs to make money. I didn't liquidate all of my assets to hide-away, I killed for revenge. I put myself in danger every day hoping to die, I gave The Pentagon a chance to come find me, and kill me.

But while I waited, more power flew through, and before I knew it, the pain of losing Keira became my drug for I'd started loving the way it hurt me. Chasing the delirious catastrophe of her memories drove me—but when the night was over—and it morphed into misery, I was back to being a ruthless bastard. Cobwebs dwelled in every corner of my heart, billowed down like curtains, leaking a crimson vile to keep me alive, the love I'd felt was poison, the circulation of blood was a melody of mayhem that lived inside me. An agony no rain could wash clean, a silvery mist no sunrise could pass. All-day I'd be the mobster who'd sworn his life away, but after midnight until sunrise—I was still hers, a broken heart that bled; a man who still lived in the memory of what he once had.

Waiting to pass my time, and see her again; hoping my crimes wouldn't keep her from coming for me when it was eventually my time.

But on my way to building a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake, I lost my heart, ripped it out, and became like them.

I was darkness.

Lethal.

Dangerous.

Corrupt.

And I didn't forget anything, I wasn't ready to forgive the world for taking her away. I was still hunting those bastards who took her, except that now I'd ascended from the prey to the predator.

I was no longer a man on a mission, I killed because I started seeing the same fear in the eyes of the motherfuckers I killed that I was sure her killers saw in mine.

Death was my fuel. Fear the gasoline to the fire of retribution inside me.

Nothing good enough.

I was a ruined man, a rotten man, the shadow, the ghost, and as of yet there was no man with the balls to kill me even with my eyes closed.

♠ ♣ ♥ ♦ 

Welcome to my new book, I hope you enjoy this new intense journey. This book is a standalone, so you don't need to read any of my other works before starting this book!

If you've come from Quintessential Dynasty, thank you for joining me on yet another adventure, I hope you fall for these characters as I have!

It's only the start but what do you think about Nikolai?

Any theories?

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