Chapter 7

The morning sun had barely risen when Mikhail, Luciano, and a handful of the most loyal enforcers left the mansion. Their destination was Sergei’s hideout, a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The drive was tense, filled with an unspoken anticipation of the violence to come. Mikhail’s expression was cold and determined, his mind focused on the task at hand. Luciano, seated beside him, was equally resolute, his eyes reflecting the promise of brutal retribution.

They arrived at the warehouse just as the first rays of light pierced the horizon. The building was surrounded by overgrown weeds and rusting machinery, a testament to its abandonment. Sergei had chosen this place for its seclusion, but today, it would become his tomb.

“Stay sharp,” Mikhail ordered as they exited the vehicles, their footsteps echoing ominously against the concrete. They moved with the precision of seasoned hunters, weapons ready, senses alert.

The entrance to the warehouse was unguarded, a sign of Sergei’s overconfidence. Mikhail signaled for his men to spread out and surround the building. With a nod from Luciano, they kicked open the door and stormed inside. The interior was slightly lit, with a stick smell of dust and the smell of decay.

Sergei, caught off guard, stumbled to his feet. His eyes widened in terror as he recognized Mikhail and Luciano, and he attempted to flee. Luciano was on him in an instant, a brutal punch sending him crashing to the ground. The boys quickly restrained him, binding his hands and forcing him to his knees.

“Please, I didn’t mean to—” Sergei’s pleas were cut short by a savage backhand from Mikhail.

“Silence,” Mikhail hissed. “You dared to insult Lord Marino . You dared to question his authority. Now, you will pay the price.”

They dragged Sergei to the center of the warehouse, tying him to a rusted metal chair. Mikhail walked around him, the air crackling with his barely contained rage. He picked up a length of iron pipe, tapping it thoughtfully against his palm.

“You know why we’re here, Sergei,” Mikhail said, his voice cold and emotionless. “You brought this upon yourself.”

Without another word, Mikhail swung the pipe, connecting with Sergei’s knee. The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the warehouse, followed by Sergei’s agonized scream. Luciano stepped forward, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he delivered a series of punches to Sergei’s ribs, each blow eliciting a fresh cry of pain.

“You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Luciano taunted. “You thought you could challenge Marino and live?”

Sergei’s only response was a choked sob. Mikhail continued his relentless assault, targeting Sergei’s other knee, shattering it with another powerful swing. Blood flowed freely, pooling around the chair. The boys took turns, their methods varied but equally brutal. A knife appeared in one of their hands, the blade flashing as it cut deep into Sergei’s flesh.

They carved patterns of pain across his chest and arms, each slice a reminder of his betrayal. Luciano produced a blowtorch, the flame casting eerie shadows on the walls as he brought it close to Sergei’s face. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, mingling with Sergei’s tortured screams.

“Enough,” Mikhail finally said, his voice commanding. The boys stepped back, breathing heavily from their exertions. Sergei was barely recognizable, his body a broken, bloody mess. Mikhail knelt beside him, grabbing a handful of his hair and forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Remember this, Sergei,” Mikhail whispered. “This is what happens to those who defy us.”

With that, Mikhail drew his gun and pressed it to Sergei’s forehead. There was a moment of silence, then a deafening gunshot. Sergei’s body slumped lifelessly, the final act of retribution complete.

The warehouse fell silent, the echoes of violence fading into the stillness. Mikhail stood, wiping the blood from his hands. “Clean this up,” he ordered his men. “ Send a message to anyone else who thinks they can cross us.”

As they left the warehouse, Luciano turned and threw a bomb into the building. Seconds later, the building blew up instantly, leaving no evidence behind.

★★★ BLOODY SINNERS ★★★

That's the name of his mansion.

Amelia Earhart had just returned from a two-month mission, and her body was weary, but her spirit was as fierce as ever. The private jet touched down, and she wasted no time making her way to Vlad’s chambers. Her presence commanded respect and fear, a testament to her ruthless efficiency and unwavering loyalty to Vlad. She walked with purpose, her eyes cold and calculating.

As she entered Vlad’s chambers, a strange scent hit her nostrils. Her werewolf senses immediately detected the lingering presence of another woman. Anger flared within her, a possessive rage that she kept carefully hidden behind her icy exterior. She knew Vlad had been with a slave, and it infuriated her. She had killed many before for less, ensuring that no one else could touch what she considered hers.

Vlad was sitting at his desk, reviewing documents when she walked in. His blue eyes met hers, and a faint smirk played on his lips. He knew the effect he had on her, and he enjoyed it.

“Amelia,” he greeted, his voice smooth and commanding. “How did the mission go?”

“It was a success, Boss” she replied, her tone clipped but respectful. “We eliminated the targets and secured the shipment. No casualties on our side.”

“Good,” Vlad said, leaning back in his chair. “You never disappoint, Amelia.”

Amelia’s heart ached at his praise. She had fallen in love with him, but she knew better than to reveal her feelings. In Vlad’s world, emotions were a weakness, and she couldn’t afford to be weak.

“Thank you, Boss,” she said, forcing a smile. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Vlad shook his head. “Not at the moment. Rest up. You’ve earned it.”

As she turned to leave, her mind was already racing. She needed to find out who the slave was. The strange scent was still fresh, and it wouldn’t be hard to track her down.

Amelia made her way to the slave quarters, her presence causing a wave of fear to ripple through the room. The slaves knew her well, and they had every reason to fear her. She was known for her cruelty, especially towards those who had caught Vlad’s eye.

“Where is she?” Amelia demanded, her voice cold and sharp. The slaves cowered, glancing nervously at one another. Finally, one of them pointed towards a corner where April was trying to make herself invisible.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed as she approached April. The girl’s scent was unmistakable. Without a word, she grabbed April by the hair and dragged her out of the room, ignoring the terrified whispers and gasps of the other slaves.

April cried out in pain, struggling to keep up as Amelia hauled her through the halls and down into the basement. The dark, damp space was where Amelia dealt with anyone who dared to touch what was hers. She threw April into the room, the door slamming shut behind them.

Amelia stood over April, her eyes blazing with fury. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

April nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, ma’am. Please, I didn’t mean to—”

“Silence!” Amelia snapped, her hand striking April across the face. “You had the audacity to touch Marino. Do you think you’re special? Do you think you deserve him?”

April shook her head, sobbing. “No, I don’t. Please, I—”

Amelia didn’t let her finish. She pulled a knife from her belt and held it to April’s throat. “You’re nothing. Just another slave. And you need to learn your place.”

She dragged the blade across April’s skin, leaving a thin line of blood. April whimpered, her body trembling with fear. Amelia’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She enjoyed this—the power, the control. It was intoxicating.

Amelia began to cut more deeply, leaving painful, bleeding wounds on April’s arms and legs. April’s cries filled the basement, but no one would come to help her. No one dared to cross Amelia.

“Do you know what happens to slaves who touch my Marino?” Amelia hissed, her face close to April’s. “They die. Slowly and painfully.”

She threw April to the ground and kicked her in the ribs, feeling a grim satisfaction at the sound of bones breaking. April gasped for breath, her vision blurring from the pain.

Amelia continued her assault, using every tool at her disposal to torture April. Whips, knives, and her own fists—she used them all with expert precision. April’s body was soon covered in cuts and bruises, her blood staining the floor.

Finally, Amelia stood back, breathing heavily. April lay motionless, barely conscious. Amelia’s heart pounded with exhilaration, but she knew she couldn’t kill April without Vlad’s permission. For now, the girl would live—but only barely.

She knelt down beside April, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up. “Remember this,” she said, her voice a deadly whisper. “You are nothing. And if you ever go near my Marino again, I will finish what I started.”

With that, she stood and left the basement, locking the door behind her. As she walked away, she felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. She had made her point, and the slave would never forget it.

********

April lay on the cold, hard floor, her body wracked with pain. She could barely move, every breath a struggle. She thought of her aunt and cursed the woman for selling her into this hell. She had endured so much, but this—this was beyond anything she had ever experienced.

Tears mingled with blood as she cried silently, praying for the torment to end. She didn’t know how long she could survive in this place, surrounded by monsters. The other slaves had warned her about Amelia, but she had never imagined such cruelty.

As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she remembered the distant sounds of the male slave quarters. Screams and cries echoed through the halls, a grim reminder of the constant danger they all faced. She thought of the wolf she had seen, its mouth dripping with blood, and shuddered. They were all at the mercy of the beasts.

Eventually, the basement door creaked open, and Viktor, a guard and worker, entered. His face was expressionless as he looked down at April. Without a word, he picked her up and carried her back to the slave quarters, dumping her unceremoniously on the floor.

The other slaves rushed to her side, their faces filled with sympathy and fear. They knew better than to speak of what had happened, but their eyes said it all. April had survived—for now. But in this world of darkness and brutality, survival was a fleeting thing.

April lay there, her body broken but her spirit still flickering with a tiny flame of hope. She had to stay strong, to endure. For as long as she lived, there was a chance—no matter how small—that she could escape this nightmare.

But as she closed her eyes, she knew one thing for certain: she would never forget the cold, merciless eyes of Amelia. And she would never forget the pain that had been inflicted upon her.

Can't Amelia understand who Vlad is? Gosh!!! April has suffered in the hands of this monsters but can she escape???