CHAPTER FOUR

I sat in the dimly lit VIP section of The Velvet Shadow, a sanctuary of shadows and secrets far removed from the pulsating music and frenetic energy of the dance floor below. With me were Yaz, my trusted second-in-command, and two of my most loyal men, Ivan and Viktor.

Our presence in this club had nothing to do with revelry or relaxation; we were here for business. The club provided a convenient meeting point, a neutral ground where deals could be made without attracting unwanted attention.

Yaz, always the joker of the group, leaned in, his voice a low rumble. "Boss, are you sure we can trust these people? I mean, they seem shady even by our standards."

I sighed, reminding myself that Yaz's scepticism was often well-founded. "Yaz, we've been doing business with them for years. They may be shady, but they're reliable. Just stick to the plan."

Our "business" tonight involved the acquisition of certain goods that we would later distribute through our network. It was a transaction that had been in the works for months, and we couldn't afford any hiccups.

As the discussion of the deal continued, Yaz, ever the incorrigible ladies' man, couldn't resist adding a touch of humor to the conversation. "After we're done here, I'm going to enjoy a drink and find a willing woman to lay with. You guys are welcome to join."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Yaz, you're incorrigible. Go ahead and enjoy yourself, but remember, we have an early start tomorrow."

Yaz grinned, unfazed by my admonishment, and playfully flipped me off. "Don't be such a buzzkill, boss. You need to loosen up once in a while."

As Yaz and the others continued to banter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with my team. These were the men I trusted with my life, the ones who had stood by my side through thick and thin. In the world we inhabited, trust was a rare commodity, and I was fortunate to have it in abundance.

But as the night wore on and our business concluded, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The shadows in The Velvet Shadow seemed to close in around us, and I couldn't escape the sense that danger lurked just beyond our sight.

I descended the stairs that led from the VIP section to the main floor of The Velvet Shadow, my gaze scanning the crowded club. It was time to return to our business upstairs, but I couldn't resist a final sweep of the room. Old habits die hard, and I had learned long ago to never let my guard down, especially in a place like this.

As I made my way toward the bar, my eyes continued to roam, assessing the patrons and gauging the atmosphere. The Velvet Shadow was a world of its own, a place where secrets were hidden in plain sight, and danger lurked just beneath the surface.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, my gaze settled on a woman who stood out like a rare gemstone. She was seated at the bar, her dark sunglasses perched atop her head, her features obscured by a wig of raven-black hair. Yet, it was impossible not to notice her.

She was breathtaking. Raven-black hair, spun like sunlight, cascaded down her back, framing a face sculpted from moonlight and shadows. Her emerald eyes, sparkling with a hint of defiance, seemed to hold galaxies within their depths. A perfectly sculpted nose tilted slightly, giving her an air of inquisitiveness, and her lips, the color of a ripe pomegranate, were curved into a subtle, enigmatic smile.

The dress she wore clung to her like a second skin, a midnight canvas showcasing every curve and dip of her form. There was an untamed elegance about her, a wild rose among cultivated lilies.

Strikingly beautiful, I thought, feeling an unfamiliar heat prickle beneath my skin. Her presence was a discordant note in the orchestrated chaos of the club, a wild melody cutting through the manufactured beats.

"Intriguing," I murmured to myself, taking a long sip of my drink. Then, before I could overthink it, I found myself crossing the dance floor, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, my voice a low rumble against the din.

She nodded, and we fell into conversation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We didn't exchange names, but the words flowed easily between us, as if we were old friends catching up in a familiar place.

As the conversation continued, she leaned in closer, her voice laced with curiosity. "Do you happen to know anything about Alexei Pushkin?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her question. "Why the interest in Pushkin?"

Her lips curled into a sly smile. "Let's just say I have my reasons."

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued. "Pushkin is not a name to be taken lightly. He's a man with connections, both in the criminal underworld and beyond. Crossing paths with him can lead to unexpected consequences."

She swallowed hard, as if my words had struck a nerve. "What kind of consequences are we talking about here?"

I hesitated for a moment, deciding to play along with her game. "People who get too close to Pushkin tend to disappear, one way or another. If you're going to dig into his life, you need to be prepared for the risks."

She nodded, her eyes locked onto mine, as if trying to decipher the truth in my words. "I appreciate the warning. But I'm not one to back away from a challenge."

I found myself genuinely intrigued by her, her determination and bravery evident in every word she spoke. "Well, I wish you luck in your investigation. Alexei Pushkin is not an easy man to unravel."

Little did she know that the man she sought answers about was right in front of her, concealed beneath layers of secrecy and intrigue. As our conversation continued, I couldn't help but wonder how deep her investigation would take her and what secrets she might uncover along the way.

As our conversation continued in the dimly lit corner of The Velvet Shadow, an air of intrigue hung between us. The woman before me was like a puzzle waiting to be solved, and I couldn't deny the attraction I felt toward her. But our exchange was abruptly interrupted by the sudden eruption of chaos within the club.

The fire of her curiosity still crackled in her eyes as we talked. Suddenly, the rhythmic pulse of the club was replaced by a discordant shriek. Glass shattered, screams ripped through the air, and the scent of gunpowder choked the room.

Chaos erupted like a dam bursting. People scrambled for cover, bodies colliding in a panicked stampede. My gaze darted around, searching for the source of the carnage. Seven figures, black silhouettes against the flashing lights, had infiltrated the club, their faces obscured by masks, their hands spitting fire.

Instinct took over. I grabbed her arm, pulling her towards a secluded alcove behind the bar. We crouched low, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Yaz's voice crackled through my earpiece, sharp and urgent. "Boss, seven gunmen. Heavy firepower. We're pinned down."

My mind raced. Seven against four, a grim equation. But fear was a luxury I couldn't afford. "Yaz, cover the back exit. I'll flank them with Viktor." My words were clipped, a commander's orders barked into the storm.

The gunmen moved with practiced efficiency, their shots echoing like thunderclaps in the confined space. Glass rained down, ricocheting off the polished floor. I saw a dancer crumple to the ground, a crimson stain blooming on her white dress, and a cold fury ignited within me.

She trembled beside me, her eyes wide with terror. "What's happening? Who are they?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din.

"Just stay here," I growled, my focus on the dance floor unfolding into a battlefield. Viktor and I moved like shadows, weaving through the panicked crowd, using the chaos as our shield. We took down two gunmen, their weapons clattering to the floor. But the remaining five were relentless, their bullets carving deadly paths through the air.

Through the pandemonium, I saw movement. Two figures, dark and lethal, stalked across the dance floor, weapons spitting fire. Yaz emerged from the shadows, his own gun a blur of steel and smoke. He took down one of the attackers with a precise headshot, the other tumbling to the floor with a choked gasp.

"What is going on?" She asked fearfully.

But before I could answer, a bullet ricocheted off the pillar, inches from her head. The world exploded in slow motion. I lunged, pushing her to the ground, taking her place in the line of fire.

For a heartbeat, the universe narrowed to the echo of the shot, the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, and the raw fear in her eyes. Then, through the haze of pain, I saw him. The last gunman, silhouetted against the flashing lights, aiming for her.

Without thinking, I reacted. My body moved on autopilot, honed by years of combat. I drew my own weapon, firing with instinctive precision. The gun bucked in my hand, the roar swallowed by the cacophony of the attack. The gunman stumbled, then crumpled, a red stain blossoming on his chest.

Two more gunmen fell, leaving only the leader, a man with cold eyes and a sneer that stretched across his face.

"Pushkin," he rasped, his voice laced with fear.

Her eyes widened. She turned to me, her gaze searching my face, tracing the lines hardened by years of living in the shadows. And then, she whispered, her voice trembling, "Who are you?"

I met her gaze, a slow smirk playing on my lips. The smoke-filled air, the screams, the ringing in my ears faded away. All that remained was the fire in her eyes, reflecting the flames that danced in the club.

"I am Alexei Pushkin," I said, my voice a low rumble, and the world tilted on its axis as I watched her breath catch in her throat.