CHAPTER TWO

ALEXEI

The bar was dimly lit, its air heavy with the scent of cigars and the low hum of Russian voices engaged in conversations that ranged from mundane to sinister. A world of shadows and secrets, where alliances were forged and broken over glasses of vodka, and where business was conducted with a steely resolve.

Beside me sat my closest confidant and second-in-command, Yazmin, a man whose loyalty had been unwavering through the darkest of times.

We had come here for business, but the memory of what had brought us here simmered beneath the surface, like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt.

Yaz was the only one who knew the depths of my anger, the fire that burned within me. He was also the only one who dared to poke fun at me, even in the direst of situations.

I glanced at Yaz, his dark eyes dancing with mischief, a stark contrast to his clean-shaven, rugged exterior. He leaned in closer, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know, Alexei, this place could use some better lighting. I can barely see the bottom of my glass."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yaz, it's a dive bar, not a palace. If you want better lighting, go to a fancy restaurant."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, the best stories are born in places like this."

I had to admit, Yaz had a point. Some of our most memorable escapades had started in the dingiest of establishments. "Well, let's hope this meeting doesn't turn into a story we'd rather forget."

Yaz's playful expression turned serious, his gaze locking onto mine. "I know this means a lot to you, Alexei. But remember, we're here for business, not vengeance."

I nodded, though the memory of the past still weighed heavily on my mind. The man we were about to meet, Mikhail Volkov, had destroyed my life. He had killed my brother and his wife, leaving me with a wound that would never fully heal.

Tonight, I had a chance to confront him, to bring him to justice, but I had to tread carefully.

As we continued our conversation, Yaz couldn't resist steering it toward more light-hearted topics. "You know, Alexei, you could use a break from all this brooding. Maybe it's time you let me set you up with someone. A beautiful woman, perhaps?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his persistence. "Yaz, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not in the mood for romance."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, but you see, my friend, love is like vodka. It has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it."

I couldn't help but laugh. Yaz had a way of making even the most serious conversations take a humorous turn. "Well, if love is like vodka, then I'm currently on the wagon."

Yaz feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "You wound me, Alexei. But I promise, one day, I'll find the woman who can make even your heart thaw."

Before I could respond, the bar's entrance swung open, and a man walked in, drawing the attention of every patron in the room.

Mikhail Volkov had arrived, and the atmosphere shifted, as if a storm was brewing on the horizon. The memory of what he had done to my family surged to the forefront of my mind, drowning out any trace of humor.

Yaz and I exchanged a meaningful look, our silent communication conveying our shared purpose. It was time to confront the past, to face the man who had taken so much from us.

The jovial banter and light-hearted conversations were replaced by a steely resolve that hung in the air like an unspoken promise.

As Volkov approached our table, all trace of humor vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination. He might have tried to hide it, but I could see the fear in his eyes, the knowledge that he had crossed a line that could not be undone.

He had taken everything from me, and now it was time to make him pay.

The air grew heavy as Mikhail Volkov took a seat across from me, his steely gaze never leaving mine. A hushed silence fell over our corner of the bar, as if the very walls were straining to hear our words.

"Volkov," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "you've been living on borrowed time for far too long."

He met my gaze, his jaw clenched with defiance. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Alexei."

But I could see it—the flicker of fear that he couldn't quite hide, the realization that his past sins were catching up to him. The feud that had simmered between us for years was about to reach its boiling point, and there was no turning back.

"Alexei," Volkov began, his voice low and measured, "I have a proposition for you. A lucrative business opportunity, if you will."

I couldn't help but scoff, a bitter edge to my laughter. "A business opportunity, Volkov? You killed my brother and his wife. Do you think I want something to do with you?”

Volkov's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "That's ancient history, Alexei. Water under the bridge. What I'm offering you is a chance to make amends, to rebuild what you lost."

I leaned in closer, my tone cold and unforgiving. "You think you can buy your way out of the blood you've spilled, Volkov? You're a fool if you believe that."

The tension in the room grew, our voices mere whispers in the cacophony of the bar. But all eyes were on us, as if the patrons sensed the gravity of our exchange.

Volkov's facade of composure cracked, and I could see the anger flicker in his eyes. "You always were a stubborn one, Alexei. But don't forget, we share a history. A history that binds us, whether you like it or not."

I nodded, my gaze unwavering. "Yes, a history stained with the blood of my family. A history that will end with your reckoning."

Our conversation had shifted from business to a confrontation that had been a long time coming. The past and the present collided in that dimly lit bar, and the atmosphere was charged with the promise of violence.

Volkov leaned in closer, his voice dripping with menace. "You have a choice, Alexei. Join me, and we can rule this city together. Refuse, and you will be crushed."

I laughed, a bitter, sarcastic sound that reverberated through the room. "You think you can threaten me, Volkov? You killed my brother and his wife. I'm coming for you, and there's no escape."

Our conversation had become a duel of wills, a clash of two men who had spent years circling each other in the shadows. The patrons watched in silence, knowing that the outcome of this confrontation would have far-reaching consequences.

Volkov's eyes blazed with fury, his voice a low growl. "You underestimate me, Alexei. I am not to be trifled with."

I met his gaze with a steely resolve. "And you underestimate the depth of my determination. I will not rest until you pay for what you've done."

The room seemed to hold its breath as our words hung in the air, a declaration of war in the world of shadows and secrets. Our confrontation had reached its climax, and the reckoning had finally arrived.

As Volkov rose from his seat and walked away, the patrons returned to their conversations, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. But for me, the battle was far from over. The past had resurfaced, and the future held the promise of vengeance.

I turned to Yaz, my trusted friend and confidant, and our eyes met in silent understanding. The feud with Volkov would not end until justice was served, and I was determined to see it through to the bitter end.