The Mafia and His Obsession, Part 2 by Lylah James

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Viktor

 

I stormed forward into the tiny estate—the cold, sterile building that used to be my home for a year. Where Valentin kept me hidden until I was ready to make my presence known and conquer the game, one move at a time.

The guards greeted me with a slight bow of their heads. The maids scurried away from my path, their heads bowed too. None of them met my eyes. The estate was silent and dark, the same cold feeling it always had.

My feet continued to move toward one direction. It had been a week since my conversation with Valerie. Since she cried for her.

Valerie had told me a little story, her reality before I stumbled into her life and brought chaos with me. Except her life had already been dark and chaotic.

In her story, there was a girl. A friend. A sister—she said. Not by blood. No, they were bound together through this goddamn life. They became each other’s savior.

But Valerie’s story changed everything I used to believe in.

So I had to know for myself. I came here to seek the truth.

I had to know if Valerie’s friend, Irina, was the same as the one I met before.

The same woman I used, just like Valentin had. Used and discarded.

It had been eating me all week, my stomach churning just at the thought.

To me, she had just been someone to sink my dick in. A faceless woman for my pleasure. A whore—because that was what I thought. But little did I fucking know.

I stalked the length of the halls, looking for Irina. Room by room, I entered and then left when I didn’t see her. My fingers clenched my hair in frustration when I couldn’t find her.

Finally, one room was left, the last one at the end of the corridor. The one that was always closed. I never thought much of it—I simply didn’t care, but now…

Walking closer, I stood outside, waiting. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe I was scared of the truth. Maybe I was scared of facing her reality.

My hands were cold and shaking when I opened the door. Once inside, I found the room dark and cold. The scent of despair and death hung in the air. Fuck.

I walked further inside. There were no windows. Just four walls—a cage for someone. The room just had the bare necessities. Only a queen-size bed in the middle. An old wooden table and a chair by the furthest wall.

I touched the wall closest to the door, looking for a light switch. My gaze followed the darkness, looking—desperately searching. Finally, my eyes found who I was looking for.

I couldn’t see her, the darkness hiding her in the shadows, but she was there.

My fingers found the light switch, and I turned it on. I had to blink several times, trying to get accustomed to the sudden light, and when I finally could see—my stomach rolled and my heart squeezed at the sight in front of me.

Irina was on her knees beside the bed, almost plastered against the wall with her head bowed. Even with the lights on, she kept kneeling, her eyes cast downward.

She looked frozen, too still—almost like a statue. A doll sitting there, waiting to be played with by her master.

My eyes quickly traveled the length of her naked body, my gaze staying longer on the chains around her neck and then down to her wrists and ankles. The heavy metal chain was attached to the bed post. She couldn’t go far from that position.

“Irina.” A whisper in the cold room.

She didn’t move, but I knew she heard me. I could see it in the way her shoulders tightened. Irina kept her head bowed, her knees still folded under her body, her thighs just slightly spread apart.

A slave bound by her owner’s words.

She would not move or speak without Valentin’s permission.

It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over my head, waking me up from the little fantasy I had been living in. How could I have been so goddamn blind?

Moving forward, I took the blanket off the bed and draped it on her shoulders. I squatted down, facing her. She still kept her head bowed, refusing to look at me.

“Look at me, Irina.”

I saw her fists clenching on her thighs, her nails biting harshly in her flesh. “I am not going to hurt you. Please, look at me.” My words came out choked, sounding harsh against the silence of the room, echoing through the cold walls.

She stayed completely still and her eyes were closed, her heart, mind, and body wanting different things. Her mind was trained to follow Valentin’s demands. Her body was controlled by his words. Yet her heart still hoped for something else.

Months ago, I saw another side of Irina. The one who knew what she wanted and she used her words to get it. And now…I was seeing this side. The side that Valentin had wrapped tightly around his fists.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Fuck, I didn’t know. If only I knew…” I left my words hanging only because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have words of assurance to give her. “I will make him pay, Irina. I’ll fix this.”

Clearing my throat, I shook my head. My emotions were in turmoil. I not only have let Valerie down, but I didn’t save Irina when I could have.

“Look at me,” I pleaded one more time.

The silence stretched. The seconds ticked by. I waited. Finally, she lifted her head up. Irina stared at me with soulless, dark brown eyes. Her once flawless face had bruises and cuts. They were healing nicely, but I knew once they were gone, new ones would take their place.

My gaze traveled south, and where the collar was attached to her neck, I noticed that her skin was red, almost scratched raw. Her hair was a mess, cut short to her neck and in different angles, almost like it had been chopped angrily.

Her jaw clenched and then her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak. She breathed through her nose and then swallowed hard.

“Konstantin,” she whispered.

I hated that fucking name with a passion. Shaking my head at her, I spoke firmly. “Never. I am never going to be Konstantin again. It’s Viktor. Viktor Ivanshov. From now on, to you—I am Viktor.”

She cocked her head to the side and regarded me with those dark eyes. It was almost like I was staring at my own empty, tainted soul.

Irina gave me a small, tight smile. “It was right there. Right in front of you, Konstantin, yet you refused to see it.”

My throat closed and the invisible weight tightened on my chest at her words, and I looked down, almost ashamed at how much her words rung with the bitter truth. Swallowing hard, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. My voice sounded rough to my own ears when I finally spoke. “How long?”

Irina stared at me for the longest time before replying. “I don’t even remember. It’s been so long that I have lost count.”

She gripped the blanket and huddled more into its softness. Her bleak eyes closed, and she let out an aggrieved sigh. “I was twelve when I was taken,” she whispered softly. I almost missed the words and I almost wished I did.

It fucking hurt. More than I thought it would.

Standing up, I paced the room in frustration. My fists clenched at my sides, and I suppressed the urge to break something—to fucking kill.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Irina stand up. Her body heavily sagged against the wall, as if she were in pain. Seconds passed, and she finally took a trembling step forward.

“I was an orphan, running away from a cruel, adoptive system, but I ended up in a hellhole instead. Wrong place. Wrong time. They saw me. In a blink of an eye, I was taken away. Blindfolded, drugged, and then I woke up in a cage.”

I stopped pacing and turned to face her. She looked down at her feet, lost in her thoughts.

“It’s known by many names. The Game. Bloodhound. But the club itself, where all the ringmasters sit, it’s called—The Kingpin.”

Irina looked up, our eyes meeting. She trapped me there, forcing me to see her truth. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “It’s where the arena is. Where the game takes place. Where we are sold, bought, used, and discarded. It’s where the masters make millions a night.”

This—this was Valentin’s business. This was where his money came from. What his Empire was built on. This was his source of power and exactly what I had to bring down. What Alessio needed me to destroy.

“Go on,” I urged, wanting to know everything. I had to know.

Her fingers touched her shackles, and then she dropped her arms down to her sides. I could see her body was weak, fragile, and weighted down. A wilted flower. She reminded me so much of my myshka—my sweet Valerie.

“When something bad happens, your heart argues with you and your brain becomes a messy place. At first, I was confused. Thought it was just a dream and I’d wake up and all of it would disappear,” Irina continued, her weak voice sounding far away through the roaring in my ears. “I was lucky that I was twelve. At least I understood what was going on. Not all, but most of it. I knew something bad was happening. I knew it was going to hurt. I was prepared for it. I knew my life ended the moment I was drugged and blindfolded the first time.”

She looked up again, and I saw tears in her eyes. Her face was void of any emotion, but those tears brimming in her eyes gave her away.

“What about those who are just babies? As young as seven years old?” she murmured. A tear slipped down her cheek. “They knew and understood nothing. They went from being safe to being thrown in the den of The Kingpin. An arena they would never survive. They scream for help. Scream loud for their mommy and daddy to save them. They beg and cry. Nobody came to help, Konstantin. Little girls and boys. Nobody heard their cries.”

Another tear slipped down her cheeks, and she choked back a sob. “You can see them hurting. Bleeding. They can’t walk afterward. Their little legs would tremble and they would fall down.”

Bringing her hand up, palms facing upward, she showed me her trembling hands. “I held one of them in my arms. I held him tight and told him it was going to be okay. Until he took his last breath. He didn’t survive The Game. I can still smell his blood, Konstantin.”

I brought a fist to my lips, holding back my enraged roar. Her words inflicted pain in my soul.

“We are put in cages, shackled, and then paraded around. We are used in front of others—all our innocence taken away, in the open for the ringmasters to see.”

Gripping my hair in frustration, I closed my eyes. I felt sick, and despair filled me until my body was cold and shaking with rage.

The motherfucking Kingpin.

I was no saint, no savior, no angel. Heaven had long forsaken me, and Hell was probably scared of me. I walked into the shadows of the Devil. I killed for a living. I breathed the life of the underworld, I lived a life of crime and evil, and I was tainted through my bones.

I have done way too much bad shit to ever be forgiven for them, but raping kids? Stealing their lives and their innocence in the cruellest way possible…

I was no saint, but those bastards didn’t deserve to fucking live.

Motherfucker. Anger rolled off me like crashing waves.

Irina choked back her cries of pain. “I was twelve when I was bought the first time. Fifteen for my second buyer. And then seventeen when Valentin saw me and bought me. He is my third buyer, and I am now twenty-one. I should be dead or discarded by now—maybe he’ll sell me soon, looking for newer flesh to brand. I am too old for The Kingpin. I’m just waiting for my final moments, but Valentin doesn’t seem to want to let me go. He has branded me. Again.”

My eyes snapped open to see her turning around, giving me her back. I walked closer and she moved her chopped hair out of the way. And there it was.

A brand. It looked fresh and brutal. The skin was marked and burned. From the look of it, I knew it was made from a heavy branding iron.

I winced at the sight, almost feeling the pain they must have gone through—having their skin branded like this.

“I never saw this. How did I never see this on you?” I whispered, my finger feathering over the raised, scarred skin.

She flinched away and turned to face me. “You never paid attention to me. You never saw me. It was faded, anyway. It had been years since they branded me. But two weeks ago, Valentin branded me again. He wanted his mark to be visible for everyone to see.”

Her words were a gunshot to my heart. She was right. I never saw the truth because I never saw her. I never looked closely to see what was inside. Her suffering. The torment she lived through.

“Back when you were living in this estate, Valentin wasn’t visiting me as much. I guess his attention was on someone else. I was free for the littlest time. I wasn’t wearing my shackles or my collar. That’s why you never noticed anything—the reality behind the mask,” Irina mumbled. “I saw you and I thought, maybe, just maybe, I could feel some gentle touches. For once.”

“I used you. Just like Valentin did,” I croaked through a heavy lump in my throat.

At that, Irina smiled and shook her head. Her tiny hand wrapped around mine, and she squeezed. “After living in this world for so long, I can tell the difference between a good man and a bad man. I can tell whose heart is tainted and whose is just darkness.”

I can tell whose heart is tainted and whose is just darkness

Powerful words that could bring any made man to his knees.

But she was wrong.

I was both tainted and darkness. I was a whole lot of fucked-up-ness. If only she knew…

“You are not a bad man, Viktor. That’s why I let you touch me. For the briefest moment, even if it wasn’t the best fantasy, I still felt a gentle touch. I know it wasn’t me you were touching. I know you were thinking about someone else when we were together. I know you wished I were someone else, but I let myself believe for a moment.”

“How did I not see this? How did I not know? I should have fucking known!” I snarled before pulling away and punching the wall viciously. I looked at the torn skin over my knuckles. I didn’t register the pain; everything was just so goddamn numb.

“You were blinded by the world you lived in.”

Her shackles rattled behind me as she walked closer. “But you can see the truth now. What are you going to do?”

I turned to face her, my jaw clenching and grinding together, aching with the need to unleash my fury. “I will end it. And I am going to take you out of here.”

Irina’s eyes widened and she took a step back, shaking her head. “You can’t. You will only get killed. We will all get killed. And Valerie will be hurt.”

I froze, my stomach churning at her words. “What did you say?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Irina shook her head over and over again. Her words were laced with desperation and panic when she spoke. “Valerie. My friend. Valentin’s wife. We are his favorites. If Valentin is giving me all this attention right now, that means Valerie is being left alone. I know that. It’s either me or her. I can take her pain away if Valentin continues to focus on me.”

My mind reeled and I remembered Valerie’s words.

Irina and Valerie.

Sisters, not by blood—but by choice.

They took each other’s pain, so the other could be safe.

Yet they were both trapped in a never-ending cycle of nightmare.

There were selfish people in this fucked-up world. But there were also selfless souls who were wandering aimlessly, chasing the unknown.

Irina and Valerie fell into the latter circle.

Walking closer, I palmed her cheeks. My thumb swiped under her eyes gently, chasing away the tears that had spilled over. “I’m going to get you out of here. Both of you,” I vowed.

More tears slid down her cheeks. “You can’t.”

I growled low in my throat. Nothing was impossible for me. Not for an Ivanshov. “I will. Trust me. I will end this. You will no longer wear shackles. You will be free, Irina. That’s my vow.”

I stepped back and let her go. “I will come back for you. Wait for me.”

She let out a loud sob and fell down on her knees. Her hand covered her mouth, smothering her cries.

Our eyes locked, and Irina shakily nodded at me, silently putting her fate in my hands. I gave her a final glance before walking away.

My steps faltered at the door. Turning around, I looked down at the broken girl weeping on the floor.

“There is someone waiting for you. Desperately wants to meet you. And I know she will be very happy to see you again.”

I didn’t wait for her answer. I closed the door behind me and walked away. The game has changed.

In the Bratva, you walked in and there was no out. The only way out—was your dead corpse.

Our lives had been built on years and years of revenge. Kill after kill.

Blood for blood. Bodies after bodies. A death trail.

I made a promise, and I didn’t intend to break it.