Till Death Saves Me (Forced Mafia Marriages)

7. Ivan

7

IVAN

I stand at the window, my eyes fixed on Virginia as she lounges by the pool. The sun glints off her dark skin, droplets of water glistening on her curves. That damn bikini leaves little to the imagination. My jaw clenches as I fight the surge of lust coursing through my veins.

Fuck. I shouldn't be looking at her like this. She's nothing but a political pawn, a necessary evil for the good of the Bratva. But my body doesn't seem to care about politics or alliances.

My body wants my fucking wife, and it is hard to ignore all the damn blood running to my dick. I always knew she was easy on the eyes but in the last couple of years her figure has gotten curvy, and damn, 21 looks good on her.

The sharp trill of my phone cuts through my thoughts. Lev's name flashes on the screen.

"What?" I bark into the receiver, tearing my gaze away from Virginia.

"We've got a situation," Lev's voice is tight. "The Red Serpents are making moves in Brooklyn. They hit one of our warehouses last night."

My entire body tenses, mind immediately shifting gears. "Casualties?"

"Two of our guys. Three more in the hospital."

"Fuck," I spit out. "I'll be right there."

I end the call, already moving towards my closet. As I change into a suit, my mind races through potential strategies. The Red Serpents have been pushing their luck lately, but this is a bold move. Too bold.

I grab my gun, sliding it into its holster. One last glance out the window shows Virginia still lounging, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around us.

"I'm heading out," I tell Matteo, one of the guys I keep on rotation here at the house, as I stride past her in the hallway. "Keep an eye on Virginia. Don't let her leave the property."

Matteo nods, understanding the gravity in my tone. As I climb into my car, I push all thoughts of bikinis and soft skin from my mind. There's blood to be spilled, and I intend to be the one spilling it.

I stand rigid in Nikolai's office, my body thrumming with anticipation. The air is thick with tension as our Pakhan outlines the plan to deal with the Red Serpents' incursion.

"Lev," Nikolai's voice is cold steel, "you'll lead a team to push these fuckers back where they came from. Make it messy. I want them pissing their pants at the thought of stepping on our turf again."

Lev nods, an excited look crossing his face. "With pleasure, brother." He's violent, but I can't talk. They both know what's brewing under my skin.

Nikolai turns to me, his icy blue eyes boring into mine. "Ivan, I need you to do what you do best. Get me information. Find out who's calling the shots, where they're hiding, and what the fuck they think they're playing at."

I feel a familiar rush of adrenaline. This is what I live for. The thrill of the hunt. Because we all know what information "Consider it done, Pakhan."

"Good," Nikolai leans back in his chair. "I want this wrapped up quickly and quietly. We can't afford to show any weakness, not with the other families watching our every move."

Outside Nikolai's office, Lev claps me on the shoulder. "Ready to spill some blood?"

"Always," I reply, a cold smile tugging at my lips. "Just try not to have too much fun without me."

Lev chuckles darkly. "No promises. You get to have some fun with your shit. Leave some action for the rest of us, yeah?"

I roll my eyes, but there's no heat in it. Lev and I have always worked well together, our strengths complementing each other perfectly. While he brings the brute force, I'm great at being a bit more stealthy. But I do love the bloodshed, just like everyone else in the Bratva.

As we part ways, my mind is already racing, plotting out my next moves. We'll have to see if any of their guys are willing to part with some intel. And if that doesn't work... Well, I have other methods of extracting information.

The thought sends a rush of adrenaline through me. It's been too long since I've had a real challenge. The Red Serpents won't know what hit them.

It doesn't take long to find my target. They are stupid enough to use a fucking drug runner to pass off messages — and they aren't very discreet about it. The fucker will know what I need.

As I climb into my car, my mind is already piecing together my plans for capturing the Red Serpent messenger. But something tugs at the back of my mind, an unfamiliar sensation that takes me a moment to identify.

Concern.

For Virginia.

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the ignition. Fuck. Why am I even thinking about her right now? I left two of my most trusted guards at the house. She should be fine.

But every made man knows that hitting a rival can have repercussions. And if I'm out here taking out one of their guys…

What's stopping them from coming after my wife?

I can't shake this nagging feeling. With an irritated growl, I pull out my phone and open the app connected to the house's security cameras. My eyes scan the feeds until I find her.

There she is, still lounging by the pool. The sun glistens off her damp skin, and I feel a rush of... something. Relief? Possessiveness? I push the thought aside, focusing instead on the fact that no one else's eyes are on her. And I can see my guards stationed outside the house. Good.

I watch for a moment longer, taking in the peaceful scene. It's almost surreal, this slice of normalcy amidst the chaos of our world. For a brief second, I wonder what it would be like to be there with her, to give into this lustful beast that started pounding under my skin the second I saw her walking down that aisle to me.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I've got a job to do, a message to send. I can't afford to be distracted by thoughts of my wife and her damn bikini.

Shaking my head, I close the app and tell the driver to go. I need the ability to…chat with our guest when I pull him in.

As the driver pulls onto the street, I force my mind back to the task at hand. The Red Serpents need to learn their place, and I'm more than happy to teach them.

With each mile that passes, I feel the familiar cold focus settling over me. By the time I reach my destination, Ivan the husband is gone, replaced by Ivan the brigadier.

It's time to hunt.

Lucky for me, it doesn't take long to locate the bastard. And instead of going on retrieval, I let him drink himself into a stupor before I make my move. It'll make my job easier.

So I stand in the shadows, watching our target stumble out of the dingy bar. The Red Serpent messenger sways, clearly drunk off his ass. Perfect.

"Now," I murmur into my earpiece.

My men move with practiced precision. Two flank the messenger while another pulls up in a black SUV. Before the drunk bastard can even process what's happening, we've got him.

I slide into the backseat next to our captive, my face a mask of cold indifference. The messenger's eyes widen as recognition dawns.

"You... work for the Sokolovs," he stammers.

I don't bother responding. Instead, I nod to my man in the driver's seat. "Let's go."

As we pull away from the curb, I turn my attention to our guest. He's trembling now, all bravado gone. Good. Fear makes them sloppy.

"We're going to have a little chat," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "And you're going to tell me everything you know about the Red Serpents' recent... activities."

The messenger tries to put on a brave face. "I don't know shit," he spits.

I can't help the cold smile that spreads across my face. This is what I live for. The thrill of the hunt, the sweet taste of fear in the air.

"Oh, I think you do," I reply, pulling out a knife. The blade glints in the dim light of the car. "And I'm very, very good at making people remember things they've forgotten."

I trace the flat of the blade along his cheek, relishing the way he flinches. "Now, let's start with who ordered the hit on our warehouse."

The messenger's eyes dart frantically between me and the knife. I can practically smell his terror. It's intoxicating.

"I... I can't," he whimpers. "They'll kill me."

I lean in close, my voice a menacing whisper. "You should be more worried about what I'll do to you if you don't start talking."

To emphasize my point, I press the tip of the knife against his throat. Just enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Tick tock," I say, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through my veins. "I'm not a patient man."

And it didn't take long for him to learn that.