“And your wife? Have you started to make babies yet?”

I ran a hand down my face. If Ivan wasn’t my friend and my boss, I’d tell him to go and fuck himself.

“Everything is going well.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Slavik. You and I know how important this treaty is. I’ve given you a woman because I know you’ll follow instructions and she won’t be dead within a few years at your hand. This play cannot work without all the cogs working. Get her pregnant and do it soon.”

He hung up and I stared at my phone before pocketing it.

I glanced up at the night sky, taking a final deep breath. The play was the chance to expand, to take more turf. With Aurora as my wife, it made the Italians look weak. They wanted an alliance to stop the bloodshed, as we’d been killing their made men for years. This treaty, however long it lasted, would gain us the power to completely wipe them from our list of enemies.

It was always about ground and money. Two of which always equaled power, and we always wanted a lot of it.

Entering the warehouse, I heard the screams. My men stood waiting for the instruction. The man hanging upside down, blood streaming from several slashes that had been made into his flesh, whimpered, and the almost animal-like sounds he made echoed around the room.

I’d long ago been desensitized to the noises of the tortured. This man had stolen from us. Taken product in the intent to hand us over to the law. We didn’t take betrayal easily. He’d also been trying to get out of the country ever since he realized he was the piece in a trap.

“No, please. No. I’ll do anything.”

I crouched down so we were at eye level. “Who were you going to meet with?” I asked.

After he’d called to try to buy protection for the information he believed he had, he went running to one of our enemies, the Italian mafia. This morning, I got the call from Fredo himself, the man willing to trade secrets. This was why the treaty worked.

“I’m dead anyway,” the man said.

I tilted my head to the side, looking at him. He’d already pissed and shit himself. The contents of his body swirled on the floor, creating a stink. I hated weak men. This man was the lowest of the low.

When you swore loyalty to someone, you gave yourself to the cause, and this fucker was everything I despised.

Ivan Volkov was a fucking king in our world, and to all those who turned on him, turned on us, I never showed mercy.

“True, but I can make it an easy death. You wouldn’t feel pain. Or I can keep you alive for days, weeks, months, and every single day, you will feel nonstop pain.” I tilted my head to the side with a smile. “What’s it going to be?”