People call me a monster. So am I.

I didn't build this empire-it was my great grandfather's. He created it with his iron fists and careful decisions. He was feared, respected, the kind of leader people trusted, or at least pretended to. He thought power came from offering protection-twisted, dark protection-and earning loyalty through it.

Me, I have one rule: Get the job done. No matter the cost. Black Serpent wasn't passed down as some damn inheritance. I earned it. Not with some calculated moves or slow-burn tactics, but with sheer, brutal efficiency. I've watched men break under my gaze, seen the way they flinch when I speak, because they know I don't care how many of them fall, as long as the job gets done. Respect? Nah. My rule is carved from fear. My father was the viper-coiled, calculating. I'm the strike: swift, violent, and without hesitation. Men follow me not because they want to-they follow me because they know the alternative is a far worse fate.

Under my command, Black Serpent is colder, sharper. Every order I give is a ruthless demand for results. No compromises. There's no room for weakness. I don't care who they are or what ideals they cling to-serve, or be discarded. The Black Serpent's reach doesn't tolerate failure.

Mercy is weakness. Fear is poison. I don't have the luxury of either. But people fear me. They respect me. They should. My name carries weight in places others can't even dream of stepping. They think I'm heartless. Maybe I am. Doesn't matter. I've lost count of the lives I've ended, the bodies I've buried, the people I've broken. They all had it coming. In my world, you either control the game, or you're just another pawn waiting to be sacrificed.

I don't apologize for who I am or what I've done. This isn't some fairytale, and mercy? Mercy is a death sentence. Loyalty and fear-those are the only currencies in my world. Loyalty I buy; fear I inspire. And together, they're a hell of a combination.

I live in a world of shadows and silence, where deals are made with blood and trust is just another currency. Betray me, and I'll make sure it's the last mistake they ever make. The streets are filled with ghosts, men who crossed me and paid for it. Their whispers follow me, but they're nothing more than echoes in the silence.

Every choice, every action, every life taken or spared-it all adds up. People like to think there's a soul buried under it all, a man who feels guilt. They're wrong. Whatever I was before, that man's long gone.

This empire, the Bratva I took over, soaked in blood, demands survival. I've seen "untouchable" men crumble with a single misstep, watched kings fall because they forgot the power of fear. Power alone isn't enough-it's fear that keeps you alive. So I let the world remember the Black Serpent as more than just a name. It's a warning.

However, my father didn't approve of my method. But who cares? I don't give a fuck about anyone's opinions. He always told me, Once the fear is gone, the Bratva, our legacy, will bury under the ground. The people who feared don't even recognize it.

What I learned from my father's words was simple: The fear must be maintained. So I need to plant fear deep in people's hearts-so deep that even their souls can't forget what Black Serpent is, and who I am.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room, checking some documents. My father came in and sat beside me, saying nothing at first. I didn't mind. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Zakhar, I caught wind of the fire at the Void's headquarters."

I simply nodded, not looking up from my work.

"Zakhar, I'm talking to you."

"And I can hear you. Loud and clear."

"That was your work, wasn't it? The fire, I mean."

"What if it is?"

"You can't keep acting like this, Zakhar. One day, it'll come back to bite us."

"I don't give a fuck. I'll kill them all. Every last one."

"You're too quick to spill blood, son. This isn't a game. Every action has its price. Even if you don't see it now."

"They brought it on themselves. They shouldn't have touched my shipments. They needed to be taught a lesson."

"I understand, Zakhar. But-"

I raise a hand to silence him. "You handed the Bratva to me. I earned it. I've proven myself a thousand times over. I know exactly what I'm doing. Don't lecture me."

Just then, my phone rings. Elena's college security shows up on the caller ID. Apparently, there's some kind of commotion between my idiot brother Zinoviy and a civilian. How many times do I have to beat it into them? No. Touching. Civilians. I sigh, exasperated, and get up from the couch.

"This time, I'm gonna peel their skin alive," I mutter, heading for the door, grabbing my keys, and getting in the car for a drive to the university.

The family mansion looms behind me. It's our fortress, our cage. I know Elena feels trapped here with me and the twins, probably under my shadow more than anyone. She used to say she'd leave when she turned eighteen. Now she's nineteen, and she's still here-she has to be. It's safer for her.

People call me a monster, but when it comes to my family, I'd burn the world to keep them safe. My father raised me as the heir to Black Serpent, and my brothers were raised to follow. Elena, though? She's exactly like my mother-soft, affectionate. She's the opposite of what this life demands, and that's how I prefer it.

When I reach the campus, I don't head straight for the twins. First, I need to check on Elena. I stride down the hall with one goal in mind, but these damn students are clogging it like it's their personal hangout. Where the hell are the teachers? I want to grab the nearest kid and smash his face against the wall, clear the path with his blood. Effective and simple.

Then, out of nowhere, someone slams into me. My hand shoots out, ready to grab the idiot, but it's a girl. Tiny thing. She doesn't even look up, just bolts like she's got a fire under her. Not a single apology. She's gone before I can even get a look at her face. Grey T-shirt, blue jeans, long hair. Then two more little hellions race after her.

What the fuck is this? A hallway or a goddamn playground?

I shake my head and head to Elena's classroom. Today's lineup of irritation is a real test-first my old man, then my idiot brothers, now a pack of reckless brats. I take a deep breath and step into the room. Silence hits like a wave; it's clear the little punks recognize who I am.

Elena's eyes widen as she spots me. I stop beside her seat.

"Zak, what are you doing here? Is something wrong? I didn't do anything."

"I know, El. It's the twins. But I wanted to check on you before I deal with those idiots."

"What? What did they do this time?"

"How can you be so oblivious, Elena? I'll fill you in later. I need to get those two fuckers under control."

With that, I turn and leave the classroom. Her class is on the second floor, and from the railing, I catch sight of them in action-Zoran on the sidelines, whistling and cheering like a damn fanboy, while Zinoviy is going at it with... a kid? Really? Have they lost their minds, or just their sense of self-preservation? Though, I'll admit-the kid has stamina and knows how to throw a punch. I'm almost impressed. Almost.

Then I notice a girl pushing her way through the crowd, shouting for the kid, trying to get through to him. He's not even glancing her way. So, who's he to her? A friend? Cousin? Brother? That's when I realize-it's the same girl who bumped into me earlier. Grey T-shirt, blue jeans, long black hair. Definitely her. Without wasting any more time, I head down to the playground.

When I reach them, she's pleading with Zoran to stop the fight. As if. The guy lives for violence; he wouldn't stop even if Zinoviy dropped dead in front of him. She kept begging him, playing right into his hands without even realizing it. But then, she figured him out, realizing he was just toying with her. Smart girl-though, maybe not so smart, because next thing I saw, She turns her back on Zoran, stepping toward the two idiots brawling like bulls in a ring, determined to stop them herself.

Of course, Zoran has to ruin it-he catches her, yanking her back into his grip.

I can't watch this pathetic scene any longer, but something about her catches my interest. She's trembling-like a damn leaf. And it's not because of Zoran, though he's convinced it is. I can see it in that smug look on his face. No, there's something else here. Her eyes are wide, frozen in place, her legs starting to shake. This isn't normal fear...of someone; this is something deeper. Her knees finally give out, and just as she's about to hit the ground, I grab her by the waist, pulling her back on her feet.

The second my hand touches her, I can feel it-fear, raw and real. It's the only thing that keeps me alive, the fuel I live for, and right now, she's radiating it. When I call out to Zinoviy, everyone stops, like they're snapped to attention. Everyone but the girl, still trembling in my arms.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I see that kid's glare fixed on me. I know that look. So that punk knows me after all. It's just he doesn't want her anywhere near someone like me. Good. Fear looks good on him too. Once I've got Zoran and Zinoviy under control, I turn my attention back to her. I ask her a simple question, but she just stares, clueless.

"You should apologize to the person you bumped into. Basic manners," I say.

She opens her mouth, probably to stammer out a "sorry," but before she can get a word out, that kid yanks her away, pulling her close to him. The second his hands touched her, rage sparked inside me. I hate having something taken from my grasp. Hate it. I don't give a damn if it's a piece of trash; no one takes anything from me. But that bastard has some nerve take her from my arm knowing who I am. Fucker have a death wish or something?

"Blake, are you okay? Can you see me?" She's checking his face, looking over his injuries.

"I'm fine." he mutters.

"You're... you're..." Her voice catches. She's holding back tears, probably cares too damn much for that kid.

"It's okay, Viv. I'm fine. Look at me, I'm standing like a rock." He hugs her, and I roll my eyes. This sappy caring nonsense is painful to watch.

"Viv?" I let the name roll around in my mind. Vivian? Viviana? Whatever. While the two of them drown in their precious bonding session, I turn my gaze to my brothers.

"Woah, bro! He broke your nose!" Zoran laughs like a hyena, cackling as his twin stands there with blood streaming down his bruised face. Typical Zoran.

"I would've killed him," Zinoviy mutters, his voice seething with that controlled anger, though Zin's eyes on that girl.

"Home. Now." Just two words, and they're off to the parking lot, no argument, no excuses. That's one thing they've learned well enough. But the girl and that kid? Still here, still yapping. I cross my arms, throwing them an exasperated look.

"We're going to the hospital," she insists, her voice almost amusingly authoritative.

"I'm not going anywhere. Stop treating me like a child all the time," that kid replies, defiant.

"I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm informing you. We're going. End of discussion." She doesn't waver, and surprisingly, he just nods, conceding. Her tone's got some bite. It almost makes me want to laugh, this little commander. Adorable. So, that kid's not just a friend. Cousin? No-probably her brother.

The rest of the students start heading off, finally clearing out. I take one last look around and walk out of the college.

"What the hell were you two thinking? Fighting with civilians-kids, for fuck's sake." The words snap out of me the moment we're back home, my gaze drilling into them, daring either one to justify this mess.

"It's not a big deal, Zak," Zoran shrugs, like he just got caught pulling some harmless prank.

"I would've killed that fucking bastard. He really got on my nerves," Zinoviy growls.

"By the way, brother, what's with the heroic stunt back there? Grabbing that girl's waist... I saw the way you looked at her. And your hands... Damn, Zak, you're too obvious." Zoran smirks.

"Shut up," I snap, my tone as sharp as a blade. "And what was all that commotion about? Care to explain?"

Zinoviy shrugs, brushing it off. "Who knows? He threw a first punch."

I narrow my eyes, barely holding back my frustration. "Seriously?."

Zoran's eyes widen, a wicked gleam in them. "I'm thinking I'll get a taste of her. She looked hot when she was pleading and begging."

"Back the fuck off," Zinoviy sneers.

"Oh, look who's playing Mr. Romeo now! Are you interested in her or something?"

"I mean it, Zo. Don't even think about touching her. Not so much as a glance."

I fix my gaze on Zinoviy. He's never been this worked up about anyone-especially not with Zoran. Is this just a passing attraction, or something more?

"And stay the hell away from civilians."

"Buzzkill," they both groan, sounding like two kids caught sneaking out.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

I go straight to my office, my frustration clawing at its peak. Mikhail is already there-my cousin, my father's younger brother's firstborn, Black Serpent's second-in-command. My right hand and the only man I truly trust in this Bratva. He's the executioner of my every command, the embodiment of Lucifer himself. Sometimes, I wonder just how long he'll stay in line. Let him roam unchecked, and one day he might just devour me whole, take the Bratva for himself. And yet, I like him for it. His ruthlessness, his instinct to obey without question-they make him the perfect ally and a necessary threat.

Trust? That's a joke. I trust no one-not even myself half the time. Hell, if my family pushes me far enough, I might end up killing them just to keep my own sanity. Except my siblings-they're the only ones safe.

"Anything new?"

"Void's on the verge of going for our throats. And by that, I mean yours and mine," Mikhail says, his calm tone dripping with dark amusement.

"Expected. What's surprising is that Maksim hasn't made his move yet."

"Maybe that's because of Fyodor," he replies, his voice cool as ice.

"Fyodor's probably losing sleep over this. If he kept Maksim on a tighter leash, Void might still have a headquarters to speak of."

"Maksim's got the nerve to make a move, but he's no Fyodor."

"At least Fyodor understands there are lines you don't cross. Maksim? That idiot wouldn't recognize a line if it was drawn in blood. Maybe this will finally teach him... or remind Fyodor what happens when you let a fool lead."

"You think Maksim learned his lesson?"

"Lesson? Hardly. The real lesson hasn't even started. When Void finally retaliates, we'll be waiting. They want a war? We'll give them hell."

I let out a low, dark laugh.

"They won't bring anything creative. Fyodor's predictable, and Maksim... he's just a desperate brat trying to prove himself. Trying too damn hard. Let's see how far his ego takes him."

Void-Our rival Bratva. We've been clashing with them for generations, since my grandfather's time. Fyodor heads the organization now, but he still doesn't trust his son enough to pass it on. I respect Fyodor; he's like my father in many ways, but far too predictable. Maksim, on the other hand, is a brat-a spoiled child who whimpers the moment something doesn't go his way. He has a lot to learn.

"And... I need you to do something for me. Something personal."

Mikhail raises an eyebrow, curious. "And what might that be?"

"I want you to dig into someone's background. I want every last detail."

He stays silent, watching me, waiting for the rest.

"Zin seems attracted to some civilian and even brawled with her brother or whoever. I want everything on her. When can you get it?"

"Zin, huh? That's... new. Fine. I'm listening."

"Her name's likely 'Viv'-Vivian, Viviana, or something. She's short. Maybe twenty to twenty-three. She has a brother, or maybe a cousin, hard to tell. That's all I have for now."

"Consider it done. But isn't it a bit out of character for you to dig into some random girl's life?"

"For Zin," I say, keeping my tone steady.

"Yeah, yeah... for Zin. Sure." He stands, casting a smirk my way. "Later, brother."

With that, Mikhail strolls out, that infuriating smirk lingering on his face. I clench my jaw, leaning back in my chair as frustration simmers in me. The smirk is annoying, but it's not the real problem. The real problem is her-the girl with the American accent that screams "outsider," and, from the sound of it, an attitude as stubborn as they come.

What the hell could Zin possibly see in her? Besides... her body, of course. It wouldn't hurt to admit that much-she has a hell of a body. I'd figured that out the moment I grabbed her waist. And maybe, just maybe, I let my hands wandered a little more than necessary. She hadn't noticed, but that kid sure as hell did. The way he practically yanked her out of my reach said it all.

Zin wasn't the type to get tangled in emotions, especially not over a civilian. Relationships were as foreign to him as they were to me-distracting, pointless, and messy. But this girl-Viv, or whatever the hell her name actually was-had him breaking his own damn rules. What did she have that made him lose his focus? I couldn't wrap my head around it, and that fact alone was pissing me off.

My fists clenched, the thought of her already getting under my skin. She had no idea what kind of world she was playing in, and maybe that was part of the allure for Zin. Maybe he liked the idea of something pure, something untouched by this life. But if she became a distraction, if she started pulling him under, she wouldn't just be his problem but become mine too.

Responsibility weighed on me like a lead chain, dragging me down. It was my job to keep Zin's head clear, to ensure this girl didn't become the crack that brought the whole structure crumbling down. If Mikhail's report didn't turn up something useful, I'd have to handle it myself.

One girl shouldn't be this complicated. Yet, somehow, she already was.

The cold, practical thought crept in before I could stop it: Should I kill her? Cut the distraction off at the source. It would be the cleanest solution. Zin would hate me, sure, but he'd get over it. Blood ties ran deeper than emotions, and I was his brother. A fucking girl wouldn't come between us.

And yet... I let out a frustrated sigh, pacing the room as my mind churned. This wasn't just about business anymore; it was about him. Zin wasn't acting like this was some fleeting attraction. He was acting like she mattered-like she was different. And that? That was what made her dangerous.

My fist slammed down on the desk, the sound slicing through the silence. Dammit. Maybe I needed to wait-just a little longer. Let Mikhail dig up her story, find out what the hell made her so captivating.

For now, she'd live. But she wouldn't stay out of my crosshairs for long.