Damien Volkov did not tolerate failure.

He sat in the dim glow of his private study, his black-gloved fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his desk. The dim light caught on the gold rings wrapped around his fingers, glinting as he moved. His other hand held a half-empty crystal glass of whiskey, though he barely touched it.

His gaze was fixed on the woman kneeling before him.

Natalya Volkov.

His wife. His queen. A woman bred for this life-raised in blood, married into power.

And yet, she had forgotten her place.

She knelt on the cold marble floor, still dressed in one of her elegant silk gowns. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her trembling hands gripping the hem of her dress as she bowed her head.

She was afraid.

Good.

She had lied to him.

Not about something vital. Not about business, or money, or loyalty. No, it had been something small, something insignificant. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that she had dared.

Damien leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee as he gazed down at her.

"Natalya." His voice was smooth, low. Dangerous.

She flinched at the way he said her name.

"You disappoint me."

"I-I didn't mean-"

A sharp crack echoed through the room as Damien flung the whiskey glass against the wall.

Natalya jerked, biting back a gasp as shards of glass rained down onto the floor beside her.

"Do you think I care what you meant?" Damien murmured, his voice calm again-eerily calm.

Natalya swallowed hard. "No, I-"

"Then why are you still speaking?"

She froze.

Damien exhaled slowly, leaning back into his chair.

He had never loved her.

She had never expected him to.

But she had enjoyed a comfortable life, hadn't she? The luxury, the security, the fear that kept everyone else in check.

And yet, she had made the mistake of thinking she was different.

That because she had given him children, because she had been by his side for years, she was somehow untouchable.

Damien tilted his head. "What am I supposed to do with you now?"

Natalya's lips parted slightly, her eyes darting up to meet his. "I-I can fix it."

Damien chuckled. It was a dark, hollow sound. "Fix it?"

She nodded quickly. "I won't-I won't question you again."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a black leather glove-identical to the one he had sent Luca.

With slow, deliberate movements, he slid it over his hand, smoothing the fabric over his knuckles.

"Natalya," he murmured. "Do you think you still have a choice?"

Her breath hitched. "Damien-"

His hand closed around her throat.

Natalya let out a choked gasp, her hands flying up to claw at his wrist.

Damien didn't squeeze. Not yet.

He simply held her there, forcing her to look into his eyes. Forcing her to understand.

"You are nothing to me," he whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"You are a name on paper. A womb for my bloodline. A puppet I allow to wear my ring." His grip tightened slightly. "If you forget that again, I will not be so generous."

Her nails dug into his wrist, her breath coming in frantic little gasps.

Damien finally released her, shoving her back onto the floor.

She collapsed, coughing, shaking.

He stood, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "Get out."

Natalya scrambled to her feet, her heels slipping against the marble as she staggered toward the door.

She didn't look back.

Damien poured himself another drink, taking a slow sip as the door clicked shut behind her.

Then, he pulled out his phone.

A message from his men was waiting.

Luca tried to run.

Damien smirked.

How adorable.

---

Luca Ivanov was running out of time.

The moment he had woken up, he knew something was wrong.

His apartment felt different.

Like it had been touched.

Like someone had been inside.

The black box was still sitting on his desk, but the note was gone.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

He hadn't thrown it away. He hadn't touched it since last night.

Which meant-

Someone else had.

Luca grabbed his bag, shoving his phone and wallet inside with trembling hands.

He needed to go. Now.

He threw on his coat, barely pausing to slip on his shoes before heading for the door. His pulse was hammering, his breath shaky as he unlocked the deadbolt-

And froze.

A man was waiting for him.

Tall, broad, dressed in black, with cold, empty eyes.

Luca's stomach plummeted.

He tried to slam the door shut, but the man caught it effortlessly, pushing it back open like it was nothing.

"No need for that," the man murmured, stepping inside.

Luca stumbled back, his chest heaving.

"W-Who are you?" His voice shook.

The man smiled. It wasn't friendly.

"Someone who was told to bring you in."

Bring him in.

Luca's mind went blank with fear.

No. No, no, no-

He turned and ran.

He barely made it two steps before the man grabbed him, shoving him hard against the wall.

Luca let out a gasp of pain, his bag falling to the floor.

"You can make this easy," the man murmured. "Or you can make it fun."

Luca kicked, thrashed, trying to break free-but the man was too strong.

This wasn't a fight.

This was a message.

Luca gritted his teeth, forcing down his panic.

He wasn't going to just let this happen.

With everything he had, he drove his knee up, aiming for the man's stomach.

The man barely flinched.

A second later, something hard slammed into the side of Luca's head.

Pain exploded through his skull, his vision blurring as his body crashed to the floor.

His ears were ringing.

His limbs felt heavy.

He was dizzy, slipping away-

The last thing he saw was a second man stepping into the apartment, holding a phone.

A deep, silky voice spoke from the speaker.

"You should have listened, sweetheart."

Then-

Darkness.

---

End of Chapter