The predator

I always hated mornings.

Even when I was a four-year-old-naive and curious little boy.

Waking up to the same damn world that never understood shit about me. The sunlight? It felt like a fucking burning light, burning through my skin, exposing every twisted thought I tried to keep hidden. Other kids-those little morons-laughing and running around like life was a goddamn fairy tale.

I watched them from the shadows, always disgusted and bothered by something I couldn't understand.

I wasn't like them. Never was. Never would be.

They were the worst. That's when I had to play nice. Smile, nod, pretend to give a shit about their useless lives. It made me sick. Every fake grin felt like swallowing small shards of glass.

Even my teacher had to call my parents to the school just because I smashed open a fool's head cause he made fun of my sister's ponytails.

I mean she did looked a bit funny with those green clips but the point was, no one mess with Romanovskis.

The point was-I hated mornings.

The sun barely entered the room when I sat at the edge of the bed with my knuckles white, and gripping the edge with force I could barely control.

Her scent still lingered in the air. All sweet, sultry, and just a bit tainted by the sweat and fear I'd wrung out of her.

I looked over my shoulder at her sleeping form, bruised and marked like a canvas I'd painted with my rage.

Beautiful. Broken. Mine.

Desire become hunger and hunger become need.

My cock twitched once again when I should just wrung her delicate little neck and watch the life drain out of her beautiful orbs.

Eyes that cried for me begging me to stop.

Women always say 'stop,' but their bodies speak a different language. They liked to be claimed. They needed it. She was no different. She couldn't be any more different.

She shouldn't have gone behind my back. Shouldn't have looked at him. Shouldn't have even thought of him. Shouldn't have tried to outsmart me.

I could snap her neck right now, end it all. But where's the fun in that? No, she was useful. Not just for the pleasure she gave me, but for the chaos she caused in my head. I needed that chaos to remain sane. It kept me sharp. Kept me angry.

And the more I looked at her, the more I wanted to kill that bastard.

Morozov.

That son of a bitch. I'd skin him alive.

I stood, dragged a hand through my hair, forcing the heat to simmer down. The blood in my veins ran thick with the venom. The clock ticked in the corner, mocking me with its steady rhythm. Time moved for others. For me, it was just another prison.

The longer I'd wait, the worse it'd get.

Like I predicted, Ivan did tried to reach her.

The question was-how much did he managed to manipulate my beautiful bird?

If my assumptions were correct, he must've proposed a deal. Or offered her something or anything to give her what she wanted most.

People usually tend to swept by the offers they couldn't refuse.

Right now my little bird wanted nothing more than to get away from me.

I lit up the cigarette before grabbing the robe.

I hope this would give Ivan a reminder that he shouldn't mess with me. Like I wouldn't know he was fucking spying on me. He possibly shouldn't my own pawn against me. Even if he would, I was always two steps ahead.

Things happen because I let them, not otherwise.

I stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I needed to focus. Too much was at stake.

Kyle was waiting in the study. His face already set in that disappointed expression he thought I didn't notice. He had got a mouth on him, that one. Always did. But he knew his place, or at least he would.

As soon as I entered, his eyes flicked up from the documents on the table, and he narrowed his eyes. "You look like you hit the ground, sir. Rough night?"

I narrowed my eyes in return and walked to the chair.

"A long one. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Kyle leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Shame you didn't bring me to Italy. I would've handled things better. Cleaner. Your little bird wouldn't have tried to get back with her lover if you were here."

My jaw ticked.

Cleaner. I suppressed a laugh. Kyle was good, but not better. He thought too much. Overplaned. I worked on instinct. On impulse. That was what separated men like me from men like him. He couldn't see past the riddles, couldn't understand what real power meant.

"Italy," I muttered, pacing in front of him, my mind barely holding onto the present. "Italy was business. Not your kind of business."

"Is that so?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "And what exactly did you accomplish without me there to babysit?"

I stopped, hands flexing into fists. "Rein that tongue, Molotov. Control is not a leash. It's the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want." I stepped closer, towering over him. "And I don't need you telling me how to handle my own damn business. If I tell you to babysit, you will."

Kyle did something I had never expected.

He fucking rolled his eyes. And I didn't know if I should be perplexed or angry. "You're losing your edge, Judas. Can't even keep track of who your woman meets. Morozov? Really?"

A growl raise in my throat, but I held it back. He was testing me. He wanted to see if I'd snap. "She'll learn. Just like the others. I'm not done with her yet."

"You sure?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Looked like she was handling you pretty well last night. Or maybe it's the other way around. You two play such interesting games."

My fingers twitced and the urge to wrap them around his neck became almost unbearable. But I kept it in check. Barely. "Enough."

Kyle leaned forward, the grin dropping. "You're slipping, Judas. First Ivan, now Lucius. What's the plan? You're going after Russia's government, but you haven't told me shit about how we're getting the guns in. The shipment? The arms?"

I walked over to the window, the city below spread out like prey. My territory. My future kingdom. And Lucius…he was just the first domino to fall. "The shipment's on its way. We'll have the guns and explosives in by next week. The timing has to be perfect. We strike when Lucius is weakest-when he thinks he's untouchable."

Kyle stood, walking up beside me. "And you think the government will just roll over once we take him out?"

I laughed, cold and low. "They won't have a choice. Power's not in titles or positions. It's in fear. And Lucius has kept them afraid for too long. It's time to remind them what real fucking terror looks like."

Kyle smiled, his eyes glinting with interest. "And after we take him down?"

"Then we burn everything to the fucking ground." My voice is sharp, every word edged in steel. "I want Russia bleeding. I want them crawling. And when they do, I'll be the one standing on their corpses. And you'll be there, Kyle, if you can keep your fucking mouth shut long enough to see it happen."

Kyle scoffed before stepping back. "Sounds fun. But don't forget-you need me for this."

I turned, locking eyes with him. "Don't flatter yourself."

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. "You always did have a way with words."

I smiled, but it's more a baring of teeth than anything else. "Words are for the weak. I'll show Lucius, all of them what real power looks like. Russia will belong to me."

"And her?" Kyle asked, his tone shifting, just enough to make me want to tear the smirk off his face. "What about your little bird?"

I glanced back toward the room, where she slept, oblivious to the storm that was about to hit. "She'll learn her place. Just like everyone else."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

I didn't answer. There was no need. He'd see soon enough. Everyone would.

"Get ready," I said, turning my back to him. "The guns are just the beginning. When the dust settles, there won't be a single soul left standing except me."

Kyle chuckled softly behind me, his voice barely audible as I walked away. "Always so dramatic, sir."

But I didn't care. Drama? It was not drama. It was chaos.