Page 21 of Relentless Sinner

I was told my father wouldn't even hold me when I was born. It was Eric, my father’s best friend, and his wife who took care of me. They raised me like a son. Jacob did the rest, and they were my family.

When Jacob died I was so lost I got hooked on drugs.

My father saw that as an opportunity to be rid of me. He didn’t even care that I was his only heir to the empire. He wanted me dead, so he paid off my dealer to give me a bad batch of drugs that should have killed me instantly.

It was Cillian's father who stopped me from taking it. He never explained how he knew the drugs had been messed with, only that it was on my father’s orders.

That gave me the wake-up call I needed and reminded me who I was and what I could become.

More importantly, I was reminded of my mother’s love in bringing me into this world.

I rose like a phoenix from the ashes, deciding to claim what was rightfully mine. I’ve worked hard since then to build my own empire.

I ride through the iron gates of the grounds and park on the drive.

The unwelcoming atmosphere is the first thing that greets me when I step inside the house.

This home has held a multitude of functions and parties that should have given it life but it has always felt like a graveyard to me.

I make my way down the hallway, lined with my mother’s paintings on either side. She was an artist. The only good thing about this house is that my father filled it with her art.

Her vibrant, creative work is possibly the only thing that keeps this house from feeling like a tomb.

When I walk into the meeting room—into the den of vipers—I notice that everyone is here. I’m early but I guess everyone was eager to attend this meeting because they want to know what’s happening next.

It was announced at the last one that I would be taking over from my father.

Although I won hands down, fair and square, my win infuriated my uncle Magnus and Levka, my cousin. Up until my plan to marry Gabriella, Levka was set to win because he landed a deal with the Japanese government that would have brought in a few more million per year.

My plan wiped his off the table, but if I hadn’t gotten Gabriella back there would have been no plan.

Father is sitting in his wheelchair at the head of the table, his white hair like a halo over his head. He just turned sixty-five but his illness has aged him significantly, making him look weaker and much older than his years.

Although he’s most likely been in bed all day, he’s wearing a suit, just like he would at the office.

Surrounding him are Eric, my uncles Magnus and Damian, and my cousins Levka and Yuri, who are all part of the senior management team and the elite on the Bratva. Next to them is Micah, my best friend.

Micah is part of the Italian Mafia and the only Italian allowed to sit in this meeting because of the business venture he has with me.

The only people who look pleased to see me are him and Eric. To everyone else I may as well be a ghost.

I dip my head, acknowledging everyone when I walk into the room. At least my father acknowledges me. I take my place on his right hand, as Sovietnik—his second-in-command.

“Wonderful. We're all here,” Father says in his deep Russian accent. “Let us begin.”

I catch Magnus' stern face and Levka, who looks no different from his father. Magnus is the second oldest Bortsov brother and Levka the oldest cousin, older than me by two years.

They’re both still pissed that I got the Pakhan position but I don’t give a fuck. Damian and Yuri wear the same put-out expression because they were hoping that one of them would become second-in-command if Levka became Pakhan.

How fucking dare they think they should be entitled to take my birthright? It’s ridiculous that they had all these plans. None of which included me.

If this were any other organization it would be unheard of. It would even be unthinkable for my father to insult me the way he has by making me compete for the position.

“With the handover of leadership there are a lot of changes we need to consider,” Father declares. “I’d like to go over that today.”

I glance at him and take in the tremor in his hands. There was a time when all he lived for was being the Pakhan. It made him a god and the men treated him as such.

I’ve often thought that his demand to hold the meetings here helps him maintain some power and control. If he had to head into the city to go to the office everyone would see how weak he is. Friend and foe alike.