Shadow of the Vladimir

Chapter4

"Are you insane?" She shrieked, her eyes wide with terror and disbelief. "Why would you shoot your own mother?" She knew he was volatile, but this was beyond madness.

Death advanced, each deliberate step forcing her to swallow hard, her breath catching in her throat, her heart a frantic drumbeat against his suffocating presence. He stopped before her, bending slightly, his fingers closing around her chin.

"I operate solely on your orders, ksena. My personal life is beyond your purview. You were spared last time. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness" his voice, slow and measured, sent icy tendrils down her spine. He released her chin, straightening "I am not your instrument. Interfare again, and I will end you".

He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "Incompetent" he spat at Sergie before vanishing.

Sergies anger churned within him, but he masked it. He found Ksena, her face pale and clammy, blood welling from her arm. He pulled out his phone. " Get to my mother's suite immediately." He ended the call and then moved towards her, his movement gentle. But Ksena shot out a vicious kick that sent him crashing into a nearby desk.

"You are a liability," ksena hissed, her voice laced with venom. " Without Death, you'd be nothing but a corpse. Sometimes I question your percentage ". Her words, fueled by the lingering terror of her encounter with death, lashed out at Sergie, a convenient target for her fear.

" You shouldn't have sent him" Sergie roared, his voice thick with furry. " I could handle it myself" his frustration, already raw from the mission's failure and Death intervention, now boiled over, fueled by his mother's stinging words.

Ksena advanced, her hand a blur as it connected to his cheek. "Smack." Her eyes, bloodshot with rage, bore into him. " Can you hear yourself? You could have handled them? They were going to kill you, you fool, and send your corpse back to us. You are not just useless; you are utterly brainless ". She retreated to the sofa, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through her arm.

Sergei's gaze remained fixed on his mother, his expression a mask of desperate entreaty. " Mother, please," he begged, his voice laced with forced conviction. " Just one more chance. I swear, I will succeed this time. I'll return unscathed". He held her gaze, changing to the familiar words he'd used countless times.

"That's enough," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "You are finished with a mission." Sergie's eyes widened, disbelief etching his features. "But mother " he pleaded, his voice cracking. " How else can I prove myself to you?".

Ksena ignored him, her attention now focused on the doctor and his assistant, who entered in their white coats. Sergei, seething with frustration, stormed out. As he passed the guards, he noticed their furtive glances, a clear sign the news of his failure had spread. His rage boiled over. Without warning, he drew his weapon and fired, the bullet tearing into a guard's arm, a brutal display of his fury.

He stormed into his room, a whirlwind of fury, and began to dismantle it. Furniture crashed, objects shattered, all victims of his uncontrolled rage. "Lev.... Lev..." He hissed, his voice a venomous whisper.

"Why? What makes him so special? Why is he always favored?" His eyes, bloodshot and filled with raw resentment, mirrored the chaos he created.

Just then, his right-hand man entered, his expression calm. "Boss, this accomplishes nothing. Focus on regaining your mother's trust. Without it, you are powerless". He moved closer, his voice a steady presence.

The sound of shattering objects ceased as Sergie turned to him, his expression a mask of defeat. "Micheal," he pleaded, his voice heavy with despair, "why am I always seen as inferior to Lev?".

Micheal seeing Sergie's desolate state, felt a wave of sympathy. "No, boss", he began, placing his hands firmly on Sergie's shoulders, "You are not inferior. Your greatest obstacle is your emotions. You allow them to dictate your actions".

Sergie Inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. " Then what should I do?" he asked, his voice laced with anxiety, his eyes pleading for guidance.

Micheal, not only his right-hand man but also his closest confidant, moved closer and whispered into Sergie's ears. Sergie eyes widened, a spark of excitement igniting within them. His dejected posture vanished, replaced by a mischievous grin.

Micheal summoned the maids to clean Sergei's suite which they swiftly accomplished within thirty minutes. Following their exits, Micheal began treating the wound on Sergie's knuckles.

With the room cleared, the wound tended, and the remnant of Sergei's rage swept away, Micheal prepared to depart. " Boss, I'll take my leave", he announced.

A beat of silence stretched, and then Sergie's voice cut through the stillness. " Two girls, make it happen", the casual command, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos, hung heavy in the air.

" Boss, won't Capo find out?" Micheal asked, his brow furrowed with concern. " She won't be pleased". He knew Sergie's appetite and Capo's disapproval was a dangerous thing.

"Don't concern yourself", Sergie retorted, his voice laced with dismissive confidence. "Just do as I command. The rest is my concern". He turned and disappeared into his bedroom, ending the conversation.

Death's mansion

Death slept, his features twisted in a silent struggle, his body slick with sweat. He was reliving a nightmare, a scene etched into his memory.

A young Lev no more than seven, ran with unbridled joy towards his father's suite, a secret burning in his heart. Inside, he found his father, a lifeless form riddled with a bullet, and a masked figure vanished into the shadows.

"Papa... Papa..." Lev's cries echoed, but his father was gone. He dies in his son's embrace.

Death's eyes snapped open, his face drained of color. The recurring nightmare, a constant reminder of his past, has once again claimed his sleep.

Sleep was a rare and unwelcome visitor to Death's nights, and when it did come, it brought only the torment of his father's murder. He rose, seeking the numbing chill of a cold shower. Afterward, he approached a drawer, his movement precise and deliberate. He opened it and retrieved a photograph. The face staring back was his own, an unsettling mirror image.

"Papa" he muttered, gently stroking the picture, his touch a silent expression of love. He walked to the balcony, sinking into a chair, his eyes never leaving the photograph, lost in memories.

Galina's suite

A maid's persistent nudging woke Galina, the woman trying to coax her into a sitting position. " Go away," Galina mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. "I want to sleep."

"Miss, please, you have to get up," the maid pleaded, her voice trembling slightly. "The kitchen head maid will have your hide if you don't move," she gently shook Galina, her anxiety growing ".

The word "kitchen " jolted Galina awake, her body tensing. " What's happening in the kitchen " she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Lord Death has placed you in the kitchen ", the maid stated "Your role will be to assist with the meal preparation and other duties"

Galina now fully awake, felt a surge of relief. At least she wouldn't have to endure the leering gazes of high-rolling patrons in the casino. With a newfound lightness, she rose. "Let me freshen up," she said, her voice bright " I will be right back."

The maid remained seated on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting. Moments later, Galina emerged, wrapped in a plush bathrobe. " Um, what sort of clothes should I wear? she asked, her face illuminated by the soft morning light.

The maid gestured towards a chair in the corner of the room, where a folded uniform lay. Galina approached and lifted the garments. A short and a fitted top.

"Which section of the kitchen is this?" Galina asked, her brow furrowed as she began to dress. " Because this uniform is quite different from yours".

"You'll understand when we arrive", the maid said, her voice laced with a hint of warning. "Just remember, in this organization, only the strongest survive." Galina nodded, a flicker of unease in her eyes.

As Galina completed her attire, the maid's gaze was one of surprised admiration. It was uncommon to see someone look so captivating in such a simple uniform.

" This skirt is far too short", Galina protested, eyeing the hemline that stopped well above her knees.

"You look perfectly acceptable", the maid interrupted her. "Believe me, that's the most modest skirt in this place". Galina's gaze fell on the maid's skirt, which was even more revealing.

" May I ask your name?" Galina inquired, offering a warm smile.

"Paola", the maid answered

"It's a pleasure, I am Galina"

"Shall we go?" Paola suggested, her voice gentle but firm. " The head maid won't be happy if we are late".

They left the suite and began their journey towards the kitchen when Paol

a suddenly froze, seizing Galina's wrist and trying to retreat, a look of panic on her face.