Beta's Mark: In the Eye of the Mafia

Chapter 4:You’ll be safe with Vivian

The sleek black SUV rolled through the forest, its engine a low growl beneath the weight of the night’s tension. Viktor sat in the backseat, his fingers clenched together, eyes distant as the dark trees flashed by. His thoughts were tangled in the complexity of the pack’s responsibilities, his son, and the fierce woman sitting beside him. The calm didn’t last long.

Luca, his son, sat across from him, fidgeting with his leather jacket, his gaze nervously flicking to the passing landscape. The innocence in the boy’s eyes always unsettled Viktor. Luca was a reminder of the oath Viktor had sworn to protect—his family, no matter what the cost.

Viktor’s gaze softened as he looked at Luca. "You’ll be safe with Vivian," he said, his voice a rare whisper in the quiet of the vehicle. "Stay with her. Trust her and listen to everything she says."

Luca hesitated, his small hands gripping the seat as he watched his father. "But... where are you going, Daddy?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Viktor swallowed, feeling the tightness in his chest at the question. He pushed the guilt aside, a father’s duty burning brighter. "I’ll be back soon. Just stay close to Vivian. She’ll keep you safe."

Luca nodded, but the unease didn’t leave his face. Viktor leaned forward, ruffling his son’s hair. "We’re here."

The SUV came to a smooth stop at the edge of a dark clearing. In the distance, the shadow of an ancient, fortified building loomed, its windows glowing faintly from within. Viktor stepped out first, offering his hand to Luca. "Wait here with Vivian, okay? I’ll only be gone for a while."

Luca nodded, though doubt remained in his eyes. Viktor exchanged a look with Lyra, who had already stepped out of the vehicle. Her presence was steady, her loyalty undeniable, even as he entrusted her with his son’s safety.

"Vivian," Viktor’s voice was low but commanding. "Keep him safe. Under guard, of course."

She gave him a reassuring nod, a faint smile curling her lips. "Of course, Viktor. I’ll keep him safe."

The bond between them was silent but undeniable. Viktor trusted her implicitly with his life, and by extension, the life of his son.

With a heavy heart, Viktor turned, his thoughts drifting from his son to the dangerous task ahead. As he and Lyra moved through the dark woods toward the hidden door to the ancient stronghold, the howling wind and rustling leaves faded into the background. They weren’t here for distractions. They were here for something far more pressing.

Inside, the air was thick with tension, the walls lined with old relics, weapons, and mystical items. This was no ordinary den—this was where Viktor did his real work, far away from the eyes of the pack.

"Stay close," Viktor murmured to Lyra, his tone hardening as he approached a hidden rack of weapons. His hands quickly checked a gleaming silver blade, its edge sharp, before his attention turned to Lyra. He knew the weight of this world all too well—he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

He handed her a dagger, the hilt smooth in her hand. Their fingers brushed, and the unspoken trust passed between them. "Keep this with you," Viktor said, his voice steady but laced with something more—a quiet protectiveness. "It’s for your safety."

Lyra didn’t hesitate. She tucked the blade into her belt with practiced ease, her gaze unwavering. "I’ve been in this world long enough," she replied, her voice calm, though there was a razor’s edge beneath it. "I know how to protect myself."

Viktor didn’t question her strength. But even so, the unease gnawed at him. "Just be careful," he muttered, stepping closer, his presence filling the space between them.

A long silence stretched out as they stood among the weapons and shadows. Viktor’s eyes softened, a moment of vulnerability breaking through his usually steely demeanor. His gaze met hers, and for a fleeting instant, something passed between them—a shared memory, a history of loss.

"I’ve been waiting for you to come back," Viktor said quietly, his voice softer than she had ever heard it before. "Since you left... everything has felt wrong without you."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Lyra’s expression tightened, and she turned away, as if trying to suppress the emotions that rose within her. "It was a mistake, Viktor," she said, her voice low and edged with sorrow. "Sleeping with you... It was a mistake, especially after everything that happened with my brother."

Viktor’s chest tightened at the mention of his friend's name. David, taken far too soon, and the grief that followed had shaped everything afterward. But Viktor couldn’t ignore the truth. He had never intended to hurt Lyra, and yet, in a twisted way, he had.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Viktor said softly, stepping closer. His voice carried regret and longing, but there was no denying the truth behind his words. "I care about you. I always have. I’ve been waiting for you to come back."

Lyra looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow, the loss of her brother casting a heavy shadow over every word. "You don’t understand," she said, her voice trembling with fury and pain. "I’m angry—irrationally angry at you, at everything. My brother's gone, and I don’t know how to deal with it. What we did... It only makes it worse. I don’t know if I can forgive you, Viktor."

Her words struck deep, more than he was ready to admit, but he remained firm. He had never been one to avoid the truth. "I know you’re angry, Lyra," he said softly. "And I know you’re grieving. But I never wanted to add to your pain. I just wanted you to be here, with me."

Lyra shook her head, stepping back from him, her breath coming in quick, jagged gasps. But Viktor wasn’t about to let her retreat. He reached for her, gently pulling her back toward him. His lips brushed against hers in a kiss that started slow but deepened quickly, the years of unspoken longing and hurt igniting in a single moment.

Before they could lose themselves in the kiss, the door to the back room slammed open, and a young man rushed in, breath ragged, his face pale with panic.

"Viktor," the man gasped, his voice tight with fear. "The Russian pack—they’ve attacked one of our territories. The one near the eastern border. It’s under siege."

Viktor’s face hardened, the gravity of the news sinking in like a punch to the gut. He pulled away from Lyra, his focus sharp, his mind already moving. The Russian pack had made their move, and everything they had worked for was on the line.

"Gather the force," Viktor commanded, his voice low and commanding. "We leave now."

He turned to Lyra, his gaze softening only for a moment before urgency gripped him. "I have to go," he said, brushing a hand across her cheek before he pulled away. "Stay in the car. Stay safe."

Lyra stood still, motionless, as Viktor turned to leave, the weight of what was to come pressing down on her. She didn’t know what was coming next, but she knew one thing for sure—things were about to get much worse.

She was caught in the storm now, and there was no turning back.