Her Alluring Scent: Deadly Obsession With The Bratva Boss's Wife

I heaved out after puffing on the tobacco smoke, and just then, the filthy asshole blood splashed on my face. With my jaw clenched, I tilted my head down at the man I had just blown his skull, gasping for air with chucks of blood splashing from his mouth. “What the f**k!” I cussed, swiping the blood off with the back of my hand. The reck of blood is always so irritating. Too bad, It's a smell I got to inhale every f*****g day. Not like I love to but it's my job, my f*****g responsibility as the adopted son of Viktor Kovalchuff. Well, can I call myself his adopted son? Does an adopted son not get the privilege to be known and treated as one, perhaps it was just a feeling curled up in my brain that I am one since Don Viktor Kovalchuff has always been my father figure. My name is Aleksandr, a poor seven years old boy saved by the Bratva Boss while on the verge of dying from starvation in the dirty street of the ‘Moscow orphan’ neighborhood. It won't be absurd to hear I live all my life serving him and the Kovalchuff clan; he's my savior after all. Taught and trained to be ruthless and fierce, I grew up in the cruel cage of the notorious Russian Mafia - we all fought for survival, laying our lives in line for victory. If you lose, you die. Not to go too far in the dangerous cub of my life, you'd have imagined how cruel and ruthless I’ve turned out to be - living twenty-two years of my life fighting against the guns and hefty men called mafias lions. “Please. Please. Lord Aleksandr, please,” the man begged, clamping his hands together as he knelt in front of me. I tilted my head down to look at him when I felt a stronghold hindering me from moving - he held onto my legs. He actually has the guts to stain my white trousers with his blood-stained hands. I clenched my fists, tightening my forefinger on the trigger, and without wasting further seconds, I bowed up his skull - the fire sound thundering as it echoed through the room. “Lo..r…” he fell, gasping for breath with his blood oozed out of his mouth. “In your next life, you don't mess with the Kovalchuffs..” I muttered and yanked his hands off my legs before heading to the door. “Boss,” Ivan called, making me stop on my track abruptly. “What do we do with the little boy?” he pointed to the three years old boy sobbing as he clutched onto the man’s clothes. “Dad..dy! Da..ddy!” the boy cried. The rebel son, I guess. I strained my eyes, my brow arching up in a frown. What do I do with the little boy? All tracks must be cleaned and clear else I face Viktor’s wrath and end up in jail. That's what I would never allow to happen, not after spending twenty two years of torture in the Kovalchuffs clan, but all for it to end up in jail. Only God knows the murder charges that would be hanging on my neck - hundreds? “A three years old boy speaks, you know,” I said and walked out of the room, with the clear mind that he got my message - to kill him off. Nothing must point to us as the killer. And as it's the clan rule on any mission to ‘clear off anytime that speaks’ I guess not even a feeble soul can change that. Just as I stepped out of the house briskly puffing on a long streak of tobacco smoke, I heard a loud gunshot. I smirked and presumed Ivan had done the job without stress; I guess he was turning slowly into a real bratva as I've always taught him just as I'm known in the whole clan, responsibility comes before any feelings, and all my actions shall be ignited only by Don Viktor’s words. Ivan is a young boy I personally loved while training some young boys we rampage from the rebel clans. I love his thirst for survival and his stained gaze; he always reminds me of when I was little with a naive but bold eye - well, I do hear from Viktor himself that the look he saw in my eyes that day made him bring me in. “Boss” Ivan emerged behind me, his hands dripping with blood. He got hurt earlier while struggling for the chest key with the rebel boss, the man I just killed. “You look awful. Make sure to get some treats when we get home” I mumbled, just then a loud sound blared up from my jacket. “Geez! Whom the f**k is disturbing the sacred hour of the dead” I muttered, flinging the buttons open before drawing the phone out. My heart pounded, and my eyes widened as I saw the caller ID- Boss Viktor? He rarely calls; what could be the reason for this sudden call? And, was he not at Malta- I guess for some reckless f*****g as usual? After the sudden demise of his wife, all he does is goes on a long travel to f**k all the different p*****s of tight girls. “Boss,” I mumbled, tilting the phone toward my ear. “The key?” He asked, his voice followed by a groan. “It was secured” I responded, bowing to his imaginary image - well, fearing him was embedded in me already. His ferocious face and voice always sent shivers down my spine whenever it thundered into my ears. FLASHBACK “You can't do better than that!” He glowered hoarsely, clenching his fist and before the little seven years old me would realize, he pounced a hefty punch on my jaw. “I…I..” I stuttered, crawling towards his feet. “I will do it. I will sho.ot... Please just don't chase me out” I clamped my trembling hands together with my head bowed at his feet. FLASHBACK ENDS* “Clean off and head to the mansion with the boys. You're all meeting the new lady of the house today,” he said and hung up immediately before I could say any other words. New lady of the house? Obviously, that's him saying he's bringing in a new wife. But who? From where? All of a sudden without prior notice or any talk of her. Well, my heart greatly anticipated to this new lady who has hypnotized the ruthless Viktor into making her his sudden wife. I hope she doesn't let my shoulders down upon meeting her. I'd really love to see her, her face, her look, her curves who exactly she is. “To the big house,” I said, briskly walking to the car. Ivan ran to my front, opening the door before I approached it. So respectful of him- it actually feels good seeing someone tends to me just like I does to Don Viktor. I felt like a boss in my own little world with the title ‘Lord Aleksandr’ that I do hear wherever I go. We entered the car, and wasting any minute; he zoomed off, splashing the dirt and mud on any sluggish person alongside the roadside. Who dares talk or glower to a car with the Kovalchuff’s clan logo - a roaring lion head. “Why the big house?” Ivan asked, keeping his gaze on the wheel. “To welcome the new Madame” I replied, looking down on my bloodstained white pants. “f**k that old ass. Now, I have an extra to pay for dry cleaning” I gritted, brushing the stain off - like it'd be cleaned off. “New Madame?” he snapped, jerking his head back to where I was seated. “Don't f*****g get us killed and face the wheel!” I gritted, slapping his face. “Boss is bringing in a new wife?” he murmured, tilting his head back. “Wow! I bet she'll be curvy. You know Boss has the knack for hot girls,” he exclaimed excitedly. “I guess she would,” I mumbled with a soft smile. Ivan is right; Boss loves hot, curvy girls. Well, who doesn't? All men do, especially one that crazily controls her tiny pelvis on the d**k.