TWISTED VOW

PAYBACK

CHAPTER 4: PAYBACK

Elena slammed her foot onto the accelerator, driving the battered, bullet-riddled SUV straight through the front glass doors of The Obsidian—the exclusive, underground gambling club her father operated in the heart of the city's financial district.

The heavy vehicle shattered the tempered glass into a million glittering shards, plowing directly into the marble lobby and crushing the velvet ropes against the reception desk. Screams echoed through the grand entrance as high-paying patrons and low-level guards scattered like roaches in the light.

Lev stepped out of the passenger side, his bleeding arm wrapped tightly in black tactical tape, a heavy assault rifle held firmly in his good hand. Elena stepped out right beside him, wearing Lev’s oversized black leather coat over her bloody wedding gown, her Glock held low and ready at her side.

They moved up the grand double staircase like a two-person execution squad. Two club guards rushed to the top landing with drawn weapons, but Lev didn't even slow his stride—he fired two short bursts, knocking both men off their feet before they could clear their holsters.

Lev kicked the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP suite open with enough force to shatter the lock mechanisms.

Inside, Arthur Cornelia was standing behind a brass-trimmed bar, mid-pour with a crystal decanter of expensive scotch. Sitting across from him on a plush leather sofa was Marco Moretti—the dark-haired, arrogant heir to the city's rival Italian syndicate.

Arthur dropped the decanter. It shattered on the hardwood, splashing dark alcohol across his polished shoes. "Lev?! How... how the hell are you still breathing?!"

"You picked a terrible night to double-cross me, Arthur," Lev said, his baritone voice dropping into a register so quiet and deadly that the air in the room seemed to freeze.

Marco Moretti reached toward his armpit for his shoulder holster, but Lev instantly raised his rifle and fired a single round into the ceiling directly above Moretti’s head. Plaster and dust rained down onto his designer suit.

"Put your hands flat on the glass table, Marco," Lev commanded, his eyes burning into the Italian boss. "Or the next round tears a hole straight through your nose."

Moretti slowly raised his hands, sweat instantly breaking out across his forehead. "Lev, wait! Listen to me! This was all Arthur! He came to my family three days ago! He said he would trade his daughter’s access codes to your shipping lanes if we helped him eliminate your convoy!"

Elena stepped out from behind Lev's shoulder, her eyes cold as polished steel.

Arthur turned his head, his face turning paper-white as he locked eyes with his daughter. "Elena! Baby, thank God you're safe! Tell him! Tell him I organized this whole thing to rescue you from this monster!"

"Shut your mouth, Arthur," Elena said, her voice dropping all the polite sweetness she had used to survive under his roof. "You didn't do a single thing to save me. You took Moretti’s cash, set up the hit on Lev, and promised to ship me out of the country to the Italian family as an extra bargaining chip."

Arthur began to tremble, his knees visibly shaking inside his trousers. "Elena... I'm your father! I gave you everything!"

"You gave me my mother's medical bills and a debt you were too weak to pay yourself," Elena spat back, stepping over the shattered glass on the floor. She turned her glance to Lev. "He has three off-book bank accounts registered in Zurich under my mother's maiden name. There is fifty million dollars sitting in them—the money he embezzled from the Volkov accounts over the past two years."

Lev’s icy gaze snapped to Moretti. "Is that where you got the capital to buy those new automatic rifles for your men, Marco?"

Moretti swallowed hard, shaking his head frantically. "I didn't know the money came from your accounts, Volkov! I swear on my mother's grave!"

"You have sixty minutes to pull every single one of your soldiers out of the North End," Lev told Moretti, his voice completely devoid of mercy. "Wire every dollar back to my central account. If I see a single Moretti soldier in this city by midnight, I won't just kill you. I will wipe your entire bloodline off the map."

Moretti didn't wait to hear another word. He scrambled off the sofa and ran out of the VIP room like a terrified animal, leaving Arthur standing completely alone in the center of the room.

Arthur dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks as he reached out toward Elena. "Elena... please! Don't let him do this! I'm your own flesh and blood!"

Elena looked down at the man who had sold her away like a piece of livestock without a second thought. She felt no anger left in her chest. No sadness. Just a clean, cold absolute silence.

"You traded away our blood the moment you put a price tag on my life, Arthur," she said softly.

She turned her back on him and began walking toward the exit.

Behind her, she heard the heavy metallic click of Lev’s rifle clearing, followed by Arthur’s desperate, high-pitched sobbing. Then, a single gunshot echoed through the room.

Elena didn't flinch. She kept her pace, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floorboards.

A moment later, Lev caught up with her in the hallway, wiping a smear of blood off his cheek. He reached down, his large, calloused hand wrapping around hers—not with a grip of force or ownership, but with the solid, unbreakable weight of a true partner.

"Are you holding up, little bird?" Lev asked quietly.

Elena looked up into his ice-blue eyes, her grip tightening around his fingers. "I'm better than okay, Lev. Let's go home and clean up your arm."