Chaper One: Blood Oath
"He's a betrayal. Go after him and kill him!"
The boss's voice cracked through the comms—cold, final.
Lucifer Petrova sprinted through the dark alleyways of Novaya, a street in Moscow, heart pounding like war drums in his chest. The scent of gasoline and blood clung to the night air. He didn’t slow down—not even when the familiar outline of his house came into view.
Inside were his wife... and their newborn twin daughters.
“Betty, please... run with the kids,” he whispered under his breath, though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
Instinct kicked in. A lifetime in the mafia had taught him the art of silence—and the value of trusting his sixth sense.
Ducking into the shadows, he scanned the perimeter. Two armed guards at the front. One at the back.
Amateurs.
They didn’t know who they were dealing with.
Or perhaps... they did.
Maybe they just underestimated him.
One silent step after another, he crept behind the backyard guard.
A swift, brutal move.
A snapped neck.
And he was inside.
Upstairs, the bedroom door stood ajar. He barely stepped in before his world froze.
Four gunmen.
One gun pointed at Betty’s temple.
Another aimed at the baby bags on the bed—his daughters asleep, completely unaware of the barrel of death hovering near.
Lucifer’s breath hitched. “How did you find me?” he rasped.
“Shush, Lucifer...” a voice whispered from the shadows.
A man stepped forward, face obscured, but voice unmistakable.
Daemon.
“We wouldn’t want to wake the girls, would we?”
Lucifer clenched his fists. His palms were slick with sweat.
“How did you find me, Daemon?” he asked again, voice edged with steel.
“You were always the family man, Luci,” Daemon replied. “We knew if we had your family, we had you. Wasn’t that hard.”
He c****d his pistol. “Now get on your f*****g knees.”
Lucifer obeyed, hands behind his head, eyes locked on Betty.
She trembled, lips pressed tight, but her eyes... they were wide. Waiting.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Lucifer said, voice low. “But let them go. They don’t know anything.”
Daemon grinned like a man who’d already lost everything.
“Not a chance, Luci. You think the boss gives a damn? But fine. Let’s make this fun.”
He gestured with the gun.
“I’ll let your pretty little wife walk away with one kid. The other stays. One for hell, one for hope. How’s that?”
“No! You can’t!” Lucifer shouted.
“Damn you—of course I can,” Daemon barked. “Don’t forget who’s holding the gun!”
Lucifer recoiled, breathing hard. His gaze flicked to Betty, then back to Daemon.
“You were the boss’s favorite,” Daemon growled. “But this is business. You broke the code. So what’s it gonna be? Deal or no deal?”
Lucifer looked at Betty again.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Three times.
Their silent code from years of trust and war.
“Deal,” he whispered.
Daemon smirked and waved the gun toward Betty. “Take one kid. Leave. Now.”
Betty stood, trembling. She clutched one baby to her chest, tears streaming down her face.
As she passed Lucifer, her hand brushed his—just for a heartbeat—before she disappeared into the hallway.
“Let her go!” Daemon barked into his comms. “She’s got clearance.”
The moment the door shut behind her, Lucifer spoke.
“You really think the boss will spare you after this, Daemon?” he asked, voice calm. “You’re just another pawn.”
“Shut up!” Daemon snapped. His gun hand trembled slightly.
“You and I both know—he’ll toss your life just as quick as mine.”
“He gave us a life!” Daemon yelled.
“A life?” Lucifer spat. “This—this bloodbath we live—is not a life. You’re just scared. A scared little boy who thinks loyalty buys peace.”
“You don’t understand!” Daemon roared, voice cracking. “He’s all we have!”
Lucifer scoffed. “And here you are—pointing a gun at your brother.”
Daemon flinched.
Then slowly… he lowered the gun. Ran a hand through his hair.
He let out a ragged breath—and hurled his weapon across the room.
“Fine. Let’s do this without the gun. But tell me, Luci—how do I convince you to shoot yourself? The boss wants you dead. And you have to be.”
Lucifer saw it.
The break in his focus. The guilt. The inner war.
It was all he needed.
In one swift motion, Lucifer drew a hidden pistol from his inner blazer and fired—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Deamon’s men hit the floor before their fingers could twitch.
Only Daemon remained.
Lucifer rose slowly, gun still trained on him.
“You f*****g bastard,” Daemon snarled. “You dare trick me?”
“I’m sorry, brother,” Lucifer said, stepping forward. “But you left me no choice.”
Daemon lunged for his fallen gun.
Lucifer fired again—this time at the arm.
Daemon screamed as blood splattered across the walls. He leaned on a wall, his breathing ragged.
“Kill me!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Because if you don’t—I’ll come after you. After your daughters. I swear it!”
Lucifer’s voice turned ice cold.
“I won’t kill a brother. I have never killed a brother. But threaten my family again... and I’ll show you a death no soul can return from.”
He moved fast—grabbed the second baby, now softly stirring.
Then, with the butt of his gun, he smashed the bedroom window.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Footsteps thundered below.
But Lucifer didn’t look back.
He vanished into the night—one twin in each parent's arms, fate already splitting them in two.
Behind him, Deamon’s screams echoed through the bloodstained room.
“Go after him! I want him dead—or alive!”
