Veil of Blood and Vows

Nikolai’s POV Being born as the only son of a Pakhan meant my future was never mine. I was bred to rule, trained to lead, and expected to take my father’s place either when he stepped down …. or when death finally pried the crown from his hands. As I sat in the conference room, the stench of cigars filled the air, and the tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife, I could tell this meeting had something related to my end goal. “Its high time you get married, as you know, im getting old and I need to enjoy my last days on earth without the worries of the mafia on my neck and the only way for you to become Pakhan is to have a wife by your side.” Dimitri Volkov said like he was discussing the weather. “To who?” I asked with a passive look on my face, the 4 old hags watching me couldn’t see any form of weakness. “Sera Moretti… her family has a good reputation and with the current infiltrations from the Albanians, we need to form allies… the Italians are the best fit” He said. “When?” I asked, keeping the number of words I say to a minimum, one of the many traits I’m known for. “In 3 months’ time” he replied. “We have a meeting with the family next week to discuss further arrangements” he adds. “Anything else?” I ask. He turns to the others in the room as a sign for them to add whatever they want. Once I get into power, I’m taking these idiots out of these sits they’re so comfortable in. With a glance at each of them, they shake their heads. “Meeting dismissed” my father said. Without sparing anyone another glance, I leave the room. I wasn’t actually surprised to hear this and im glad my reign as pakhan is fast approaching. The sooner I get this marriage over with, the sooner I become Pakhan and the sooner I stop living in fear of my secret coming to light. “Breakfast?” Agnes, my cook asked. I replied with a nod. She dished out toast, some eggs and bacon with a cup of black coffee, just the way I like it. I ate and scrolled through some emails and the news on my phone. I thought about checking what Sera Moretti looked like but shook the thought out of my head. It didn’t matter what she looked like or her age. The alliance was all that mattered. “Boss” my right-hand man, Ivan, said, cutting my train of thought. I glanced up from my phone and he knew it was his sign to continue “ We had a shootout in one of the warehouses” he said “how many deaths?” I asked “20” he replied with a bow of his head. “How much goods did we lose?” I asked “10kg” he replied. I heaved a sigh and finished my coffee. ‘Albanians?” I asked “Yes sir” “Get the car” I said, standing up, leaving my food untouched. Getting outside, the car was by the door, Milo, my bodyguard, opened the door to the car. “To where boss?” my driver, Boris, asked. “The warehouse” I replied and the car sped out of the compound. After about 20 minutes’ drive, the car stopped in front of the warehouse and as I stepped out of the car, the smell of smoke and blood engulfed me. A normal person would have felt like throwing up from the stench of blood,the sight of organs on the floor, brains spattered on the wall and lifeless bodies drenched in blood and holes, however, this was normal for the likes of us. “Call the cleaners” I said. I didn’t bother stepping into the building, not wanting to stain my thousand-dollar suit and shoes. Heaving a sigh, I walked back to the car, giving my back to the souls of the 20 people that died in this place. “Where to boss?” “Ardian’s warehouse” I replied. Revenge isn’t justice, it’s a slow, deliberate art and I plan to paint every inch of his world in blood. One of the warehouses of the Albanians and the one closest to us was an hour drive and though we didn’t have any plan, we knew we were going there to exact revenge. On getting to the location, the 3 cars pulled to a stop and we all stepped out. ‘Left wing” I barked at Ivan. His nod was sharp, no hesitation. Four men melted into the shadows. “Right flank takes the other side” I said, pointing towards the rusted doors. I led the front. The warehouse was deadly quiet. Too quiet. Inside, the first guard didn’t have time to scream. One shot from Ivan’s silenced pistol silenced him. Another, then another. No mercy. No warning. On the right, the other team made short work of two Albanians who didn’t expect to die today. The front was where I needed to be. I stepped inside, senses alert, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. A guard tried to raise his gun. I put him down with a single round before he could pull the trigger. Another tried to fight back. He didn’t last long. Still, no Ardian. No sign of him anywhere. I pushed deeper, past overturned crates and shattered glass, toward the office at the back. The door was closed, but unlocked. Inside, the room was empty. No boss. No bodyguard. No fight, only a single piece of paper taped to the whiteboard. I stepped forward and pulled it down “Too slow 6paT. Keep chasing shadows and keep an eye on your men…...the ones still breathing obviously. -A.” My jaw tightened until it ached. The bastard had the nerve to mock me. Ivan’s voice broke my train of thoughts. “He’s not here. Is he?” “No” I said quietly. I folded the note carefully, as if folding away my fury. “Burn it down” I said, voice low but steady. “Leave nothing” I added. “No crates, no men, no message.” The flames began to lick at the walls, smoke curling up like the ghost of my rage. This was no longer about drugs or territory. It was about blood and Ardian had signed his death warrant.