Chapter 3
A heavy knock echoed from the enormous door.
“Come in.”
Before Ivan had finished speaking, the door swung open. Three people walked in at the same time.
“…Ivan, do you really have to stay dressed like that?”
Alexei asked with a stiff expression as he looked at Ivan. Then, Mikhail, standing next to him, burst out laughing.
“He’s confident in his body, that’s why. Women love that kind of body, you know? Right, Natasha?”
Natasha, who stood beside him, scowled.
“Shut up, Mikhail.”
“Why? Just be honest. You never talk about your preferences. Should I start by sharing mine?”
“I couldn’t care less about your preferences. I’m sure other women feel the same. You’re so full of yourself.”
Between the harsh words exchanged between Mikhail and Natasha, Alexei stood quietly and then motioned with his chin. At his gesture, Mikhail and Natasha both turned their gaze to the floor, avoiding Ivan’s stare.
Eyes full of murderous intent. Ivan, looking at them with those eyes, was at the top of the hierarchy.
“Want me to strip you both and throw you out?”
Even though they were comrades, there were clear lines. Lines that were unmistakably drawn.
“Do you want that?”
At his question, all three shook their heads in unison. Ivan swiftly turned and grabbed his robe.
Below Ivan were the lines that separated them. They were of different ages, but each followed Ivan for different reasons.
“Calm down and wear your robe, Ivan.”
Alexei, Ivan’s right-hand man, was taciturn and gruff, but he was so loyal to Ivan that he would give his life for him. He would do anything Ivan wanted, even earning the nickname “Ivan’s loyal dog,” but Alexei didn’t care about such things.
“I told you, I like our boss.”
Mikhail, who stood next to Alexei, was a handsome man with a small heart tattoo under his eye. His weapon of choice was the CZ Scorpion EVO 3. He enjoyed shooting submachine guns with a wild grin on his face, which earned him the nickname “Ivan’s crazy stallion.”
In reality, Mikhail hated that nickname. The reason being, he wasn’t a stallion, but a wolf.
Mikhail winked, and Natasha clicked her tongue.
“Psychotic bastard.”
Natasha, without a doubt, oozed s*x appeal. With a stunning hourglass figure and flowing blonde hair, she was Ivan’s secretary, but she did similar work to Alexei and Mikhail.
The fact that these three, with completely different personalities, were blindly loyal wasn’t because of Oleg or Bratva. It was because of Ivan, who was right in front of them.
Ivan, now in his robe, sat on the sofa. The three of them then headed to the opposite sofa to face him.
“So, did you meet Denis Malikov’s daughter?”
Natasha asked, crossing her arms, and Ivan nodded slightly.
“Yeah.”
“How was she?”
How was she?
Ivan leaned back casually and let out a dry laugh.
“Well, I just got out of the shower. My whole body’s burning with heat.”
At those words, all three of them gasped. So, if they were to deduce Ivan’s actions and words:
“You’re burning up… because of her? I mean, is she that pretty? Well, her father, the Chechen mafia boss, dotes on her.”
Mikhail snorted and continued speaking.
“Isn’t she adopted? The reason he dotes on her is because she’s his daughter, not a mistress, right? Daughter in front, lover behind?”
“If it’s Denis Malikov, there’s a chance that’s the case,” Natasha said, nodding as she glanced at Ivan.
“Anyway, don’t get too involved,” she warned.
Ivan let out a chuckle, as if in disbelief.
Just because he was feeling a little heat.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”
“That’s what happens when you get aroused. To you, whether it’s a woman or a man, doesn’t it all just look like a piece of meat?”
Natasha sighed.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You can only disguise yourself as a priest for a month. After that, there’s too much risk.”
A month.
That would be enough.
Ivan flicked his thumb and middle finger, signaling for a drink. Alexei immediately got up and, seemingly familiar with the routine, went to the display cabinet to fetch the whiskey, while Natasha prepared the glasses.
When the whiskey was poured into the glasses, Ivan gently swirled his, bringing it to his lips.
He gulped, and each time he swallowed, his Adam’s apple slowly moved up and down. After finishing the drink, he set the empty glass down and uttered his final words.
“Play with it until you’re done, and then clean it up.”
The smile that crept onto his face was as cold as the upward curve of his lips.
“It’s my specialty.”
He wasn’t interested in taking revenge on those who had fallen for Anya’s beauty tricks, but it did pique his interest.
The thought of her being caught in her own beauty trap.
She had used her charm to extract information and then brutally disposed of those men, yet she seemed weak when it came to her profession as a priest.
She looked almost devout, especially when she lowered her gun and even apologized.
If that was the case, he thought he could use that devoutness. Slowly, he would brainwash her, making her spread her legs before him.
He wanted to see the moment when pleasure flickered in her vacant eyes. And when that pleasure reached its peak, he would strangle her. He’d do it until her white eyes turned bloodshot.
Then, in her final moments, he would kiss her so deeply that her dimples would show, bidding her farewell.
A perfect ending. One fitting for her final moment.
—
At the moment Anya’s car was about to enter Denis’s mansion, the man guarding the mansion’s entrance with a gun stopped the car.
Dressed in military pants and a black mask that only revealed his eyes, he looked exactly like a Chechen mafia member.
When the driver stopped the car, the man approached. He briefly glanced at the driver’s seat but then turned toward the back, his eyes widening when he saw Valery and Anya inside the car.
There was no need to explain who they were. Valery and Anya were well-known within the Chechen mafia.
“Is he new?”
Anya muttered to herself. Valery, who had been glaring at the man, shifted his gaze.
“It seems so.”
Valery added, with a hint of caution in his voice, that he should be careful, but Anya didn’t pay attention. From the moment they passed through the gates of the mansion, she had been tense.
What kind of words would Denis, who was waiting for her inside the mansion, say to her today?
What Denis said to her was always the same. He would ask her to lure someone, extract information, and take care of them. It wasn’t difficult. It was what she had always done.
However, the reason Anya was so tense wasn’t just because of that.
As soon as the car passed through the gates and stopped in front of the mansion’s door, Anya took a small breath and then stepped out of the car, heading straight inside.
Even though she had lived in this mansion just a few years ago, she had never really gotten used to it. The mansion itself.
She walked past the people who greeted her and headed straight for the drawing room.
The room was thick with cigar smoke, hazy and pungent. As soon as Anya entered, a voice cut through the acrid scent.
“Anya.”
A voice that sounded like a hungry snake slithering through the air. Ash dropped from the cigar held in a hand adorned with thick rings.
“My daughter, come here.”
“My daughter.” That sickening and disgusting phrase. And despite the revulsion, as if unable to defy the words, Anya moved.
The reason she was so tense was clear.
No matter whether she wanted it or not, she had no choice but to obey Denis’s commands.
