Chapter 1
ROSES AND GUN
Chapter 1
The atmosphere inside the grand living room was suffocating. It was not the air of wealth and elegance that usually filled the Lacortesa mansion, but the heavy, metallic scent of fear and impending doom.
Every piece of expensive furniture seemed to mock the situation. The crystal chandeliers cast light on the pale, terrified faces of Mr. and Mrs. Lacortesa, who were now kneeling on the cold, polished marble floor. They were trembling, their bodies shaking uncontrollably as they stared up at the men who held their lives in the palm of their hands.
At the center of the room, sitting casually on the expensive Italian leather sofa, was Aleksandr Binogradov.
He was the definition of power. Pure Russian blood, cold, and ruthless. His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed, but his eyes... his eyes were like ice, piercing through their souls. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, swirling the amber liquid slowly, looking at them as if they were nothing but insects waiting to be crushed.
Beside him, standing tall and rigid, was his brother in every way but blood.
Ryker Binogradov.
Half Russian, half Italian.
A walking disaster.
A monster in human flesh.
He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his massive chest. His black shirt was stretched tight over his muscles, revealing intricate, dark tattoos that crawled up his neck and peeked out from his sleeves. His jaw was clenched, and his face was set in a permanent scowl. He looked dangerous. He looked wild. And everyone in the room knew that he was the one who did the dirty work. He was the executioner.
"You have exhausted my patience," Aleksandr spoke finally, his voice deep, accented, and void of any emotion. "You borrowed money. You lost it all in your gambling and failed businesses. And now, you expect me to let you walk away?"
"Please, Aleksandr... please, Boss!" Mr. Lacortesa sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "We just need more time! We will find a way! We will pay you double! Triple!"
"Time?" Aleksandr chuckled darkly, a sound that held no humor. "Time is a luxury you do not have anymore. You either pay what you owe me with interest by the end of today... or I will kill you. And I will kill your wife. And I will burn this whole house down with you inside it."
The couple screamed, begging for mercy, clutching each other in pure terror. They knew the Binogradovs were not men who made empty threats. They were kings of the underworld. They owned the law. They owned life and death.
Ryker watched them with disgust. He was getting bored. He was ready to pull out his gun and end their miserable lives right there and then. His hand was already resting on the weapon hidden at his back, his finger itching to pull the trigger.
Disgusting leeches, he thought. They deserve to die.
But just as he was about to step forward and give the order...
His eyes accidentally drifted towards the large glass doors that opened up to the garden.
And then...
Everything stopped.
The noise faded into the background. The fear in the room disappeared. The anger in his chest vanished.
His gaze landed on a figure sitting peacefully under the old oak tree, far away from the chaos.
A woman.
She was wearing a long, white, flowy dress that covered her entirely, looking modest and holy. Her hair was soft, cascading down her shoulders like silk. She was holding a book close to her chest, reading with such focus, such serenity, as if the world around her was perfect and safe.
The golden hour sunlight surrounded her like a halo. She looked ethereal. She looked pure. She looked like an angel who had mistakenly landed in a den of wolves.
Ryker felt something snap inside him.
It was not just attraction.
It was primal.
It was hunger.
It was obsession.
His heart, which had been cold and hardened by years of violence and sin, started beating wildly against his ribs. He stared at her, drinking in every detail. Her soft features, her small hands, the way her lips moved slightly as she read.
She was everything he hated.
She was everything he wasn't.
She was light. She was goodness. She was peace.
And looking at her... all he could think about was how perfect she would look broken under him. How beautiful she would sound screaming his name. How much he wanted to ruin that innocence and taint it with his darkness.
She is mine, a dark voice whispered in his head. No one else can have her. She belongs to me.
Slowly, a wicked, dangerous smirk formed on his lips.
He walked away from the wall, his heavy boots making a loud thud, thud, thud sound against the floor, silencing the room immediately. He towered over the kneeling couple, looking down at them with eyes full of lust and authority.
He ignored Aleksandr’s questioning look. He ignored everything else but the image of the angel outside.
"You don't have money?" Ryker spoke, his voice raspy, low, and terrifying. "That is fine."
He pointed a finger towards the garden, towards the woman who had no idea she was being sold, who had no idea her life was about to be destroyed and reborn in the most painful way possible.
"GIVE ME YOUR DAUGHTER INSTEAD. I'LL TAKE HER, GIVE HER TO ME. AND I SWEAR TO YOU...YOUR DEBTS...WILL BE PAID IN FULL."
The parents gasped, shocked and terrified, but they didn't dare refuse. They would trade their own flesh and blood just to save their skins.
Ryker looked back at Winter one last time, his eyes darkening with possession.
You are mine now, little one, he thought darkly. Welcome to my world.
