Chapter 1 - The entrance
Chapter Opening
Karla Whitmore is a 19-year-old girl with black hair, a slim build, and light brown eyes, the colour of coffee mixed with milk. Her skin is naturally pale, framed by long black lashes, full lips, and a small nose. Her style is casual and oversized, leaning towards streetwear and baggy clothes.
She lives in Hampstead, UK, with her father, Daniel Whitmore. If you know the area, you can probably guess that she isn't exactly short on money. She lives in a huge multi-storey mansion complete with servants, housekeepers, bodyguards, and everything else money can buy.
But the truth is, the money paying for all of it doesn't come from nowhere.
Daniel's fortune comes from money laundering, tax evasion, corruption, human trafficking, and scams. And her father? The man responsible for bringing all that money in? Well, a good part of London knows his name. He's done almost everything listed above. In short, he's a mafia boss.
Daniel Whitmore may be a cruel, morally bankrupt man with absolutely no remorse. He can kill anyone who gets in his way without even blinking. But at the same time, he's the man who raised Karla with patience, love, care, and protection.
As for Karla's mother? Karla never knew her. She left shortly after finding out what Daniel did for a living, when Karla was barely born. But Karla never really missed her. Daniel gave her everything she needed and taught her to accept the future he'd planned for her, because, obviously, he wanted her to follow in his footsteps.
So, from the age of six, he taught her how to handle a gun, move without making a sound, identify different substances, climb buildings, kill someone in cold blood, and much more.
None of it changed her personality, though. To Karla, they were simply professional skills—mostly things she could use to protect herself.
---
Karla walked down the stairs of the mansion, heading towards the kitchen to grab a snack, when she noticed that the door to her father's office was slightly open.
She glanced inside and saw him sitting behind his desk, several documents in his hands, rubbing his temple with a stressed expression.
The gesture immediately caught her attention.
She knocked twice with her fingers before pushing the door open.
-Hey, Dad. How are things going?
Her father, Daniel Whitmore, was a forty-year-old man with broad shoulders and a heavily muscular build. His dark brown hair was slicked back, and his eyes were a pale green. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looked at Karla with a tired, stressed expression.
-Hey, Karla. Same problem with the Volkovs…
The Volkovs were a Russian mafia family, just as powerful and terrifying as the Whitmores. Viktor Volkov, the head of the family, had been locked in a bitter feud with the Whitmores for years.
They were sworn enemies, constantly fighting to expand their territory.
Karla looked at her father with concern.
-What have they done this time?
Daniel lifted his head from the papers and looked at Karla, irritated—not at her, but at the situation.
-I sent a few men to watch their operation for a couple of days. They never came back. I lost some very capable people…
Karla could see the stress written all over Daniel's face. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a few moments.
Then, suddenly, an idea came to her.
-What if… what if I went?
She paused.
-I could get into Volkov's house and take him out myself.
Daniel shot up from his chair and slammed his fist onto the desk, his face filled with fury.
-Absolutely not! Didn't you hear what I just said?! I lost important men! Men with years of experience! You have no business going there. You'd be torn apart in seconds!
Karla flinched at her father's sudden change in tone.
Daniel noticed.
He took a few slow breaths, forcing himself to calm down. His voice softened as he walked over to her.
When he reached her, he placed a hand gently on her head.
-I appreciate that you want to help me, but it's too dangerous.
He paused.
(hort version: no. And no means no)
Karla nodded, accepting the situation.
-Okay, okay… I get it. Maybe another mission.
Daniel nodded, relaxing now that she'd accepted his decision. He removed his hand and returned to his desk, sitting back down and continuing with his paperwork.
Karla quietly closed the office door from the outside and quickly ran upstairs to her room.
She shut the door behind her.
Opening her wardrobe, she changed into a fitted outfit designed for stealth and covert operations: a tight black long-sleeved top, flexible black leggings, and long leather boots.
She opened a small drawer, grabbed a dagger, and slipped it inside her right boot.
She glanced at the clock.
1:00 a.m.
She knew her father would stay in his office until three in the morning, as usual.
She didn't have time to waste.
Karla climbed out of her bedroom window and moved as quietly as possible across the mansion's roof, carefully keeping her balance until she reached the back of the house.
She took a running start and jumped from the roof, clearing the fence surrounding the property before landing on the pavement behind the mansion with a roll.
She waited for a few seconds.
Nothing.
No voices. No shouting. No footsteps from the guards.
Nobody had seen her.
She quickly took off, running through the quieter side streets towards the Volkov residence.
---
An hour later, she reached the back of Viktor Volkov's house.
The mansion was enormous, with multiple floors.
Karla climbed the tall iron fence and searched for a blind spot. Eventually, she found one—a section where the security cameras couldn't reach.
Right beside a slightly open upstairs window.
She jumped from the fence and caught the window frame with both hands. She pushed it open, pulled herself up, and rolled into the house.
She immediately got to her feet and scanned the room.
A long hallway stretched ahead of her, its walls painted white and lined with several grey doors on either side. The entire place had a strangely minimalist feel.
Almost instinctively, she headed towards the second door on the left.
Somehow, she had a feeling that was Volkov's room.
She stopped in front of the door and reached towards her boot for the dagger.
Then she felt something cold and metallic pressed against the side of her head.
Karla froze.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Standing behind her was a tall boy, around 6'3", maybe twenty-one years old.
He wore cargo trousers and a simple, fitted white T-shirt that showed off his defined abs, broad shoulders, muscular chest, and large biceps.
His dark hair was slightly messy, falling over his forehead in a fluffy fringe.
His eyes were ice-blue.
His jaw was tense, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his expression.
He looked at Karla cautiously, but there was something almost amused about the fact that she'd made it all the way here alone.
No backup.
No serious weapons.
So naive…
Then he spoke, his voice deep and calm.
-Another pawn who thinks they can get to my father?
Karla's eyes widened.
She whispered:
-Your father…?
This was Maxim Volkov.
Viktor Volkov's son.
The son Viktor had never mentioned.
