Page 10 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

I lean back, letting his words settle like lead in my chest. He calls it a gift. But what he’s handed me is a battlefield—with my name on the bullets.

“Fine,” I grit out. “But I want the ledgers. All of them. I’m not walking blind into your mess.”

Igor nods, satisfied. “Then welcome to your new war, brother.”

He paces slowly, letting the weight of the conversation breathe. “We’ve reinforced the tunnels. Upgraded security. Streamlined their use. No flesh trade, no bullshit—just movement. Quiet, clean, necessary.”

I study him. I’m not naive. I know exactly what kind of business the Sokolovs run. And I know how easily lines blur in the dark.

My FSB instincts scream at me to shut it all down. But the FSB sold me out. Tossed me to the wolves and watched me bleed. The only thing I have left is loyalty, and Igor—like it or not—is Bratva.

“How often?” I ask. Already thinking about containment. About minimizing exposure. About how far I’m willing to bend before I snap.

“Whatever number you’re comfortable with,” he says easily.

“Then I want to see the books. Top to bottom. I need to know what I’m stepping into.”

His steady gaze holds mine. “No problem. But I’ll warn you now—something’s off. I’ve already been through the numbers. There’s movement I can’t trace. Skimming. Shifting. Maybe worse.”

So that’s the real gift. A kingdom that’s already fractured.

I nod slowly. The game changes in real time.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, fingers curling into fists. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll find it. And I’ll gut it.”

“Good.” Igor sets down his glass. “Then my job here is done. Make yourself at home.”

He offers a final handshake. I take it—firm, silent, full of ghosts.

Then I’m alone.

I shut the door. Pour a glass.

The silence hits harder than expected.

I drink anyway.

The burn chases away the edge just enough to keep me still. Just enough to keep the beast quiet a little longer.

I’ve lost a year in hell.

I won’t lose another second.

With the ledger open, I begin.

This club isn’t a reward.

It’s a test.

And I’m going to pass it the only way I know how.

By surviving it.

By owning it.

By becoming worse than the men who came before me.

Because survival’s not enough anymore.

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