What the hell just happened?
A few moments ago, the whole club was alive—people dancing, laughing, enjoying the music that pulsed through the air.
The energy was infectious, the atmosphere electric.
And then, in the blink of an eye, everything went to chaos.
Gunshots echoed through the walls, sending people running for their lives, leaving behind only the chosen few who seemed entirely unfazed by the madness.
Some time ago, I was lost in a trance, mesmerized by Alyona.
The way she walked towards me, her confidence, the way she extended her hand, silently asking me to dance—it was spellbinding.
I wasn't the type to be swayed easily, but there was something about her that made it impossible to refuse.
When she took my hands and placed them on her waist, when she snaked her arms around my neck and pulled me closer, my heart hammered against my chest.
This was all new to me.
No girl had ever been this close.
To be more precise, I had never been this close to any girl apart from the women in my family.
But with Alyona, everything felt different.
The way she danced, the way she moved her body with such sensuality and grace, showing off her curves with an effortless confidence, it sent a shiver down my spine.
Then there were her eyes—sharp, playful, and dangerously captivating.
The way she smiled, the way she carried herself with fierce determination, it was unlike anything I had ever known.
I was drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain.
And now... seeing her standing with a gun in her hand, fearless and steady, is both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
I should be scared of her, and maybe I am, but I also feel something else.
A strange sense of pride?
The way she stands her ground, unflinching and fierce, is something I've never seen in any girl before.
She is something else entirely—lethal, breathtaking, and utterly irresistible.
My heart skips a beat.
Who is she really?
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I stood in front of Nikhil's room, waiting.
Five minutes had passed, yet he was still inside.
I glanced at my watch again, but time seemed to have frozen.
Impatiently, I rang the doorbell once more.
Finally, the man of the moment emerged, dressed in a sharp black business suit, looking... I took a pause.
My subconscious whispered handsome.
I quickly shrugged off the thought.
He gave me a smile—one of those effortless, charming ones.
I responded with a frown.
I wasn't here to admire him.
I was here because this man had forgotten the most important file for our meeting.
Seriously?
He knew how crucial this meeting was, yet he managed to forget the very thing we needed most?
When he admitted to leaving the file behind, I literally wanted to smack his head.
But then—he gave me those puppy-dog eyes.
And for some ridiculous reason, I melted.
Ugh, Raghavi, get a grip!
Shaking off my moment of weakness, I immediately called Raghav, explaining the situation and what needed to be done.
After an hour, he sent me pictures of the documents.
I sighed in relief, thanking him for saving us from disaster.
With the problem somewhat handled, Nikhil and I headed to the Randhawa branch headquarters, where Mr. Senior Randhawa—aka Nikhil's father, Mr. Ranjit Randhawa—was waiting.
As one of the main investors in our project, he held all the power.
Impressing him was crucial.
Before we left, Nikhil had warned me that his father wouldn't give any leniency, even though Nikhil was his own son.
If we wanted his investment, we needed to prove why this collaboration was worth it.
No shortcuts.
No excuses.
I took a deep breath.
It was time to present our case—and hope we could convince Mr. Randhawa that our project was worth every penny.
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I was just looking at her—Miss Shergill.
She is the epitome of confidence.
Not that I ever doubted her capabilities, but today, I saw it with my own eyes.
This woman is... I don't even have the right words to describe her.
She's incredible.
I shifted my gaze toward my father, who had a rare smile on his face.
The other board members were in awe, all because of one person—Miss Shergill.
Or rather, Raghavi.
Right now, she's delivering the presentation, and man, I have to say—she could own the entire world with the way she speaks.
The authority in her voice, the way she presents her ideas—it's almost hypnotic.
I never really had much interaction with her before.
I knew her elder brother well, and honestly, I always looked forward to meeting Maithili.
But these past few days, it's been Raghavi who's been a constant in my life.
If I compare both sisters, Raghavi is bold—a woman who could probably slit a throat if you dared to mess with her.
And Maithili?
She's innocent, timid.
Not that it's a weakness—not at all.
But ever since I started knowing Raghavi Shergill, I think... I'm becoming her fan.
I don't know what it is, but she makes me crave something forbidden, something adventurous.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of applause.
I blinked, realizing the presentation had ended.
The room echoed with appreciation, and at the center of it all stood Raghavi, a victorious smile on her face.
And God, that smile.
She graciously credited our success to teamwork, saying that without my efforts, we wouldn't have achieved this.
Okay, maybe it wasn't a compliment, just a professional acknowledgment—but somehow, it meant a lot to me.
My father turned to me, patting my shoulder. "Good job, son."
I smiled at him.
And with the approval of all the board members and my father, our collaboration was officially sealed.
Niyara and Noor—together, we would launch the wedding collection.
I was still processing everything when Raghavi suddenly walked up to me.
I extended my hand for a handshake, but she completely caught me off guard—wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug.
Damn.
"Congratulations," she said, her voice full of excitement.
I—I don't know what this feeling is.
The moment she hugged me, something shifted inside me.
I couldn't pinpoint it, but it sent a strange, fluttering sensation through me.
God, what the hell am I even thinking?
She pulled away, her eyes sparkling with triumph. "We did it."
I nodded, clearing my throat. "Actually, you did most of it."
She chuckled. "Now you're just being modest, Mr. Randhawa."
I smirked. "Well, being modest is my forte, Miss Shergill."
Before she could reply, my father approached us. "You both did a great job. Tonight, we're having a party to celebrate this new beginning."
Raghavi and I exchanged smiles and nodded.
Well, looks like the party is on...
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The atmosphere inside the club shifted in an instant.
Conversations hushed, laughter died down, and a thick wave of unease spread across the room.
The air grew heavy, almost suffocating.
And then he walked in.
Czar Sidorov.
His presence alone was enough to send a chilling reminder of death through the spines of those who dared to exist in his world.
He moved with a deadly grace, his aura exuding power, dominance, and something far more dangerous—absolute control.
Mikhail and Alyona exchanged smirks.
They were used to this.
They had seen this side of him countless times.
But Jimmy?
Jimmy felt an icy dread coil around his heart.
His instincts screamed at him—this was not just a man.
This was an executioner who decided the fate of those who crossed his path.
Czar took his seat on the plush leather couch like a king taking his throne.
No rush, no urgency—just pure command.
He leaned back lazily, exuding an unsettling calm, and then, in a voice that sent shivers down spines, he ordered a whiskey.
Kush raised an eyebrow.
Seriously?
There was an emergency at hand, and this man was sitting here, ordering whiskey like it was a goddamn casual night out?
The waiter arrived, hands trembling so violently that the glass nearly slipped from his grasp.
He dared not meet Czar's eyes, keeping his gaze downcast as he set the drink on the table.
Czar smirked.
He loved this.
The fear.
The way people cowered in his presence.
He wrapped his fingers around the glass, dismissing the waiter without a second glance.
Meanwhile, Jimmy and his men sat frozen, their fear thickening with every agonizing second.
The tension in the room was almost tangible.
Czar lifted the whiskey to his lips, took a sip, and then... his expression turned to one of pure displeasure.
He clicked his tongue, swirling the drink in his glass before leveling a slow, unimpressed gaze at Mikhail.
"Mike," he drawled, his tone laced with mock disappointment, "since when did you start serving such pathetic whiskey at your club?"
Mikhail's eyes widened.
"Seriously?"
His club was world-famous for its top-shelf alcohol, not just in Russia but across the globe.
And his brother was calling his best-selling whiskey pathetic?
"Bro," Mikhail huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, "this whiskey is the best-selling drink in this club! You're embarrassing your little brother in front of your enemy!"
Czar merely chuckled, downing the rest of the whiskey in one go before setting the glass down with an eerie finality.
Then, in a voice so casual it sent deeper chills through the room, he said,
"Little one, rivalry is done with equals... not with filthy gutter worms."
And then he turned his gaze to Jimmy.
Jimmy stiffened.
His pulse skyrocketed.
His throat went dry.
Because at that moment, he knew.
His end was near.
Czar rose from the couch with an air of unhurried menace, straightened his suit, and slipped one hand into his pants pocket.
Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he made his way toward Jimmy.
Kush held his breath, his eyes wide.
He had never seen something like this before.
The power, the aura, the suffocating fear radiating off the man—it was terrifying.
For the first time, Kush felt true fear.
Alyona, meanwhile, smirked, watching Jimmy—who had been barking like a rabid dog just moments ago—turn into nothing more than a wet, shivering mess.
She tilted her head and sneered. "What happened, Jimmy? Did your pants get wet already?"
Laughter erupted from the Sidorov men, the sound echoing through the club like a cruel symphony of amusement.
And in that moment, Jimmy knew.
There was no escaping the devil tonight.
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Jimmy collapsed onto his knees, his trembling hands pressed against the cold floor.
His pride, his arrogance—everything had crumbled in the presence of Czar Sidorov.
His body shook uncontrollably as his forehead touched the ground.
"Пощады, босс, пощады!" he pleaded, his voice hoarse with terror.
("Mercy, boss, mercy!")
Alyona and Mikhail smirked, exchanging an amused glance.
As expected.
They had known this would happen.
They had seen it happen before.
Czar stood there, towering over Jimmy with an emotionless face, his cold, steel-blue eyes void of mercy.
His mere presence had already crushed Jimmy's spirit, and seeing their leader broken, Jimmy's men followed suit, kneeling down with their heads lowered.
They knew what Czar Sidorov was—the Grim Reaper in a tailored suit.
A dark chuckle escaped Czar's lips.
He tilted his head slightly, eyeing Jimmy with disdain.
"I knew this would happen," he mused, his voice rich with amusement. "But I didn't think it would happen this fast. Come on, Jimmy, be a man—at least put up a fight." He sighed, shaking his head. "Defeating weak and broken men isn't fun for me."
Jimmy lifted his tear-streaked face, shaking his head frantically. "Пощады, босс, пощады!"
("Mercy, boss, mercy!")
Czar's laugh echoed through the club, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement—it was dark, deadly, and dripping with menace.
"Mercy?" he mocked, crouching down slightly to look Jimmy in the eyes. "On you?"
His voice was quieter now, but the weight of his words pressed down like a guillotine.
"If you had attacked me head-on, I might have forgiven you. Might have even praised your bravery." His lips curled into a wicked smirk before it vanished instantly. "But you, you fucking bastard, dared to betray me behind my back. You had the audacity to leak my consignment's information to Martinez?" His voice turned into a venomous growl. "There's no mercy—only death awaits you."
With a flick of his wrist, Czar gestured to his men.
And then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The deafening sound of gunshots echoed through the club as Jimmy's men fell one by one.
Blood splattered across the velvet seats, staining the expensive wooden floor.
Their lifeless bodies collapsed into a heap, their existence erased in mere seconds.
Kush sucked in a sharp breath, his heart pounding wildly.
He had not seen something like this in his life, and suddenly this was on a whole different level.
Alyona, sensing his unease, took a step forward and—without a word—stood in front of him, shielding him like an unmovable force.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she reached back and grasped his hand.
Kush stiffened.
What the hell?
His gaze dropped to their joined hands, his mind scrambling to process the gesture.
Alyona Sidorov, the ruthless, untouchable princess of the underworld, was protecting him?
Mikhail, who had been watching, raised an eyebrow.
Something twisted in his chest, something hefelt weird.
His shielding someone?
Holding someone's hand?
She had never done that for anyone.
And now, she was doing it for Kush?
Interesting.
Mikhail smirked.
Something's cooking, and it's dangerously delicious.
Meanwhile, Jimmy sat paralyzed in his own puddle of fear.
His eyes darted from the lifeless bodies of his men to the blood pooling around him.
He had wanted death earlier, but now, witnessing this brutality, he realized—
Death was the easy way out.
Just then, Jimmy's phone rang.
The sharp, shrill sound cut through the suffocating silence.
He flinched, his hands refusing to move.
Czar let out an impatient sigh. "Pick up the phone, asshole."
With shivering fingers, Jimmy obeyed.
The moment he answered, an enraged voice boomed from other side.
Czar's lips curled into a slow, devilish smirk.
"Включи на громкую связь."
("Put it on speaker.")
Jimmy shakily pressed the speaker button, and the furious voice of Salvador Martinez roared through the room.
"You fucking bastard, how dare you, Sidorov? How dare you?! You destroyed my warehouses! Don't forget, there was a peace treaty—but now, you've declared war."
"Don't forget the peace treaty, Sidorov!"
Czar chuckled darkly. "Hola, Martinez. I'm glad you liked my gift."
(Hola means 'Hello' in spanish)
The other end of the line went eerily silent.
Czar leaned back against the couch, exuding a terrifying nonchalance. "About the peace treaty... you were the one who broke it first. I'm just taking it to the end."
Martinez's breath hitched.
He knew Czar was right.
He had been the one to send Jimmy as a spy.
But now... now, it was a war between the Russian and Spanish mafia.
The line went dead.
Czar let out a disappointed sigh, pocketing Jimmy's phone.
Then, he tilted his head slightly and smirked down at the trembling man.
"Well, your boss got a little too excited—he's completely rattled. Now, it's your turn." His voice dropped into something sinister. "So tell me, Jimmy... how would you like to die?"
Jimmy sobbed, his head lowered.
He was begging—pleading—for mercy, but deep down, he knew... he would never get it.
Mikhail, watching the pathetic display, scoffed. "Do one thing, bro—chop him into tiny pieces and feed him to our dogs."
Alyona smirked. "Mike, you know our dogs don't eat filthy blood, right? And this Jimmy—he's nothing but degraded meat for our top-notch dogs."
Mikhail laughed. "True. Even our dogs have standards."
Kush swallowed hard and muttered under his breath, "Yeh log body ke tukde karne ki baat toh aise kar rahe hai jaise koi apple cut karna ho... kaha phas gaya main?"
("These people are talking about chopping up a body like it's just cutting an apple... Where have I gotten myself into?")
Alyona, catching his murmured words, raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Kush shook his head rapidly. "Nothing," he lied, quickly averting his gaze.
Czar sighed, rolling his wrist as if bored. "See, Jimmy, my siblings have brilliant ideas to kill you." He pulled out his dagger, twirling it between his fingers. "But I think you deserve a less painful death. After all, you worked for me for so long..." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "Consider your death a reward for your services."
Before Jimmy could process his words, Czar's dagger sliced through his throat in one swift, effortless motion.
A choked gasp left Jimmy's lips.
His eyes widened in horror, but before his mind could register the pain—
Slash.
His soul left his body before he even hit the floor.
Czar wiped the blade clean on Jimmy's shirt and tucked it away, his expression unreadable.
Then, he turned to Mikhail and Alyona.
"Get rid of the mess."
And just like that, Czar Sidorov walked away—leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake.
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