Page 4 of Daddy Brigadier

We hurry down the maintenance elevator and gently lay her in the back of the car, with Robyn cradling her in her arms. She shouts, “We need to get her to the hospital!”

“We can’t!” I yell back.

“Lexi! She’s going to die!”

I steal a glance at Ruby, who looks almost lifeless, all the color completely drained from her face.

“Okay!” I concede, my hands trembling as I grip the steering wheel, weaving in and out of traffic, accelerating.

We rush to the nearest emergency room, pulling into the drop-off zone. I cover my head with my hoodie and open the door, carefully lifting Ruby from the car and leaning her against the wall beside the entrance. I jump back into the car and drive off quickly before anyone sees us.

A wave of despair crashes over me as I leave my friend behind, my eyes glued to the rearview mirror, where I see hospital staff springing into action to help my friend who’s barely alive. It’s a heart-wrenching moment, but I don’t know what else to do.

What happened tonight? I swipe away my useless tears, haunted by the sight of my friend’s lifeless body on the bathroom floor.

The man’s words play in my mind. “I know who you are.” The weight of my past feels heavy.

“What now?” Robyn asks, her voice trembling as her lips quiver. Her eyes are filled with tears, glistening as they threaten to spill over.

“We burn this motherfucking city down and make those assholes pay for what they did tonight!”

“How will we find them?” she asks, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to shield away the dread of the nightmares that lie ahead.

I know exactly where to start. The image of his gold ring is etched in my mind—it belongs to the world’s largest Bratva, based right here in New York City, under the control of Andrei Savin and his family. “We’re going to track down the Coalition.”

CHAPTER ONE

VALENTIN VOLKOV

The rippling lines etched around my eyes tell a story of a life spent in the shadow of the Bratva. My body, once a well-crafted art piece, has begun to show the marks of time, adorned by the ink that sprawls across my shoulder and chest. In just two weeks, I’ll be hitting the big 5-0!

While my mind still feels like I’m in my thirties, my body is definitely reminding me of its advancing age. Yet, my cock remains hard and alive, as if I’m still just twenty-one.

My eyes shift down to the woman in front of me, bent over the sink.

Her large breasts spill out from her buttoned, collared shirt, bouncing. With her black skirt hiked up, I thrust my cock into her.

Just then, my phone vibrates, and I pull it from my pocket to see a message from the Pakhan.‘Where the fuck are you?’

I pocket my phone again and thrust my cock into her with more force. The mirror strikes the wall, and the intern lets out a sharp, pained gasp.

“Did that hurt?” I smirk at her reflection, seeing the pain in her eyes.

“A little,” she squeaks.

“Good!” I growl, tugging at her hair and wrapping my hand around her neck, drawing her head back to me as her eyes lock onto mine in the mirror.

I’m not focused on the woman in front of me. I’m lost in thought, distracted and distant, as my mind drifts to all the women I’ve fucked lately. None of them individually has interested me, but thinking of them all at once helps trigger an orgasm.

“Stay still,” I groan, slamming harder into her from behind.

Pressing down on the intern’s back, I pull out roughly, leaving her bent over. With my hand around my cock, I jerk myself off until my cum splatters across her ass.

I quickly zip my pants and fasten my belt. “Thanks.” No point in hanging around, making small talk. Instead, I exit the bathroom, wiping my hands on a towel and throwing it on the floor, now catching a glimpse of the intern crawling out through the other door.

Entering the conference room, it’s apparent that my lawyer has been waiting quietly. He finally lifts his gaze from his notepad, where he has been diligently writing, ensuring that I recognize his discretion. “Feel better?”

“I sure do.”