Claimed

CHRISTIAN VICIOUS VOLKOV, 

Lying on my desk, bare, pure, too fucking good for my likes, trouble looked at me like I was dinner and all I wanted to do was offer myself on a platter for feasting. 

My eyes zone back to the piece of shit in front of 

1. me. 

But my mind is miles away, on the sunshine blonde–haired woman who asked me to fuck her 

raw last night and I declined. 

If I wanted to, I would have. 

Normal me didn’t decline a quick fuck but it was 

her. 

Full of trauma, tempting, my slave. Her. 

With a five feet height of smooth curves, pretty tits and a sassy mouth to back her attitude up, Alexia Green probably liked her sex vanilla. 

I’m not like Rhett. Taking what he doesn’t deserve. but I wouldn’t kneel and beg for a taste of her 

pussy. 

I’d fuck her. Hard, She’d hate me, much more. than she did now and the thought of her hate right now doesn’t do a thing to jab at my 

1/10 

Setting 

conscience, 

I need to keep her out and away. 

Yet…here I am, mind skipping away to her and not the task at hand. 

The sound of hushed voices drifts from the closet 

at the other far side of the room. 

I know they are hiding in there but delaying the 

inevitable makes this more fun. 

“I could do this all day, man, but unfortunately, keep this up and you won’t make it for the night“, Maximo adds another punch to the sack of a man kneeling in front of us. 

“Where’s Dante Keaton? Where’s the piece of shit hiding at? Gambling den downtown? Mayor’s house a couple blocks from here? Here? No, he wouldn’t be too stupid to hide here, not when he wants his family alive. Where’s Keaton, Malachi?” 

Missing two teeth up front, a banged–up eye, a slightly broken nose and a busted lip, Malachi, Dante Keaton’s second in command should be happy I’m not the one beating him up. 

Maximo likes to torture. Slowly, painfully, whatever fancies his non–existent heart. 

Me? I’m in it for the fast and quick. Beat him up to death and be done with it. Matter of fact, the gun poking my back burns hot. 

2/10 

1545 

Setting 

Malachi spits his blood somewhere on the fancy carpet, his eyes drawn to me, 

“Go fuck yourself, Volkov.” 

1 tip my nose at Maximo. NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

He grins before his knuckles meet with Malachi’s 

face. 

Tightening my cufflinks, standing from the fancy leather couch that inhabits Dante Keaton’s 

Victorian mansion or in this case his bedroom. 

I stroll over to that one closet that houses Dante’s mice. The mice hiding in the closet for an hour 

since we arrived. 

Malachi writhes on the floor like a worm. 

“Don’t! Don’t you dare! Your issue is with me, Volkov! Come at me you Sicilian psycho-.” 

“I would but where’s the fun in that?” 

I reach for the closet doors. 

They mechanically open to reveal what we knew all along once we caught Malachi guarding the grounds. 

A brunette, terrified, shaking with tears in her eyes glances back at me. Near her feet, two kids. hug her legs, my grin grows a little bit more suicidal. 

“What do we have here?” 

Dante Keaton’s family 

Shocked would be an understatement. 

Dante has always been a coward and when thing got tough, the first thing he hid was nim off to the edge of the world leaving his little family here with the monsters. 

“P please don’t hurt us“, Dante’s wife whimpers, “We’ll give you anything. We we have money” 

I crouch to the floor, my hand reaching out to the little girl who hugs her mother tighter at the sight 

“What’s your name?” 

She blinks. She looks up to her mommy, her mommy nods her head vigorously at her. 

Give the man anything he wants. Talk to the man, 

Save us. 

“Anissa.” 

“Anissa? Such a lovely name for a sweet little girl. I’ve got a daughter too. Her name’s Millie, I bet you’d get along pretty well. Matter of fact, I think she might like you, Anissa. When she isn’t crying 

that is.” 

“Crying?” Anissa asks. 

Malachi groans something behind me but Maximo shuts him up. 

Whether he knocked him out or gagged him, I have no idea. But it’s quiet. I like quiet. 

“She’s a cranky little thing when her dad’s not nearby. I’d give her ice cream or chocolate, kids like that right? But Millie’s not old enough to eat. 

“I get cranky too when daddy’s not home“, Anissa 

mutters. 

“Yeah? How about we call daddy then?” 

*本* 

“You are not going to get away with this!” 

“I already have, Keaton.” 

“You won’t hurt them. You are unhinged but you wouldn’t hurt my kids.” 

“You give me too much credit for a man you drugged and wanted to torture to death, Keaton.” 

“That was between us! You think I would have gone after your sister if you tried to kill me?” 

“It’s a good thing, she’s dead then.” 

“Don’t do this.” 

“You know where to find me, Dante. In the meantime, I’ll hold onto them. Call it insurance.” 

I hang up the phone. 

I should have done something worse to threaten the weasel but like I said, I had a baby in my home and a holier–than–thou woman who 

wouldn’t like it if I took a life when her whole existence was about patching things up and maintaining lives. 

“How would you like to move to a new house, Anissa?” 

“With Millie? Can I play with her now?” 

“No.” 

God, no. Millie and her mother aren’t going to be part of this world, not if I can help it. Not even when the woman in my house is siding with some Russian Bratva heir. 

X X 

Maximo took the Keaton family somewhere safe 

here in Chicago. 

Somewhere where Dante wouldn’t track them and they would go on with their normal lives. 

The cicadas chirp outside, the eeriness of the night has me discarding my coat after a long 

night. 

I’m only stopped by the humming coming from 

the kitchen. 

I don’t have to know it’s her though. 

You can hear and feel it in the air. 

Alexia Green in my kitchen again. 

Blonde hair running past her shoulders, silky, 

voluminous, unlike any blonde I’ve seen. 

Curves hidden by fabric, smooth toned legs staring back at me and I’ve seen those legs. 

They are even prettier up north. 

“Thanks for the little checkup. I thought it was something serious for a second“, the other male voice that comes from the male seated in one of the kitchen stools in my own damn kitchen has my nose flaring with suppressed rage. 

I didn’t walk away because I spotted Nico’s smug face in my kitchen. 

Otherwise, I would have pretended those legs aren’t a damn temptation. 

She smiles. That smile she gives everyone. 

“It was a cold, Nico and I’m glad you came to me while you could, otherwise you’d be running a fever right about now.” 

The kid hops from his stool, walking around the kitchen island to where Alexa is organizing Millie’s bottles of milk she must have pumped 

earlier in the day. 

How long has Nico been in my house today? 

He could have pneumonia for all I care and I would still want him out of here. 

“What would I do without you, Lex“, the fucker flirts, rage burns through my veins like I’ve been 

doused in a vat of gasoline. 

It doesn’t get any better when he places his hand on hers and visible fear leaps from her eyes. 

I’m already striding across the kitchen faster than the next words fly out of my mouth, 

“Keep your hands off her!” 

Nico raises his head, gazing at me with a light smirk, “Boss?” 

Her blue eyes gaze at me too with worry and fear lodged in them. 

“I said. Keep. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.” 

Nico’s face pales as looks at me with confusion. Instant realization that he’s made a mistake hits him because he steps away from the little Nurse. 

“Get out” 

He doesn’t ask anything. Doesn’t apologize. He’s crossed a line. He’s dug his grave. He’s getting punished for what he did today. 

“Thank you“, Alexia whispers as I strut towards her taking in whatever shirt she’s wearing. 

“I didn’t do it for you“, I lie through my teeth because I’m not one to settle for being the prince in shining armor she reads in her little fairytale 

books. 

“He’s harmless though. Nico, he just flirts but he’s 

harmless.” 

“He wouldn’t flirt if you didn’t walk around naked giving him ideas that you are an easy target” 

1 sound like a prick. 

And I have no clue why but everything is pushing me towards the edge as I stare at that shirt. 

Her words get stuck in her throat. 

Irritation creeps on her face before she says, “I’m not naked! I was hungry and I needed to pump milk for Millie, I didn’t know anyone would be 

here at this time of night.” 

“Did he see you?” 

“See me what?” 

There she is. My little wildcat. My little obstinate 

nurse. 

“Pump.” 

“No. Why would it matter if he did? It’s a free country, lactating mothers should feel free to pump-.” 

My hand is on her mouth, shutting her up. 

Our noses are almost colliding. Whatever raspberry shampoo she’s using clogs my nostrils and weakens my defenses. 

“Whose shirt is that?” 

She blinks. 

I feel her lips moving against my palm. 

I give her space to speak knowing I won’t like her 

answers. 

“I found it while going through the things I 

packed for Millie when you uprooted us from our old apartment.” 

“Is it Rhett’s?” 

It is. 

“It’s comfortable to sleep in, the fact that it’s on me doesn’t mean it has anything to do with him.” 

Her soft skin is wrapped by that shirt. The fact that she’s sleeping with it…no about to sleep with it on her… 

“Take it off.” 

“Seriously? You are doing this to me again? No. You want to hear it in Spanish? Germany? French? 

No!”