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The study was quiet except for the faint click of Raven’s laptop keys. The glow from the screen lit his face in pale blue. Papers lay stacked in order on the desk, a cigarette half-burned in the tray beside him.
On the couch, Maximus lounged sideways, a pistol balanced in one hand. He flicked the barrel with his thumb, spinning it slow, while his other hand typed quick bursts into his phone. His foot tapped against the armrest in a restless rhythm.
The phone on Raven’s desk buzzed. The screen lit with a name he could not ignore.
Raven picked it up. “Yes.”
The voice that answered was sharp and aged, heavy with command. Even through the speaker, Elder Volkov’s tone left no room for reply.
“You will come to the estate tonight. The family is gathered. We will speak.”
There was a muffled sound in the background, a shuffle of voices, before the elder’s voice cut through again, harder.
“Do not delay, Raven. This is not a request.”
The line went dead.
Raven set the phone down. His jaw tightened once, then stilled.
Maximus glanced up from his screen. “Old man calling?”
Raven closed the laptop, the click final. “Estate. Now.”
Maximus whistled low and let the pistol fall against the couch cushion. “Sounds serious.” He pushed himself up, stretching lazily, though his eyes flicked with curiosity. “What’s he barking about this time?”
Raven stood, pulling on his jacket. “You’ll hear soon enough.”
He paused at the door and turned his head slightly. “Tell Mira there’s a guest in the east wing. He stays fed.”
Maximus smirked. “The pretty one?”
Raven’s eyes cut back, steel-grey, cold.
Maximus raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Food, no questions. I’ll pass the message.”
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~~~~~
The kitchen smelled of stew and bread when Maximus walked in. Mira stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot. Lily and Lara moved quietly at the sink, washing vegetables, heads bowed in their usual nervous silence.
“Ladies,” Maximus drawled, leaning against the doorway. He tugged his sleeves higher and flashed a grin. “You get prettier every time I see you. It’s unfair, really.”
Lily flushed pink and turned back to the sink. Lara ducked her head, whispering something that made her sister stifle a laugh.
Mira didn’t bother looking up. “What do you want, Max?”
He stepped further in, snatching a piece of bread from the counter. “Message from the boss. Guest in the east wing. He eats well. That’s all.” He tore off a bite, chewing slow. “You might want to check he’s not scared of the dark too.”
Mira swatted at him with the wooden spoon, scowling. “Out. Some of us work for a living.”
He dodged the swing with a laugh and backed toward the door, still chewing. “Careful, Mira, one day I’ll steal you from this kitchen.”
“You’d choke before you made it to the door,” she shot back.
Maximus winked at Lily on his way out. Her cheeks flushed deeper, and Mira threw the spoon across the counter in warning.
His laugh echoed down the hall as he rejoined Raven, who was already striding toward the waiting convoy.
Engines rumbled low in the driveway, black cars lined up in a sharp row. Headlights cut through the mist curling along the grounds. The Volkov crest gleamed on each hood, a silent warning to anyone who might watch from the shadows.
Raven stepped out first, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket with a slow precision, every move deliberate, controlled. Behind him, Maximus slid from the passenger seat, running a hand through his hair as if he were heading into a bar fight instead of a family summons.
Men climbed out of the other cars—armed, dressed in black, silent as shadows. They spread into formation without needing orders, two falling in behind Raven, the rest holding position near the cars.
Maximus stretched his shoulders, his voice pitched low as he leaned closer. “Feels like a goddamn funeral.”
Raven didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the estate ahead.
The Volkov estate loomed in the distance, a sprawl of dark stone and iron gates. The windows burned with golden light, rows of them lit as if the whole family had gathered to watch his arrival.
The convoy pushed forward, tires crunching against the gravel drive until the cars stopped at the front steps. Raven walked up without hesitation, Maximus at his shoulder, the rest of the men trailing a careful distance behind.
The doors opened before they reached them. Two guards in formal black held them wide, bowing slightly but saying nothing. Their eyes flicked nervously toward Raven, then dropped fast.
Inside, the air was warmer, heavier. Chandeliers burned bright above the marble floor, their crystals throwing sharp light across portraits of dead Volkov men who stared down from the walls.
They weren’t alone.
Voices carried from deeper inside….dozens of them. The low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, laughter that didn’t reach the eyes. The family had gathered, and not only the family.
Maximus slowed just a fraction, his jaw tight as his gaze swept the room. Then he leaned closer, his words a whisper meant for Raven alone.
“What are the Arsenyevs doing here?”
At the far side of the room, figures stood apart from the Volkovs. A tall man with a proud bearing, his hair streaked silver though his shoulders stayed square. A woman beside him, poised and elegant in a dark dress, eyes sharp behind the practiced smile. And between them, their daughter.
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She stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her, her dress gleaming in the chandelier light. Her chin was lifted, her gaze steady, lips painted crimson. There was no mistaking her purpose here.
Maximus’ grin faltered. The blood drained from his face. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, fuck no. Have they finally decided to marry me off? I’ve been on my best behavior lately.”
He looked at Raven, searching for a flicker of confirmation, some clue that he was wrong.
Raven’s expression didn’t change. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, cold and unblinking.
The room shifted as Raven entered, the hum of conversation breaking into silence. Heads turned, eyes darted.
Family filled the hall; uncles, cousins, wives, their children lined up in polished rows. Some gave stiff nods, others only scowled, lips pressed thin but none spoke.
Raven’s gaze cut across them like glass. He didn’t slow nor didn’t offer acknowledgment. He walked straight through the middle of the gathering as though the others weren’t even there.
They hated him for it. He saw it in the lines around their mouths, the flicker in their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. Resentment ran thick but so did fear.
Fear had been earned.
He had once broken his uncle’s leg in front of half the family for daring to rally votes against him. Another had been dragged bleeding from a meeting after whispering betrayal behind Raven’s back. He did not bluff neither did he hesitate. Not even family was safe from his hand.
That memory hung between them now, unspoken, and not one of them moved.
Maximus stayed close, hands buried in his pockets, smirking faintly like he enjoyed the discomfort in the air.
The only sound was the measured tap of Raven’s steps against marble.
At the far end of the room, the Arsenyevs stood waiting.
Adam Arsenyev was the first to step forward, tall, broad-shouldered, his dark suit tailored sharp, his face carved into a stern smile that did not reach his eyes. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man long accustomed to power.
Beside him, Sarah Arsenyev rested a hand on her husband’s arm. Her beauty was refined. A string of pearls lay against her throat. She inclined her head gracefully, her lips curving in a polite smile that held no warmth.
And between them, their daughter.
Lisa Arsenyev.
Her dress clung to her figure, emerald silk that shone like liquid in the light. Her hair fell smooth down her back, her lips painted in a crimson smile that was calculated rather than sweet. She didn’t avert her gaze when Raven looked at her, if anything, her chin lifted higher, her eyes locking on his with a glint of challenge.
“Raven Volkov,” Adam said, his voice carrying the practiced weight of diplomacy. “It has been some time.”
Raven didn’t answer. He didn’t offer his hand nor nod. He stood silent, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the man.
A ripple moved through the gathered family at his disregard. Some shifted uncomfortably, others glared. Still no one dared speak.
Sarah’s smile only sharpened. “Your reputation precedes you. We are honored to be here, finally.”
Lisa tilted her head, her smile slow, deliberate. “And I am… curious.”
The silence stretched. Maximus glanced sideways, eyebrows arching, clearly amused.
It was Elder Volkov’s cane striking against the marble that cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. The sound echoed like a gunshot.
Raven finally turned his head, his gaze shifting to the patriarch.
“Father.”
Elder Volkov sat in his chair at the head of the room, leaning slightly on the cane though he hardly needed it. His presence filled the space more than the chandeliers or the portraits. His eyes, dark and sharp as a hawk’s, swept the room before settling on Raven.
He didn’t speak yet. He let the silence stretch, bending the room beneath it.
And still Raven stood motionless, waiting, his face carved from stone.
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The cane struck the marble again, sharp enough to silence even the faintest whisper in the hall.
Elder Volkov leaned forward in his chair, the carved wood and velvet towering like a throne behind him. His lined face was weathered, but the fire in his eyes had not dimmed with age. His gaze swept the gathering before it pinned itself on Raven.
“You have been summoned here,” the Elder began, his Russian accent thick, words slow and deliberate, “because the Volkov name is bleeding in the streets.”
The statement hung heavy. No one shifted, though several of the family members looked down, uneasy.
“The court war against the Vale family has made us vulnerable. The people whisper. Our enemies circle like dogs.” He tapped the cane once, the sound a warning. “And it is your carelessness, Raven, that brought this weight upon us.”
A murmur rippled through the room—quickly stifled. No one dared hold Elder Volkov’s eye.
Raven’s face didn’t change. Not a flicker. His hands rested loosely at his sides, cufflinks catching the chandelier’s light. His silence itself was a defiance—he would not give his father the satisfaction of a defense.
Elder Volkov went on. “The syndicate cannot afford your shadows, your bloodied streets, your arrogance. And so, you will carry the cross. You will atone for the instability you have birthed.”
He gestured with the cane, pointing toward the Arsenyevs.
Adam straightened, Sarah’s smile widened, and Lisa took one graceful step forward, her eyes locked on Raven.
Lisa inclined her head slightly, golden hair catching the chandelier light. Her parents smiled, polite and expectant. Lisa did not. Her lips curved in the faintest smirk, sharp as glass, her gaze cutting across Raven as if she already knew exactly what game she was stepping into.
“You will be engaged,” the elder Volkov continued, his tone final, merciless. “The city will feast on the news. They will chatter of diamonds and alliances, not lawsuits and blood. While they drown themselves in gossip, the Volkovs will gather their strength. We will bleed our enemies in silence.”
He leaned forward, cane pressing into the floor, his glare pinning Raven like a knife.
“You will host Lisa in your home. The world will see you together. In five months, there will be a wedding. It will not be delayed.”
The air thickened, almost suffocating. Maximus glanced sideways at Raven, waiting for some spark, some crack but Raven didn’t blink. He held the silence with the same cold control he wore in a firefight.
“This is not about choice,” the elder said, voice low, dangerous. “It is about survival. You will carry this cross, Raven. You will serve the family before yourself.”
The cane struck the marble again, sealing the decree.
Lisa’s smirk widened just a fraction, enough for only Raven to see. Not sweet. Not shy. A glimmer of something colder, mockery, or maybe challenge.
And for the first time that night, the Volkov hall didn’t feel like it belonged to Raven alone.
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and then Add to home screen.