Page 1 of My Hunger, Your Soul

Prologue

TYLER

"So, do you have an apartment lined up for your move to New York?" my brother Chase asks me, while I pour myself another glass of whiskey. I'm currently visiting him and his boyfriend Noah in the south of France, while I have some time off work before starting a new job, moving from California to New York.

"Yep. The company arranged somewhere for me. I've seen it online, and it's pretty cool. Has great views. Not far from work."

"That's great. I bet the work will be very different from LA." That’s an understatement. Not only will the lifestyle be different, but this is a more senior position that I have been working toward for years. I’m nervous as hell and don’t want to fuck it up.

"For sure. I've already been assigned a big contract with a rich family who are very renowned. I've never heard of them, but they live just outside the city. Some brothers who want a new property design. Russian guys, Kozlovs or something like that," I say and my head is spiraling into a drunken stupor.

"The Kozlov Brothers?" Noah says, his first contribution to this conversation tonight. I still can’t get over the fact that my brother is in love with a guy like this. He is the complete opposite of Chase’s ex, Wade. Wade was a lawyer who was always put together and stylish. Noah looks like a biker and a rockstar had a child together. Covered in tattoos, rings on every finger, dressed in everything black and is not only a broody fucker, but intimidating. I was worried at first when I met him, worried that he was a bad guy who would drag Chase down. But I let that all go when I saw how in love my brother is with him. I don’t think I will get used to Noah’s possessiveness, though, as it's extreme. He doesn’t want to share Chase’s time, but that’s something he’ll have to deal with as I’m not breaking away from my brother.

"Yeah, you heard of them?" I ask.

Noah snorts a laugh as he downs the rest of his drink.

"I've heard of them. You wanna be careful there, Tyler. From what I've heard, they're crazy fuckers. Drug dealers. One of their boyfriends is a nutjob. Rumor has it that he loves watching his man kill," Noah says, and the gleam in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. I know Noah was a patient of Chase’s at one point, and I do sometimes wonder what his issues were, because they must still be a work in progress with how anti-people he is.

"You fucking kiddin’ me? My boss said they were wealthy businessmen," I say, and the alcohol now feels like it’s rising back up my throat.

"They are businessmen. Their business is drugs," Noah says with a shrug.

"I-I can't work for them. It's unethical and must be illegal? Shit, does my boss know?"

"Probably. Everyone who matters on the East Coast, knows. From what I heard, they had quite a killing spree this year."

I sink back into my chair, my mouth hangs open and my eyes move in all directions without focusing, questioning every decision I’ve made. Chase watches me, picking up on my concern and like the typical therapist, he wants to help.

"Ty, I'm sure it'll be fine. Noah may have it wrong. I doubt your company works for people like that," Chase says, trying to reassure me, but the alcohol is only making the panic worse.

"I can't take this job knowing this," I say as I grab onto my hair and tug with both hands.

"Yes you can, stop being a fucking pussy. It's not like you're dealing drugs for them. You're drawing a picture of a house," Noah says, his voice laced with irritation.

"I don't draw houses, Noah. I design and innovate," I say.

Noah abruptly stands from the table, grabs Chase’s hand, and pulls him up.

"Don't give a fuck. We're going to bed."

Fucking Noah. How the hell Chase puts up with his grumpy ass I don't know. But I'll admit, it's the happiest I've seen my brother in years. I'm so proud of him. I'm not proud of the sounds coming from his room, though, as he enjoys a fuck session with the asshole of the year. Thank God my room is at the other end of the house. There are some things I just don't need to hear.

My head feels fuzzy as I stand and try to walk to my room, the whiskey now coming into full effect as I try to walk in a straight line. My stomach churns as I flop onto my bed, regretting drinking so much. I also attribute the sickly feeling to the bomb Noah just dropped on me about my first clients at the new job that awaits me.

The Kozlov Brothers.Shit. I hope Noah was joking, as I'm finding it hard to understand why a company as prestigious as Lexington Architectural would agree to take on such criminals.No, Noah has it wrong. There is no chance that my firm would put me in harm's way. I mean, drug dealers and boyfriends with murder kinks?Fuck. That.

I roll onto my back and allow myself to succumb to the drunken haze of sleep. I can't find the energy to move to undress.

No, it's all good. I'll start my new job, and I'll laugh with Chase about how Noah got me good on this. It'll be fine.

1

IVAN

Home, sweet fucking home. Well, at least I think it’s still home. It’s been ten years since I was last here in Grinston when I was twenty years old, working for my cousins, Dima and Lev, and I’m hoping being back in the fold will tame that urge to leave a city when I get bored. I’ve been restless lately. Everything that usually feeds my cravings is starting to wane, creating a doomful cloud of extreme boredom to hover over me. Nothing keeps my interest anymore. So, after finishing my contract in Florida for a questionable and non-legal security firm, my feet were itching to set foot back to where my taste for the high crime life started. And I did kinda miss Lev and Dima. They know how to have a good time when they make someone sing for their sins, and I certainly don’t have to put the mask of ‘normal citizen’ on when I’m around them, but that’s another story.

I settle into the back seat of the Uber taking me to the Kozlov mansion, scanning my gaze over the scenery of trees and quiet roads that become denser the further out of town we go. I open the window and breathe in the chilly air, letting the sharpness of the icy breeze revive my lungs. Fuck, I’ve missed the cold too. Its brashness, its unapologetic way of stabbing your skin, forcing you to be aware of how alive you are. I clutch my large black leather bag to my side as I lose myself in the nostalgia that the crisp air brings to the forefront of my mind. Being teenagers with Dima and Lev when we were left to fend for ourselves because of our useless as fuck parents. They brought us over from Russia as young children, to start a new life, a supposedly better life, which ended up in abandonment and taking on the roles of enforcers and drug dealers. I can’t be too mad at it though. Some people have a ‘calling’ in life and I found mine when I started working with the brothers. Violence and death. Fulfilling punishment in the name of consequences, living with structure and rules, and above all else, loyalty.

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