Page 1 of His Hold

Chapter 1

Katya

They say if you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back. They never warn you how the darkness cradles you, and how emptiness becomes home. How do you start craving the void, not out of fear but need?

Because darkness isn’t just an absence of light, it’s a lawless place, where mercy is a myth and morality is a crutch for the weak. It makes you shed your softness like rotting skin until all that’s left is something vicious, a hunger without conscience.

In the dark, cruelty isn’t a sin. It’s a skill.

And that’s what frightens me the most. Not this suicide mission I’ve set on for months. Not the Bratva. It’s me. It’s how much I’ve changed.

Once, I was this soft, idealistic woman who believed blood couldn’t betray blood. But loss cracks you open, hollows you out, fills you with things you never wanted to hold.

Bitterness. Fury. Obsession.

I’ve been hunting him for weeks, chasing whispers from cowards too afraid to speak his name but desperate enough to trade secrets for cash or painkillers.

The Bratva’s most ruthless enforcer. He’s my key. The one who’ll know what happened to Irina.

Five years ago, my sister disappeared. Apparently, she’d been doing some odd jobs for some shady men. And according to her emails, I went through, she had messages from different men, all asking her to meet up at certain locations. The latest one mentioned her meeting here.

After keeping tabs on this place for months, I narrowed down the patrons to the man I was looking for. He is here today. I was even more certain after his name matched the one I saw one year ago, when I found Irina’s last journal hidden beneath her mattress, scribbled hastily in terrified handwriting.

That was what started this mission in the first place.

'Nikolai. R. knows. He’s coming.'

Those letters haunted me for days until I began my search, which pulled me deeper into Bratva’s world. My sister’s disappearance is linked to one man.

I wasn’t absolutely sure he was responsible, but I had a feeling he played a large part. And I always trusted my feelings.

Finally, after months, my latest intel has directed me to this strip club. Since this whole thing started, I’ve tracked his kind to places like this before.

I always know what to expect, whether it’s research for my writing or simply as a follow-up.

But stepping into Danger Drop tonight, I realize darkness has many faces. Some hide in plain sight while others flaunt themselves openly beneath neon lights. So unapologetic and filthy is the debauchery, that it takes me off guard like I’ve walked into the heart of something corrupt.

My eyes catch movement in the corner as a couple is tangled in primal abandon on one of the chaise lounges. The chains around their bodies clinking rhythmically, lost completely in a feral tangle of lust.

While there are some people who seem rather fascinated enough to watch with eyes glazed with sick hunger, the others just continue about their lives, unfazed by the raw, animalistic fucking unfolding like it’s nothing.

A girl in a red wig struts in with nothing but panties and a strap-on, her smile wicked and inviting. She strokes the toy with slow, practiced hands, glistening under the lights, daring me to imagine the feel of her skin against mine.

Even as she rubs her cock, she uses a free hand to massage the hard roundness of her tits, squeezing them like she’s daring me to imagine how they’d feel crushed against my face. Her breasts are obviously fake, but they’re beautiful in the kind of way overly expensive things are, perfect and wrong all at once.

It’s a good thing I decided to wear this strapless dress. I bought it on a whim because I wanted to use it to express myself on days that I went out like this, which has been almost never.

I’d taken time with my hair today, curling it instead of leaving it dry and straight. It clings to my forehead and the sides of my face, framing it in a delicate whirl of damp, wild strands.

I feel powerful like this today. I feel beautiful. The men flocking around me are proof of this, their eyes raking over me like they’re starving, like they’d kill to bury themselves in me.

I’m used to this amount of attention. And usually I hate it. But I feed off it, and tonight, I couldn’t care less.

There is only one person I care about, and it’s him: Nikolai Ramensky. Nikolai’s reputation precedes him. He is violent, ruthless, and for months, I’ve had to scrape in the dark for something tangible. But tonight, he's finally within reach.

And once I gather enough evidence to prove he’s the reason my sister vanished, I’ll make him pay.

I just need to get his attention. It’s the first step of the plan. I have it all mapped out.

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