Page 1 of Violent Love: Viktor
Chapter 1
Viktor
The change in the Pakhan was like night and day. I witnessed it all—from mental torture to wedded bliss. He didn’t just win hiskrolikover; he thrived in their twisted bond. His wife was the perfect fit, like two shattered souls mashing their jagged edges together to create something new. He didn’t waste time knocking her up, either.
I washed my face with cold water, smoothing it over my beard. It hid the worst of the scars around my mouth, but the ones running down my nose, across my eye, and along my cheek always made me self-conscious.
I told the Pakhan I didn’t want the high-ranking position because I didn’t like dealing with people. That was only part of the truth. I hated the way they stared at my face. The Bratva didn’t care. It was the outsiders—third-party rats and contractors—that couldn’t hide their flinches. Gavriil and Pyotr could deal with them. I preferred my solitude.
Being the Pakhan’s guard kept me close to home and beside a man I admired. Brutal, sadistic…but fair. He was a master of creative torture, and our Brotherhood had rules we all followed.
I was his right hand for quick kills. But the longer I watched the doctor work, the more inspired I became. Death shouldn’t come easily to those who commit evil or betray the Bratva. It should be savoured, like expensive vodka—smooth going down,then burning like hellfire. Violence was the only language I spoke fluently.
The sun broke across the horizon, streaking the sky with red and gold. I stared at the colours dispassionately as I buttoned my shirt. With my gun and dagger in place, I grabbed my jacket, hoping I’d get the chance to kill someone today. I needed it after yesterday, after walking in on the Pakhan and his wife fucking on his chair like a pair of savages. He got the job done—married and pregnant.
Why did they have to be so fucking feral?
I almost smiled. None of us were normal. We were all broken in our own way. Still, they were perfect for each other—mutually obsessed, mutually insane.
The house was quiet as I went to the kitchen for coffee. I hesitated when I saw Ania sitting at the island with a jar of peanut butter. She’d never know how much I admired her courage, not just for how she endured the Pakhan's cruelty, his mental torture, but for how she thrived in it.
Ania didn’t just survive a brutal man. She outlasted him. Tamed him. With her mind sharper than any blade in this organisation, she rooted out filth from the darkest corners of society, one keystroke at a time. She was the only woman who hadn’t flinched when she saw my face. Not out of pity. Not out of fear. Just…understanding.
That’s when I knew that no matter how twisted our world was, she had earned her place at the top. Our Bratva Queen.
“Good morning,” she said, holding up the jar with a grimace.“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m always silently judging,” I muttered, heading for the coffee machine.
“Hey!”
“Bunny, what did I say about leaving our room?” came the inevitable growl.
I didn’t even flinch when I turned to see my naked boss—another day in the Ilyin household. I needed my own place. I’d seen more dick in this house than in a damn bathhouse.
“But the baby wanted some peanuty goodness,” she whined, holding up the jar like it was evidence.
When the coffee was ready, I poured a mug for both myself and the Pakhan. He was now seated, still naked, on the stool beside Ania, rubbing her small, swollen belly. He nodded as I slid the mug toward him.
“We want you to be the baby’s godfather,” he said.
I choked mid-sip.
I stared at them. They were serious.“I don’t know anything about kids.”
“Yeah, neither do we,” the Pakhan said dryly, sipping his coffee.
“I’m not sure the baby—” I started, frowning. I’d probably scare the kid.
“I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
“Da, Pakhan. I’d be honoured,” I said quietly, the weight of their trust settling in.“You know what I’d do to protect your little one.”
“I know, Viktor. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, slinging an arm around his wife.
“I miss coffee,” Ania said, leaning in to inhale her husband’s mug.
“And I miss when you couldn’t talk. We all make sacrifices, Bunny,” he drawled.
