Unkown's POV
My name is Aslan Ciro Volkov. The Russian Pakhan, the head of the Bratva.
A widower to Stella Briar Grey-Volkov.
Stella Grey-Volkov, also known as the Reina of the Spanish Mob.
A father to Ariella Lilac Volkov, the heiress, and princesa to the Russian Bratva and Spanish Mob.
I am the older brother of Malakai Volkov, who has a special seat in hell reserved for him.
Malakai, the one who killed my wife and daughter or still has her.
Through the years, all I've known towards my brother is vehement hatred. He wasn't even considered my blood anymore in the mafia world ever since I put a bounty on his head for a billion dollars. I've sent the best assassins after him but they never got close to bringing me his body.
I don't know why he did what he did, and I don't care. All I care about is his head being detached from his body.
The moment he succeeded in taking them, they went completely off the radar. The 3 billion trust fund he had from my parents didn't help either. He most likely used the money to make them seem like ghosts to the outside world. Not even ghosts...fucking non-existent.
My parents always took pity on Malakai because of his manipulative and psychotic behaviors. They thought he just needed extra guidance and help.
He does need help.
The help of my fist and gun.
Malakai always hung out with the wrong kind of people. Eventually, he and his posse formed their own group of havoc-wrenching maggots. He manipulated people into doing his bidding and he and his small gang were acknowledged as the 'West-Russians.' They were cast out and for a good reason too, but my parents still saw the good in Malakai.
But that night, their minds never changed so fast.
Their disgust for their youngest child only grew over the years. They loved Stella like she was their own, and when they saw her slit throat and green eyes dead open, they'd never cried more.
I don't remember much of that day.
I think I was drinking, killing, or demanding the doctors to bring her back as if she still had a chance. I don't know how I survived that day.
Parents say that they could never hate their children. And most times it's true...I could never hate my Ariella.
But my parents started hating Malakai with all their heart the second he did what he did.
I remember them loving their granddaughter more than life itself, but when Malakai had her swaddled in his arms with a dark smirk, the love turned into fear.
Fear of their own child.
Fear of what their child could do to a baby.
Now they're old, not wanting to die before seeing their granddaughter again. Like me, they don't want to face the possibility of her being with her mom, 6 feet under.
'She's alive. She has to be.'
I have to tell myself every day just so I can breathe. So I have a reason to go on each day.
So I have some hope.
"Aslan, I need you to follow me," Tobias, my right hand, spoke. Tobias also happened to be the Godfather of Ariella and my best friend.
My daughter had Tobias wrapped around her newborn finger in the first hour of being born. I caught him playing peek-a-boo a few times with her. Just imagine a 6'4, bulky, mafia man playing peek-a-boo with a 6-month-old.
I couldn't believe it either.
His wife, Mila, is the godmother to my daughter and was Stella's best friend. I remember Mila and Stella decorating the nursery together when my wife was pregnant; they both couldn't contain their excitement. Mila and Tobias definitely spoiled their goddaughter with everything a newborn could ever have and wouldn't need.
They were absolutely hooked the first time they saw her. I don't think I've seen Mila, Tobias, my mom, and dad fall in love faster. Other than Stella and I, of course.
I got up from my desk and followed him into the meeting room where Mila and my parents were. They all looked too serious for their own good.
My parents, Oksana Volkov and Roman Volkov sat in the chairs with a solemn expression that had been plastered on their faces for the past 22 years.
"I think you both should take a seat," Mila suggested, her voice shaky. Mila was the main person -besides Tobias and me- that oversaw the whole ordeal of getting Ariella back. She was the person who hired the private investigators and operatives.
Tobias and I looked at each other for a second before sitting down in two of the many chairs in the vast room that was surrounded by windows that overlooked Spain.
Some months we would be in Spain, my wife's territory which was entitled to me since I was the Rey of the Spanish Mob. Other months we would be in Russia.
The projector above us turned on and showcased a white cover on the blank screen in front of us. Mila held a remote in her hand that controlled it.
"This picture was taken 6 years ago but It was sent to us just this morning," Mila spoke as she pressed a button on the remote, making a clear and vivid picture pop up on the screen.
I don't believe it.
In the picture, was a young woman, maybe 17 years old that was smiling a smile that barely reached her eyes as she held a diploma in her hand in a graduation robe.
She had hair that was stained in gold, vivid blonde, and silken. Her defined face features were sharp yet soft. Her skin was a light tan, with the slightest bit of freckles scattered across her narrow-small nose and high cheekbones. Her soft brunette and full eyebrows and eyelashes complimented those emerald-jade eyes.
Her eyes were so eerily familiar. So vivid and pure with minty and chartreuse hues with sage and golden specks. Like an endless and deep forest with hidden emeralds.
The exact copy of Stella's eyes.
However, they were dull and almost hopeless. Vacant of any happiness or liveliness at all. She looked tired. Mentally tired. As if she was fighting for too long and was close to giving up. Like she couldn't physically or mentally take it anymore.
She looked tired.
I didn't feel the tears until they had fallen.
Ariella.
My daughter was alive.
"And this picture was taken last night and sent to us this morning just like the other one," Mila breathed as a tear fell from her eye, breaking the silence as she pressed another button, changing the picture.
If it wasn't for the hair and freckles, I would've thought it was Stella when we first met.
Her smile was so wide, so precious that it almost made the world seem a bit brighter. Her eyes twinkled more than before with utmost happiness. Her features were more matured in a good way like she had a certain glow and wisdom that wasn't in the other picture. She didn't look mentally exhausted in this one. No, she looked like she didn't want to waste a second.
She looked passionate and vigorous. She looked happy.
What caught me off guard was that she was holding the hands of a man.
A dark-haired and well-built man whose back was turned against the camera. The only thing I saw of the man was the tattoos on his neck and knuckles. From the looks of it, my daughter looked like she was looking at the best thing in the world.
I would know that look anywhere. Stella had that look in her eyes.
My daughter was in love...
Then Mila's words registered in my mind. This picture was taken last night, meaning her birthday. She's still alive. Ariella has been alive and well this whole time.
I looked around and saw that all eyes were stilled on the picture. My parents had silent tears sliding down their faces like me, Tobias, and Mila. My mother had the back of her hand pressed to her lips as she smiled adoringly at the picture like my dad.
Ariella really did look a lot like Stella...
"And this was taken this morning," Mila told us before she changed the picture.
In the picture, a man with sunglasses in a suit followed behind her as they walked on the sidewalk. It was a different man from before. This one looked like a bodyguard.
My daughter had her phone to her ear, sunglasses covering her jade eyes, and was dressed professionally as if she was going to a meeting of some kind. She was dressed expensively and I knew she had to be a successful person. Her expression was deadly grave like she was frustrated with the person on the other end of the phone.
She looked like my daughter in this picture.
Mila gave us one good last look at the picture before changing the picture to a document or file of some kind.
"It says here that her full government name is Ariella Lilac Grey. 23 years old with a bachelor's degree in Journalism and writing from Columbia University. Her occupation is an anonymous writer that goes by the initial of A.L.G," Mila informed us as she read off the information.
We were all taken aback by her being a renowned and famous author that most of the members in the bratva fangirled over. A sudden pride filled me when I heard of her success and achievements.
A tense air filled the room when we heard that she used her mother's last name.
She probably has no idea of who she really is.
"In the file, it says that Stella is listed as the mother but committed suicide on her 5th birthday. After she graduated from high school, Malakai went missing shortly after," Mila told us slowly.
We all knew that was wrong but it still angered us to an unimaginable amount. From the autopsy when we got her body it said that there were signs of a struggle and was obviously murdered. We knew that Malakai must've murdered her close to Ariella's 5th birthday but we didn't expect it to be exactly on that day.
I looked ahead on the file and saw whose name was listed as the father.
Malakai.
My jaw ticked as I exhaled dangerously slow. Just for that, I'm going to make sure he'll never be able to have children. The nerve of him taking the credit of creating someone so faultless is making my blood boil.
"As of right now, she lives in New York," Mila finished.
New York, Noctifer's base.
We had a civilized communication and relationship. I didn't bother him and he didn't bother me. I didn't know him nor did I see him. Like everyone else in the world, I had no clue who he was besides the rumors of the tattoos and unsettling aura.
I was glad he wasn't like the other power-hungry leaders who wanted to start a war just because he wanted control over the bratva. We never bothered each other unless it was the occasional shipment trade.
We never competed against each other even though we were the leaders of the top mafias in the world. The Russian Bratva, Spanish Mob, and Noctifer's Mafia were the most powerful and deadliest organizations on the planet.
Noctifer knew of the separation of the West-Russians and the actual Bratva and he was quick to slaughter them once they started meddling with his business.
That was one of the reasons why I liked him.
We were civilized and that was all I wished for. I didn't want to waste energy on a meaningless feud when I had more important things to worry about.
"We can't go just yet. From the information we received, it sounds like that she's involved with some dangerous and powerful people that are giving her protection from Malakai," Mila spoke.
Even with no idea of her heritage and inheritance, my daughter couldn't stay away from power.
What can I say? It was in her blood.
I'm glad she was smart about being friends with powerful people that could give her the protection she needed. Mother like daughter.
"What kind of dangerous people?" my mother spoke, breaking her silence.
Mila gulped before speaking, clearly not knowing how we would react to the information.
"A wealthy detective and...Uhm...Noctifer," Mila responded, hesitating.
I almost choked on air.
Out of all the people she had to get protection from, she got it from the hardest organization -besides the bratva- to infiltrate? The most dangerous man on the planet besides my old ass?
She definitely got her mother's brain, that's for sure.
I could see my dad smirking and shaking his head slowly from the corner of my eye, probably thinking the same thing I was.
"You were saying something about a detective?" Tobias spoke, dismissing the predicament about Noctifer.
"Yes. His father was Damon Montgomery, CEO of Montgomery Corporations. The main manufacturer of military weapons. He died a few years back, making his son inherit the company, Lucas Montgomery, the best detective in the states. Not many people knew Damon had an heir," Mila replied.
Fucking hell.
"That's my granddaughter all right," my dad chuckled.
So not only is she friends with Noctifer, she's friends with the guy who basically controls all weapon production in America who also happens to have a few medals and awards from his unbeatable detective work.
He literally solved the most known cold cases in history.
But I had no idea he played a vital role in weapon production and I doubt anyone else did too. All I thought was that he had some sort of trust fund or get extra money from the cases he solved. I didn't know he was the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company.
I bet Nocitfer didn't even know either.
She was definitely going to make this hard for us.
"What did you mean when you said that these were all sent to you?" I finally spoke up. That's when Mila's face went grave.
"It was Malakai. He's the one who sent us all the information and pictures," Mila revealed. My back molars ground together as my knuckles cracked.
"He's planning something. He wants you to know this because he knows that you'll go to her and that will be the perfect time to do whatever he's planning because you'll be there to watch," my dad spoke.
"He's deceiving you. This is the final part of his plan. He's planning something big," Tobias voiced.
They're right.
He gave us this information so we could find her, so we'd be there when he does what he plans to do.
He's going to kill Ariella.
And he's going to make me watch.
~
(A/N): WD-2497