Vik (Shot Callers 2)

We couldn’t live like this anymore.

This life, the one Roam spoke about, was easy for me. And he might have been right. I craved it.

To live that high again. To be above the law. To have money and the fear of men—it fed the dark part of me. I wanted nothing more than to relive the days of old where I would escape a bloodbath, come home to my woman, kiss those sweet lips, and fuck her nice and slow until the adrenaline coursing through me was appeased.

That was the life.

It was a life I missed more than I should have. After all, the past was the past.

Sasha and Lev had the club. I had nothing. Nastasia deserved more than nothing. She deserved a man, a whole man, not half of one who relied on the kindness of his boys, begging them to throw him a freaking bone in order to live a decent life.

Don’t get me wrong; they were close to my heart. All of them. But that was their life, not mine.

Bitterness swept through me, taking away with it another small piece of the light that was fading fast. My body was becoming a shell, my soul barely glowing in the depths of my despair.

My life was in shambles.

I didn’t know how much more I could take. My woman had left me, my friends were oblivious to my struggles, and my family expected more from me than I had to give. Falling apart at the seams, my mental health was failing me. But I kept quiet.

The thread, however, pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.

“I think we could help each other.” Roam’s rough lilt cut through my thoughts, and he glanced at me then. “But I need a commitment from you. I’ll do what I can to give you as much work as possible, but from now on—” His eyes darkened a notch. “—I’m your daddy, Vik.”

My stomach twisted, and my chest tightened along with the cut of my jaw.

Fuck me, he was a piece of shit.

This thing, this display of dominance, was nothing more than a dick-measuring contest. I fought a roll of my eyes and sat up taller, refusing to blink at the man who thought he owned me now.

And Roam’s cheek ticked. “For all intents and purposes, you are one of us, and I don’t take that lightly. The only reason I’m giving you an in is because Chaos was a brutal firm. They did gorgeous work. Tore down the city and rebuilt it on a red square. Fucking beautiful. As for you? Your reputation precedes you, and—” He snuffled out an acidic laugh. “—we are of like stock, you and me. Our anger is our biggest weapon.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a joint and lighting it. He put it to his lips and inhaled deeply, speaking through a smoky exhale. “I’ll admit, I’m curious. I want to see you in action.” I might have been a little surprised when he licked his lips and uttered, “You start tonight.”

Tonight?

“I have work tonight,” I returned, and the slight change in his demeanor immediately told me I fucked up.

Roam stared at me. He stared long and hard until he put down the joint and uttered bored-like, “Yeah, you do.” Long fingers tapped faintly on the edge of his desk, and he muttered dangerously, “For me. I don’t know what kind of trade you think I’m running here but”—he looked over at me through thick lashes and a glare—“when I say you have work, you come running. Whatever else you have going on in your life is not my fucking business. I don’t care if your girl is upset. I don’t care if your grandmother’s sick. I don’t want to know about drama outside of what we do, because—” He paused a moment. “—I don’t give a fuck. Not a single fuck. And if I had a fuck to spare—” he looked me up and down, and his lip curled. “—I would not waste it on you.”

Honestly, he said nothing I hadn’t been expecting, and obviously, I touched on a livewire with my attitude. I wasn’t an idiot. Even though he was every bit the gentleman, this man’s fists had seen more action than a whore on Sundays.

Roam would not have made it to the position of crime lord without having shed his fair share of blood. And by the looks of him, he’d painted the streets red.

My every instinct told me to fight back, but for once, my priorities had me holding my tongue. “No problem.” Seeming appeased by my response, he offered me a freshly rolled joint. I waved him off. “No thanks.”

Roam’s face wore such a harsh displeasure that, for a second, had my stomach twisting. I had unwittingly insulted him. He held it out a second time, and although I hesitated, I reached out to take it, and he said coarsely, “When your boss offers you a taste of happiness, you take it.” He packed away his tin and muttered under his breath, “After tonight, you’ll need it.”