The Volkov's inheritance: 90 days to rule

Chapter 2:You Don’t Have a Home Anymore

Adrian’s POV

“You’re still here.”

The bartender’s voice cut through the low noise of the dive bar. He wiped a glass that would never get clean and looked at me like I was already dead.

I didn’t answer. I just lifted the cheap glass of red wine and forced another swallow. It tasted like vinegar and defeat. Five euros. That was all I had left after the twelve in my pocket. Everything else had been frozen by Damien Cross before the sun even reached the middle of the sky.

The bar smelled like stale beer, old cigarette smoke, and something sour that lived in the floorboards. Peeling wallpaper curled away from the walls like it was trying to escape. A muted football match played on a television in the corner that nobody watched. I sat in the farthest booth, back against the wall, staring at nothing.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw Damien’s face. That soft, snake smile. The way he leaned in close and told me I was finished. The way the security guards dragged me through the showroom while customers watched like it was free entertainment. The sound of my phone shattering against the brick wall outside.

We grew up on the same cracked street. Same mud when it rained. I used to share the last piece of bread with him when his father locked him out for the night. He slept on my floor more times than I could count. And today he looked me in the eye and erased me like I had never existed.

My hands curled into fists on the sticky table. The rage sat in my chest like a live wire that wouldn’t stop sparking. I wanted to walk back into Cross Motors and put that perfect face through the mahogany desk. I wanted him to feel even one second of what he had done to me.

I was so deep inside that hatred that I didn’t notice the older man until he was standing right in front of my table.

“Mr. Volkov?”

I looked up slow. He was in his sixties. Silver hair. A tailored suit that had no business being in a place like this. Sad eyes that looked like they had carried too many secrets for too many years. A leather briefcase hung from one hand.

My body went tight.

“Did Damien send you?” My voice came out low and raw. “Did he send you to take pictures of me drinking cheap wine so he can post them online and laugh with his rich friends?”

The man frowned. “I don’t work for Damien Cross.” He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down without asking permission. The briefcase landed on the table with a soft thud. “My name is Dominic Voss. I’m an attorney.”

I laughed. It came out bitter and ugly. “An attorney. I don’t have a cent left and my accounts are frozen. Unless you’re taking payment in broken dreams, you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m not here to charge you.” He opened the briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of documents and a single photograph. He slid the photo across the sticky wood toward me.

A man in his fifties stood on the deck of a massive yacht. Gray hair. Cold, piercing gray eyes that looked exactly like the ones I saw in the mirror every morning.

“Do you know this man?” Dominic asked.

“No.”

“His name was Nicolai Volkov. He was your father. He was murdered three days ago. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

I stared at the photo. Then I pushed it back hard enough that it almost slid off the table.

“Look, buddy, I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running, but I’m not falling for it. I never had a father. My mom raised me alone and she died when I was twelve. If this is some elaborate way to get me to sign a loan or confess to stealing from Damien, you can walk out that door right now.”

Dominic didn’t move. He just looked at me with something that felt like pity, and it made my skin crawl.

“It is not a scam, Adrian. Your father owned Volkov Shipping International. A twelve-billion-euro empire. And he left it all to you.”

I shook my head. The sheer size of the lie made the anger hotter. “Twelve billion. Right. And I’m the King of England. Maybe Damien hired you to mess with my head because he thinks I’m stupid. Tell him I’m not signing anything. Tell him he already won.”

Dominic sighed. He leaned forward, voice dropping lower.

“Your father had a business partner named Enzo Santi. Enzo murdered your father three days ago. He wants the company. If you don’t claim your inheritance within ninety days, the will is void. Enzo takes everything. And he will kill you to make sure you never come back.”

The word murder hung between us like smoke.

I felt my pulse kick hard in my throat. “Kill me?”

Before Dominic could answer, his eyes flicked toward the front door. His entire body went rigid. The color drained from his face so fast I thought he might pass out.

“We have to go,” he said, voice sharp as broken glass. He snatched the documents and shoved them into the briefcase. “Now.”

I frowned. “What? Why?”

“Don’t look at the door,” he whispered. “Three men just walked in. Black jackets. They aren’t here to drink.”

I looked anyway.

Three men moved through the bar like they owned the air. Big. Broad shoulders. Hands tucked inside their jackets. Their eyes scanned the room once and locked on our table.

Damien.

It had to be Damien. He didn’t just want to ruin my life. He wanted to end it. He probably sent this lawyer to lead me somewhere quiet so his thugs could finish the job.

“This is a setup,” I hissed, shoving my chair back hard enough that it scraped the floor. “You set me up. Damien sent you!”

“I don’t work for Damien,” Dominic repeated, already on his feet. “But if we don’t move right now, neither of us is going to live long enough to argue about it. Back door. Now.”

I didn’t trust him. Not even a little. But the three men were already walking toward us and the way they moved said they weren’t here for conversation.

I jumped up. Dominic grabbed the briefcase. We pushed past a waitress carrying empty glasses and two drunk guys arguing about a penalty. My shoulder hit the wall hard as we shoved through the narrow hallway. The back door slammed open under Dominic’s hand.

Rain hit us like a wall. Cold. Hard. The alley was narrow and dark, water already running in thin dirty streams between the bricks. My shirt was soaked in seconds.

“Where’s your car?” I yelled over the rain.

“I don’t have one,” Dominic shouted back, breathing hard.

“Are you kidding me?”

We ran toward the open end of the alley. My boots slapped through puddles. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my teeth. Behind us I heard the back door of the bar crash open again.

A black SUV screeched to a stop at the mouth of the alley, blocking the only way out. Doors flew open. Three men stepped out. This time the guns were visible. Silenced pistols. Professional. No shouting. Just the quiet certainty of people who had done this before.

I skidded to a stop so hard my boots slid on the wet pavement. My chest heaved.

This is it, I thought. Damien wins. I’m going to die in an alley because a rich bastard didn’t like my face.

“You set me up,” I snarled at Dominic. Rain ran down my face and into my mouth. “You led me right to them.”

Dominic looked terrified, but he stepped in front of me anyway. “Adrian, get behind me.”

One of the men raised his gun. But he didn't aim for my chest. He aimed low, at my leg. They weren't here to kill me. They were here to take me alive.

Then a shadow dropped from the fire escape above us.

She landed without a sound. Dark tactical gear. Platinum blonde hair pulled tight against the rain. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

The first gunman turned toward her. She moved faster than my eyes could follow. She grabbed his wrist, twisted, and the bone snapped with a wet crack that cut through the rain. She drove his head into the brick wall hard enough that I heard the impact. He dropped.

The second man fired. The silenced shot hissed past her shoulder. She dropped low, pulled a knife from her vest, and threw it in one smooth motion. The blade buried itself in his thigh. He screamed and collapsed, gun clattering across the wet ground.

The third man raised his weapon. She spun and kicked him square in the chest. The force lifted him off his feet and slammed him backward into the SUV’s windshield. Glass exploded outward. He didn’t get up.

The first man was still trying to stand, holding his broken wrist. She crossed the distance in two steps, grabbed him by the collar, and drove his face into the concrete. He went still.

Twelve seconds. Maybe less.

She stood in the middle of the alley, rain washing blood from her hands. Her chest rose and fell once. Then she turned and looked at me. Ice-blue eyes. Completely blank face.

“Are you hurt?” Her voice was flat. No emotion at all.

I stared at the three men on the ground. One was still groaning. One wasn’t moving. Blood mixed with rainwater and ran toward the drain.

“Who the hell are you?” My voice came out shaky.

“My name is Raven Moreau.” She walked over to the groaning man, picked up his gun, and checked the magazine like she was inspecting a tool. “Your father hired me six months ago as his personal bodyguard. But three days ago, the night he was killed, he gave me a new order. Find you. Keep you alive.” She looked at me again. “So far, I'm not doing a great job.”

I turned on Dominic. Water dripped from my hair into my eyes. “You knew about her?”

“Raven has been watching you from a distance,” he said. His voice shook. “Enzo’s men have been tracking you all day. They followed us to the bar.”

Raven walked over to the man she had thrown into the windshield. She checked his pulse, then looked back at me. Her eyes were ice-cold.

"They weren't aiming for your heart, Adrian," she said. "They were aiming for your leg. If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead. They were sent to capture you. If Enzo's men take you alive, it means he needs you for something. That's the only reason you're still breathing.”

My head spun. Fired. Framed. Homeless. And now I was supposed to believe my dead father left me a twelve-billion-euro empire that came with assassins and a bodyguard who could end three men in under fifteen seconds.

Raven walked toward the SUV. She grabbed the driver’s side door, yanked it open, and dragged the unconscious driver out into the street like he weighed nothing. She looked back at me.

“Get in the car, Adrian. We have a lot to do before sunrise.”

I froze. I hadn’t told her my name. I hadn’t told her anything.

“How do you know my name?” I demanded, taking a step back. Rain ran down my neck. “Did you go through my wallet? Did Damien send you?”

Raven didn’t flinch. “I’ve been shadowing you for six months, Adrian. I know your name. I know your shoe size. I know you eat the same cheap pasta every Tuesday because it’s the only thing you can afford. Your father paid me a lot of money to keep you alive. And right now, you’re making my job very difficult.”

The idea of this woman watching me from the shadows for half a year made my skin crawl. I felt exposed. Stripped bare.

“Look,” I said, and my voice cracked. “I don’t know you. I don’t know him.” I pointed at Dominic. “I don’t want his money or his empire. I just want to go home.”

Raven stared at me. For a fraction of a second something softened in those ice-blue eyes. Then it was gone.

“You don’t have a home anymore,” she said. Simple. Final.

I frowned. “What are you talking about? How do you even know that?”

“I have a police scanner in the SUV,” she said, her voice still flat. “The fire department was called to your apartment building twenty minutes ago. It’s a total loss. Arson.”

I felt like the ground had opened up beneath my feet.

“They burned it?” I whispered. My voice cracked in the middle. “They burned my apartment?”

“The same men who followed us here,” Raven said. “Enzo doesn’t leave loose ends. They wanted to destroy your identity. Anything that tied you to your old life.”

Why? I wanted to scream. Why would he go this far?

I thought about my apartment. The small table where I ate the same cheap pasta every Tuesday. My tools lined up on the shelf. The worn leather jacket that used to belong to my mother. The photo album she left me with the only pictures I still had of her face. All of it. Gone.

My hands started to shake. A wave of grief and rage crashed over me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and tried to stop the burning.

I looked at the three men bleeding in the alley. I looked at the open door of the black SUV. I looked at the rain falling on everything I had left.

I had nothing. No job. No home. No past. No proof that my mother had ever existed except the memories in my head.

Then I walked through the rain and got in the back seat.

Raven slid behind the wheel. Dominic climbed in beside me, still breathing hard, clutching the briefcase like it was the only solid thing left in the world. The engine growled to life.

As the SUV pulled away from the alley, I touched the silver necklace under my shirt. Damien had taken my job. Enzo had taken my home. And I had ninety days to take everything back.