Ruthless Hearts

Chapter 1 A Deal With The Devil

The night air was crisp as Camilie and Valeria stepped out of the dimly lit bar, the neon sign above the entrance flickering in a dull red glow. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by, and the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke still clung to their clothes. Valeria groaned, stretching her arms above her head. "Finally. If I had to deal with one more rude customer, I swear, I would've thrown a drink in his face." She scowled. "Some of these men think any girl working in a bar is beneath them." Camille chuckled, adjusting the strap of her purse. "You should be used to it by now." Valeria shot her a look. "Nobody gets used to being talked down to, Camille. So stop saying that." Camille smirked, her voice turning to tease. "This isn't about that guy who came in with his girlfriend, is it? The one you were practically drooling over?" Valeria gasped, feigning offense. "Point of correction-I was not drooling. I was simply... appreciating the view." Camille raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now?" "I wasn't flirting!" Valeria huffed. "And even if I was, that's beside the point." "Then why are you stammering?" Camille teased, linking their arms. "You can lie to everyone else, but not me. I know you too well." Valeria pouted. "Fine, maybe I was a little... interested. But that doesn't change the fact that this job is sucking the soul out of me." Camille sighed. She understood. Working at the bar had never been their dream, but it paid the bills. At least they had each other-best friends since childhood, ever since Valeria lost her parents in a plane crash. Valeria pulled out her phone and groaned. "That idiot still isn't here. I told Frank to pick me up an hour ago." "Want to wait inside?"Camille says "Nah, let's walk to the bus stop. Maybe by the time we get there, he'll have finally grown a brain cell and arrived." As they walked, Valeria nudged her playfully. "By the way, the guy at the bar earlier said he liked you." Camille frowned. "Which guy?" "The tall one with the C-cut. Looked rich." Valeria smirked. "And judging by his shoe size, I'd bet his dick is massive." Camille gasped and shoved her. "You're disgusting." "I'm observant," Valeria corrected, waggling her brows. "And don't act like you're not curious." "I'm not." "You are." "I just-" "You just don't want to admit it." Valeria grinned. "Camilie, you're too serious. One day, you'll meet someone who makes you want to rip his clothes off." Camille rolled her eyes. "I'd rather wait till then my love." Valeria sighed dramatically. "Alright, little angel. But when you finally get a taste, you'll be begging for more." Camilie covered her ears. "Conversation over. Before Valeria could respond, a car horn blared. Frank, Valeria's boyfriend, had finally arrived. "It's about time," Valeria muttered, yanking open the car door and throwing herself in. Frank was a handsome guy, average in height, with an easygoing charm that made him likable. "Hey, Camille," he greeted as she got into the back seat. "Hey, Frank." "How was work today"? Camille responded, "Well not that bad" Valeria immediately cut in. "Frank, have you even asked me how work was?" "Babe, I didn't want to make you more upset." Valeria huffed. "Ugh, you're such a manipulative nigga" Frank sighed and leaned over, kissing her cheek. "You're my baby, my joy and I love you regardless of your immature attitude though. Do you miss me?" "Yes," Valeria admitted, softening slightly. But within seconds, she was running her hands over him, their touching growing more heated. Her voice turned sultry. "Babe... why is so hard? Frank smiled at her. Camille, watching from the back, felt a twinge of jealousy-not because she wanted Frank, but because she wondered what it would feel like to have someone desire her that way. "Guys," she cleared her throat. "I'd rather not witness your foreplay." Frank chuckled, but Valeria only smirked. "Don't be mad, bestie. One day, you'll find someone who makes you want to rip his clothes off in a car." "Not likely." A few minutes later, they reached Camilie's neighborhood. She stepped out, leaning into the front window. "Mr. and Mrs. Horny, please mind the road. You can devour each other once you get home." Valeria stuck her tongue out. "Bye, best friend!" Camille waved them off before turning toward her house. But as she neared her home, a strange sight made her steps falter. A convoy of sleek black SUVs lined the street in front of her house. The sight alone sent a shiver down her spine. Something was not right. Her pulse quickened as she rushed inside. *Hours Earlier Inside Nikolai Petrov's Home* Mr. Luciano Volkov is in the home of Nikolai Petrov's family father. Mr Nikolai a former employee of Luciano's father betrayed the family of Volkov and sold them off to the rival which got one of Luciano's best friends killed. Luciano Volkov has come to serve justice in his own way. Luciano's grand entrance to Mr Nikolai's home is more than that of a prince. The first to step out was his men-tall, broad, and clad in dark suits, each one exuding an aura of quiet menace. Their movements were calculated, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threat. They weren't just bodyguards; they were enforcers, men who had seen blood and spilled it without hesitation. Then, Luciano emerged. He stepped out of the car with the kind of controlled grace that came naturally to a man who never needed to rush. The cold evening air did nothing to dull the authority radiating from him. Dressed in a tailored black suit that fit his powerful frame perfectly, he adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white shirt as he surveyed the house with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he walked forward, his footsteps firm but unhurried, as if he already owned the place. His men flanked him, following closely behind with a silent, disciplined presence that only heightened the tension. Inside, Mr. Nikolai had been pacing, his hands clammy, knowing this moment was inevitable. The second the door swung open, he stopped in his tracks. His wife let out a small, shaky breath, her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. Luciano entered without hesitation, his presence consuming the room. He didn't have to raise his voice. He didn't have to make a grand statement. The sheer force of his existence was enough to make everyone feel the suffocating weight of power. His cold blue eyes flicked toward Nikolai, unimpressed, detached. Then, with the ease of a man who had done this a hundred times before, he sank into the nearest chair, his posture both relaxed and commanding. His men took their positions around the room, standing like silent sentinels. For a moment, he said nothing. He merely observed. The quiet stretched long enough for the tension to grow unbearable before he finally spoke. "You know why I'm here." His voice was low and smooth, but laced with something that sent a shiver down Nikolai's spine. Still in the middle of their discussion, Camille stepped through the door, her eyes locked on a man standing in the middle of the living room. Tall. Broad shoulders. Power radiated from his very stance. His tailored black suit fit his muscular frame perfectly, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the hard chest beneath. His hair was sleek and neatly styled, his sharp jawline shadowed with a hint of stubble. And his eyes. Piercing, icy blue. Like a predator watching its prey. Camille felt her breath hitch as she took him in. She had never seen a man like him before-so effortlessly intimidating, so cruelly handsome. Then, her gaze-almost against her will-drifted downward. Valeria's ridiculous superstition echoed in her head. Big feet mean big... Her cheeks burned as she realized what she was doing and snapped out of it, shaking herself. This wasn't the time to gawk. The air was thick with tension. Her father stood stiffly near the stairs, his face pale. Her mother sat quietly on the couch, her hands gripping each other so tightly they trembled. The men surrounding him were just as imposing, as their black suits and unreadable expressions made them look more like shadows than people. Luciano turned slightly, his gaze flicking to her brief, indifferent. And yet, in that split second, her skin prickled, as if she had stepped too close to an open flame. Luciano exhaled slowly as if growing bored of the entire situation. He stood up, the slow, deliberate motion of his rise commanding everyone's attention. His presence had already filled the room, but now, as he moved, it became suffocating. Nikolai Petrov remained frozen, his breathing shallow, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of his chair. He knew what was coming. Luciano adjusted the cuff of his pristine black suit, his expression cold and unreadable. Then, he turned his piercing blue eyes on Nikolai for the final time that night. "You have until dawn," his voice was calm, but the weight of his words sent a chill through the air. A heavy silence followed the unspoken threat settling deep into the bones of everyone in the room. No one doubted what he meant-there would be no second warning. With that, he stepped away, walking toward the door with the same unhurried confidence, his men falling into place behind him. They moved like shadows, disciplined and lethal, their presence as intimidating as the man they followed. Camille, still processing everything, watched in stunned silence. She hadn't even spoken a word, yet she could feel the shift in her world, the danger pressing against her skin. Luciano didn't glance back. Not at her. Not at her mother. Not at the home he had just invaded. He simply walked out. As the front door closed behind him, the low rumble of the SUV engines roared to life. Within seconds, the convoy of black vehicles rolled out of the compound, disappearing into the night as quickly as they had arrived. And just like that, everything went quiet. Camille turned to her father, her voice barely above a whisper. "Dad... what have you done?" what is going on? Nikolai didn't answer. He just ran a shaking hand down his face, his silence saying more than words ever could. Mrs. Gladys turned to Camilie, her expression grim. "Come and sit," she said, her voice tight. "Your father has something to say to you." Camilie hesitated. The heaviness in the room hadn't lifted since Luciano left. The way her mother's hands were clenched, the hard set of her father's jaw-it all pointed to something she wouldn't like. She reluctantly moved toward the couch, lowering herself into the seat. Her heart thumped with unease as she looked between her parents. Gladys folded her arms. "Tell her, Nikolai," she snapped, her tone sharp with resentment. "Tell her what you've done." Nikolai inhaled deeply, rubbing his hands over his face. The weight of his sins was suffocating, but he had already made his choice. There was no turning back. Finally, he met Camilie's gaze and spoke. "You will marry Luciano Volkov." The words slammed into her like a freight train. For a second, she thought she had misheard him. "What?" "You heard me." Camille let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "You can't be serious." "I am," Nikolai said firmly. "The decision has been made." Her stomach churned. "You want me to marry him? A man I don't even know? A man who walked into our home as he owned it?" "That man," Nikolai said, his voice laced with finality, "is the only reason we are still breathing." Camilie's chest tightened. She shook her head, trying to process what he was saying. "No... no, this is insane. You can't just sell me off to some mafia boss like I'm-like I'm-" "It's done, Camilie," Nikolai interrupted, his tone unwavering. Tears burned her eyes. She shot up from her seat. "You're unbelievable!" Nikolai didn't flinch. He didn't plead. He simply sat there, as if her reaction was expected. Camille turned to her mother, desperate. "Mom?" Gladys had been silent, her body trembling with anger. But when she spoke, her voice was venomous. "I told him," she spat, eyes flashing with fury. "I told him not to involve himself with these people! I begged him, Nikolai, think of your family! But did he listen? No. Because Nikolai Petrov only thinks of himself!" Camilie's chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to breathe past the panic clawing at her throat. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Without another word, she turned and bolted. "Camilie!" her mother called after her, but she didn't stop. She ran up the stairs, rushed into her bedroom, and slammed the door shut. With shaky fingers, she locked it, then backed away, her heart pounding. And then, she sank onto the bed and broke down. Silent tears turned into quiet sobs. How could he do this to her? Marry him? The man who had walked into their home like a storm? A man who had barely even looked at her, as if she was nothing? She barely knew him, but she knew enough. He was dangerous. He was merciless. And now, he was supposed to be her husband? Downstairs, Gladys turned on her husband with uncontained rage. "You're a headless, selfish man," she hissed. "You want to force our daughter to marry that murderer!" "That murderer is the only reason we are still alive Gladys!" Nikolai shot back. Gladys pointed a trembling finger at him. "No! You should pay for your crimes! You! Not my daughter!" "She is my daughter too," Nikolai growled. "And I have every right to decide what is best for her!" Gladys let out a bitter laugh. "Best for her?" she echoed. "You're sacrificing her like a lamb, Nikolai. That is not what a good father does!" "She will be fine," he said coldly. "She will have power, security-" "She will have a life of fear!" Gladys cut in. "I won't allow it. Not while I am alive!" And with that, she spun on her heel and hurried up the stairs.