Chapter one
Forty thousand
Your brother owes the Zorin Bratva forty thousand dollars, and the man holding that debt has decided you will be the one to pay it.
Lev Zorin doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The club has emptied around you without anyone being asked: glasses left on the bar, snow ticking against the black windows, the doors locked from the inside.
His men call him the Tsar. Up close, you understand why.
‘Your brother ran,’ he says, turning a heavy gold ring on his finger. ‘You didn’t. I find that interesting.’
‘Everyone pays,’ he says softly. ‘The only question is how. Sit. I’d hate for you to make this harder than it needs to be.’
What do you do?
Pick one to open the demo and see where it goes.



