Fated to the don

Dmitri's POV

The city was a blurred past as I pushed the accelerator, feeling the expensive engine of my Aston Martin roar in response.

The speedometer was kissing a number that would give any normal human a heart attack but my reflexes were more than enough to handle these clumsy slow-moving drivers.. they were like insects crawling across the pavement.

I had to get to the clubhouse. Damon's call had cut through the lingering fog of last night's whiskey with a sharp reminder that the world kept turning, mate or no mate.

I'd showered, changed and popped a piece of gum in my mouth to mask the scent of regret and alcohol bbut nothing could mask the new constant hum in my blood... the pull toward her.

In my rearview mirror, flashes of red and blue suddenly appeared. Great. Just what I needed.

A cop car was on my tail, its siren a pathetic little wail against the roar of my car. I sighed, downshifted and smoothly pulled over to the curb. Rule number one: don't make a spectacle for the public. It's bad for business.

I rolled down the window as the officer approached, his boots clicking on the asphalt. He had that swagger ready to lay into some rich jerk speeding through his city.

"License and registration, do you have any idea how fast you were..." he started with his voice a practiced growl then he saw my face.

His words died in his throat and the color drained from his cheeks so fast I almost felt sorry for him. Recognition pure and stark flashed in his eyes. He knew exactly who I was and more importantly, what I was.

"M-Mr. Hunt," he stammered, taking a half-step back. "Sir. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't realize it was you."

I gave him a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"It's quite all right, Officer. Just in a bit of a hurry. Urgent business."

"Of course, sir. My apologies again. Please, just... drive safely." He couldn't get away from the car fast enough, practically tripping over his own feet to retreat.

I gave him a curt nod and rolled up the window. Safely. What a concept.

Minutes later, I skidded into a parking space outside one of my less-glamorous clubhouses. The engine hadn't even finished coughing before I was out of the car and striding inside.

The main hall was quiet, the usual neon buzz muted in the morning light. A few dedicated souls were still passed out on couches and from behind closed doors, I could hear the grunts and moans of early morning sex. I ignored it all, my boots echoing on the sticky floor as I headed straight for the VIP section in the back.

Damon and a few of my other men were there, a small island of grim purpose in the sea of hangovers. They straightened up as I entered.

"Boss," they chorused.

My eyes went straight to the centerpiece of the room.. a man tied to a chair.

He was a mess, bleeding from a dozen places with one eye swollen shut. The coppery scent of his blood was everywhere in the air and the moment he saw me, he started to weep.

"Mr. Hunt! Please! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again, I swear! Never!"

I didn't even look at him. I looked at Damon.

"Did he talk?"

Damon nodded, his face all business.

"He did. Sang like a canary after a little... persuasion. Marcus Douglas paid him to keep an eye on shipments coming into the west side docks."

I nodded slowly. Marcus Douglas. That worm was becoming a serious nuisance. I held my hand out without a word. Damon knew what I wanted and he placed his pistol cool and heavy into my palm.

I flipped the safety off and the click was deafening in the quiet room.

The tied-up man sobbed louder.

"Please! I have a family! My wife... she's expecting twins! Please, think of my children!"

I finally looked at him, tilting my head.

"You should have thought of them before you decided to spy on me." I raised the gun, aiming right between his eyes. He was crying, snot mixing with the blood on his face. "Don't worry. I'll send your family a box of chocolates. Maybe toss in some flowers, too."

I pulled the trigger.

The bang was loud and final. The chair rocked back with the impact and I handed the smoking gun back to Damon.

He took it but he was looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Something wrong, Boss?"

"No. Why?"

"It's just... you vowed to flay the spy alive when we catch him. Make an example out of him but this was... quick."

I shrugged, turning away from the mess.

"Things change."

But I knew why. The pull was there, an insistent annoying tug in my chest, right behind my ribs.

Alicia..

I'd woken up wanting to see her. I'd left without seeing her and now just a few hours later, it felt like I'd been away for a year. I needed to get back.. now.

The look on Damon's face said he knew it too. That he'd connected the dots between my rushed exit last night.. my weird mood this morning and this uncharacteristic mercy killing. But he was smart.. he said nothing.

I didn't bother with goodbyes. I was back in the car, pushing it even faster through the streets now, heading home. The mansion was silent when I entered. The maids scurried out of my way, sensing my mood. I took the stairs two at a time, my focus narrowing to one door at the end of the hall.

Hers.

I paused just outside, my hand on the cool wood. Something was off.. my wolf which had been pacing restlessly inside me all morning suddenly went still. Then it growled in a low vicious sound that vibrated in my own chest.

Danger...

It wasn't a external threat. It was coming from inside the room. Was she hurt? Had someone gotten to her? A cold possessive fury started to boil in my veins. I turned the knob and pushed the door open calmly.

THWACK...!

Something impossibly hard and heavy smashed into the side of my head...!