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"I'm Maxim Radomir," He muttered. "- and they call me BARBARIC." 


Setting:
In 1990's Russia.
Nizhny Novgorod, Moscow

Maxim, a man in his late 20's, leave Nizhny Novgorod to  search his long lost brother in Moscow, but is he there for this??? Maybe not.



The story contain violence and high stake crime that maynot be comfortable for some readers.

Also in wattpad every Friday

IN THE END: MAXIM

The story may contain violence and high stake crime that maynot be comfortable for some readers.

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One Month Later – Aristocrat's Mansion

Fifteen armed guards stood scattered across the mansion grounds, their rifles gleaming under the pale moonlight. Inside, a wealthy aristocrat sat in his lavish office, sipping from a crystal glass, his most trusted lieutenant by his side.

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the stillness.

The aristocrat shot up from his seat, eyes wide. His bodyguard drew his gun instinctively.

"I'll check it out," the guard said grimly, heading toward the living room.

He peeked through the large window and froze. One by one, every guard collapsed to the ground with a single, precise bullet. A chill ran down his spine.

He hurried back to the office, heart pounding. "Boss, we're in trouble—"

The aristocrat's body slumped over the desk, blood pooling beneath him.

"I'm Barbar," a cold voice echoed behind the bodyguard.

The man spun around, but it was too late.

A single bullet pierced his skull. He collapsed lifelessly next to his employer.

Barbar stood over them, his breathing steady, his gun still smoking. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving only death in his wake.

Igor Smertin sat in his grand study, reading the latest edition of Moscow Today. The bold headline blared:

Nikolai entered from the doorway, his posture tense.

Igor lowered the newspaper, tapping the article with a thick finger. "Read this."

"'Ruslan Login joins the ranks of Russia's five slain elites. Baran Sedovery, Avdey Tenerov, Ruhik Yadrov, Bogdan Paval, and Arkady Ghevesky — all killed within six days of each other over the past month.'"

He looked up, brows furrowed. "What do you think?" Igor asked.

Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "Whoever's behind this isn't just killing for sport. They're sending a message."

Igor's lips curled into a thin smile. "Yes. But to whom?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on Igor.

Chapter 7