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The music of the club pounded loudly in his ears and the accompanying bass vibrated so strongly even the foundations shook. The air was permeated with a suffocating cocktail of scents - alpha, beta, and omega alike - and the smoke of the cigarettes smoked by the uncaring patrons that danced and drank without a second thought.
Yuuri Katsuki almost envied them. Envied how carefree they could be. How they could allow themselves to relax and, for at least one evening, forgot about their lives and let go. But as much as he wanted to join the dancers on the floor or the customers at the bar and let business take care of itself, Yuuri made his way past the dance floor and through the smoke towards the back of the club.
Tucked in an obscure corner of club, away from the lights and music and smoke, was a darkened hallway leading to the private VIP rooms. Reserved for those who either want a private, more secluded night out with friends or that want to hide their illegal or unsavory activities from the view of the normal people outside.
Yuuri counted the doors carefully and slipped effortlessly into the fifth room on the right.
The client - an alpha enforcer for the St. Petersburg Bratva by the name of Alexi Rozovsky - was already there, pacing back and forth in the tiny room and filling it with the rancid, rotting-meat smell of worried alpha. Yuuri nearly gagged when the scent hit his nose, and his inner omega was instantly unimpressed by the man in front of him. His black hair was greasy and falling onto his face, his movements were clunky and jagged, and his eyes seemed to burn with either hatred or disgust. He was the perfect picture of a brooding, bulking, misogynistic alpha who assumed he was better than those around him.
Before Yuuri could say a word, the man’s attention snapped to him. “Eros?”
He nodded, closing the door firmly behind him as he did.
“Finally,” he snarled, looking more hostile than the worried he’d just been projecting. “You’re late.”
The omega made a show of glancing at the watch on his wrist, though he knew exactly what it would say. He clicked his tongue, raised an eyebrow, and stared back at the man, “I’m five minutes early.”
The man gave a frustrated growl and a ‘whatever’ underneath his breath.
“Nervous?” Yuuri asked coyly, trying not to let the teasing humor come across in his voice, “First time?”
The alpha remained silent, though Yuuri could practically sense the anger boiling beneath his skin.
“I would’ve thought a Bratva enforcer would be used to killing people. Why hire me?”
“This isn’t someone I can just kill,” Alexi finally answered with a roll of his eyes.
Yuuri’s annoyance at the man’s impotence overpowered his curiosity.
“Ever heard of Viktor Nikiforov?”
Oh, Yuuri thought, now fully amused. Incompetent and stupid. This’ll be fun.
“The pakhan? Of course I have.”
Yuuri’s client reached behind him for a black briefcase.
“He’s hosting a party tomorrow night,” he explained, handing the case over to Yuuri. “Get rid of him and you’ll get the other half afterwards.”
Yuuri flashed the man a sharp smile, “Consider it done.”
-
Yuuri chose an elegant, blood-red dress for Viktor Nikiforov’s party. It was both sleeveless and backless, showing off the expanse of Yuuri’s back, with a slit running up the leg to mid-thigh. In the light, the black jewels, speckled along the design of the dress, perfectly accentuated each move and curve he had. At the top, it was clenched with a collar around his throat, wrapping his neck in the brilliant red color. It was one of Yuuri’s favorite dresses.
Accompanying the dress, Yuuri wore black heels and red lipstick, dolling himself up for what was sure to be an interesting night.
The party was much calmer than the club had been, which settled something in Yuuri.
It was held in Nikiforov’s mansion estate, rumored to have been owned by Czars long before, in the large ballroom. The ceilings above them were carved with swirling, elegant patterns and highlighted in shimmering gold. Several chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, drooping with hundreds of crystals that bounced bright light around the room. Below them, the floor was laid with white marble and decorated with black cracks, which crawled its way up the columns and to the ceiling.
The partygoers were all clad in fanciful suits and flowing dresses, sipping on expensive wine and champagne as they chattered about and moved from group to group. Although the party itself was calmer, Yuuri still found himself bored and on edge. He’d already downed two flutes of champagne and could feel the heat in his cheeks already. He had to cut himself off, too early for his liking, because of it.
Since drinking was unfortunately off the table, he took to scanning the crowd, looking for Viktor Nikiforov. It hadn’t taken him long to decide how to take the man out. Yuuri had long given up on seducing his targets, especially if he could wait and get them alone, but Nikiforov was special. The omega had a feeling Nikiforov would fall right into his trap.
Dodging waiters and over eager party guests, Yuuri prowled along the edges of the party, sticking close to the walls and scanning the crowd meticulously. It was in these moments Yuuri felt the most power, simply observing those who didn’t know they were being observed. It was the one similarity the party had to the club.
It didn’t take a long time to find Viktor Nikiforov.
The distinctive silver hair of the alpha stood out starkly against the rest, shining like a guiding beacon in the middle of a storm. He had firmly placed himself in the center of the room, with a glass of champagne balanced in his hand. The suit he wore was a clear reflection of who he was. The fabric was expensive and the cut custom, highlighting each perfect curve and line on his body. Even his silver hair was precariously fixed, with the fringe that normally fell into his eyes slicked back. He was certainly every inch of both pakhan and alpha.
Yuuri’s eyes shifted to the other man talking to Nikiforov and wasn’t at all surprised to find a familiar face. Alexi Rozovsky.
The enforcer looked considerably more well-groomed than he had the night before, but no more of an alpha. If anything, it infuriated Yuuri more to seem him, so much so that his inner omega prickled once again. Perhaps the most infuriating part about it was that the man looked considerably at ease. He had plastered on a fake smile and had made an attempt to look at comfortable around the man he had placed a hit on.
Viktor Nikiforov had to be blind not to see it.
Finally detaching himself from the wall, Yuuri weaved his way through the crowd, waving off offers of more champagne from passing waiters, and made his way towards the two alphas. When he approached, Viktor’s back was turned to him, giving Yuuri a perfect view of the alpha’s butt. That tuxedo did wonders for him.
Over Viktor’s shoulder, Yuuri could see Alexi’s eyes widen in recognition.
Before he could stumble his way through an excuse to leave, Yuuri stepped into the circle of conversation, slipping his arm firmly into Viktor’s waiting one.
The shock on Alexi’s face was extremely worth it.
“Yuuri!” Viktor greeted immediately, his face brightening at Yuuri’s presence. The smile on his face sent warm bursts through his chest.
“Hello, darling,” Yuuri said back, placing a kiss on Viktor’s cheek. He glanced at Alexi out of the corner of his eye - the expression on his face was something that would bring Yuuri joy for many years.
Viktor turned to the other alpha, “Mr. Rozovsky, this is my mate, Yuuri Katsuki.”
“Oh, we’ve met,” the omega reassured his husband, giving Alexi a smug smirk. “He hired me to kill you.”
To the untrained eye, it almost looked as if Viktor’s expression hadn’t changed at all, but Yuuri could see how his expression, just for a moment, flickered to a dark, cold fury before returning to a more schooled expression. “Ah, I see.”
There was a moment of deadly silence, in which Yuuri took immense pleasure in watching all of the blood drain from Alexi Rozovsky’s face.
“Well, we can't have that,” Viktor eventually said, flashing the other alpha a sickly-sweet smile. “Follow me, Mr. Rozovsky.”
The man sputtered in protest, but quickly quieted when Yuuri flashed the gun holstered on his thigh. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
Together the trio slipped away from the party unnoticed and entered Viktor’s office, just a lavish as the rest of the house. The furniture was all handcrafted, high end leather and the walls were lined with large cedar bookcases holding a vast array of books. The desk, which sat in front of a grand, bulletproof window, was intricately carved cedar desk, on which sat various office supplies Viktor used in the mundane parts of his job as pakhan.
“Don’t bother sitting down, Mr. Rozovsky, I’m going to make this quick.”
Without needing to be told, Yuuri pulled his gun from his holster and gave it to his husband.
“I don’t like being betrayed. Especially when those people are stupid enough to hire my own husband to do so.”
“Mr. Nikiforov-”
Whatever the man was going to say was cut off by the cocking of the gun.
“Please, give me another chance. I promise-”
The last thing Alexi Rozovsky saw was the barrel flash of Yuuri Katsuki’s gun in the hands of Viktor Nikiforov.
Wordlessly, and without prompt, Yuuri looped his arm back into his husbands for the second time that evening. The couple returned to the party, as if nothing had happened at all.