CHAPTER 62: THE PAST!

Viktor stood in his dimly lit bedroom, the towel still wrapped around his waist.

"Viktor! My man!" Nathan’s voice burst through, loud and overly familiar, like they were old friends catching up after a night out. "It’s been forever! How are you holding up?"

Viktor rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "What do you want, Nathan? It’s late."

"Late? Come on, it’s barely midnight!" Nathan laughed, the sound grating on Viktor’s nerves. "Guess who’s coming back to the country? You get one guess."

Viktor sat on the edge of his bed, his jaw tight. "You’ve got twenty seconds to say something worth hearing, or I’m hanging up."

Nathan chuckled, undeterred by Viktor’s coldness. "Alright, alright, chill. I’m flying back in two days for some big test my dad’s making me take. Not thrilled about it, but I figured I’d hit you up while I’m here. You know, catch up, grab a drink, talk about old times."

Viktor’s grip on the phone tightened, his voice low. "I’m not interested, Nathan. You know that."

Nathan’s tone turned playful, almost whining. "Come on, man! I’m only here for a bit before I head back to my vacation. You can’t spare an hour for your old pal? I mean, after everything we’ve been through?"

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, his mind flashing back to the first time he’d met Nathan... a night he’d rather forget but couldn’t shake.

.

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Years ago, in a seedy club on the outskirts of the city.. Viktor, younger and leaner but no less deadly, led a team of his men through the dimly lit halls, their guns drawn. The club was a front for a rival mafia family that had been encroaching on Drago’s territory for months. Viktor had gotten word of their operations... drugs, weapons, kidnapping and worse... and tonight, he was ending it.

His boots echoed on the sticky floor as he moved from room to room, his men taking out the criminals with ruthless efficiency. Shouts and gunfire filled the air, but Viktor’s focus was razor-sharp. They’d cleared most of the club, but two of the rival family’s enforcers had slipped away, disappearing into the VIP section. Viktor followed, his personal assistant, Nico, at his side, relaying updates through an earpiece.

"Two left, boss," Nico said, his voice calm but urgent. "They’re in the VIP room at the end of the hall."

Viktor nodded, signalling his men to open the door to the VIP room. The scene inside was chaos... strippers and partygoers screamed, scrambling to hide as two blood-stained, sweaty enforcers burst in, guns in hand. The music was so loud that no one had heard the gunfire outside, and the room’s occupants were caught off guard. The enforcers, desperate, grabbed hostages... one of them was a trembling, half-naked woman in towering heels, the other a young man who looked out of place in the chaos.

Viktor’s eyes flicked to the man. He was good-looking, with sharp features and a casual confidence despite the situation. His clothes... a tailored jacket and crisp shirt... suggested money, maybe even power, but there was something else about him, a spark of defiance that caught Viktor’s attention. The enforcer holding him had a gun pressed to his temple, but the man didn’t flinch, his eyes locked on Viktor.

Viktor raised his gun, his voice steady as he spoke in Italian. "Capisci l’italiano?" Do you understand Italian?

The man tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Viktor took it as a yes. He didn’t care if the man understood or not... he wasn’t about to let a rich kid and a stripper stop him from finishing the job. He spoke again, his voice low and commanding, still in Italian. "Al tre, calpesta il piede del cattivo e abbassati." At the count of three, step on the bad guy’s foot and duck.

The man’s smirk widened, and Viktor knew he’d understood. The enforcers looked confused, their grips tightening on their hostages. The woman was sobbing, her body shaking, but the man stood steady, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s.

"Tre... due..." Viktor counted, his gun trained on the enforcer holding the man. "Uno."

The man moved fast, stomping hard on the enforcer’s foot. The criminal yelped, loosening his grip, and the man ducked just as Viktor fired. The bullet hit the enforcer square in the forehead, and he crumpled to the floor. The second enforcer was an easier shot... his hostage who was the woman, was tall but not tall enough to cover his head. Viktor fired again, and the man fell, blood pooling on the carpet.

The room erupted in screams, but Viktor was already turning to leave, his men moving to secure the area. Nico handed him the dead leader’s phone, and Viktor scrolled through it, sending videos and photos of the carnage to the rival mafia’s boss... it was a warning. As he headed for the exit, the man from the VIP room stepped in front of him, his voice bold despite the chaos.

"Who are you?" the man asked, his tone curious, almost challenging.

Viktor ignored him, brushing past as he checked the leader’s body for more evidence. But the man followed, undeterred, weaving through the club as Viktor’s men cleared out.

"Hey, I’m talking to you! That was some serious shit back there. You’re not just some random guy, are you?"

Viktor kept moving, his patience thinning. He reached his car, and Nico opened the door, but the man stepped in front of him again, blocking his way. "I’m Nathan Caldwell," he said, extending a hand. "And you are?"

Viktor’s eyes flicked to the outstretched hand, then back to Nathan’s face. "I don’t care who you are," he said, his voice cold. He pulled his gun, pressing it lightly against Nathan’s chest. "Move, or I’ll make you."

Nathan didn’t flinch, his grin only widening. "You’re interesting. I like that. I care who you are, though. Come on, give me a name."

Viktor’s jaw tightened, but something about Nathan’s persistence... his fearlessness in the face of a loaded gun... made him pause. With a grunt, he lowered the gun. "Viktor Drago. Now get out of my way."

Nathan’s eyes lit up. "Drago, huh? I’ve heard that name. Let’s stay in touch, Viktor Drago." He pulled out his phone, holding it out expectantly.

Viktor stared at him, incredulous. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Nathan said, still grinning. "Come on, man. You just saved my life. The least you can do is give me your number."

Against his better judgment, Viktor rattled off a burner number, one he used for low-priority contacts. Nathan typed it in, clearly pleased, and stepped aside. "See you around, Viktor!" he called as Viktor slid into the car and slammed the door.

As the car pulled away, Viktor muttered to Nico, "I hate that guy."

Nico chuckled. "He’s got balls, I’ll give him that."

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The memory faded, and Viktor was back in his bedroom, Nathan’s voice pulling him to the present. "Come on, Viktor, don’t be like that," Nathan was saying, his tone light but insistent. "One drink. You owe me after that night at the club, remember?"

Viktor’s jaw clenched, his patience already fraying. "I don’t owe you anything, Nathan. Why are you even coming back? Just for this test?"

Nathan sighed, the sound exaggerated. "Yeah, pretty much. My dad’s got it in his head that I need to prove myself. Maybe it’s some big test to see if I’m ’worthy’ of taking over his company or whatever. I’m hoping I fail so I can get back to my vacation in Ibiza. Have you ever been there? It’s wild."

Viktor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why are you doing the test if you don’t want to pass?"

"It’s my dad, man," Nathan said, his voice tinged with frustration. "He’s obsessed with legacy, you know? Thinks I’m gonna be the next big shot, running his empire. I’d rather be on a beach somewhere, but he’s not giving me a choice. Like he says... it’s to test my ’leadership potential’ or some bullshit."

Viktor’s lips twitched, a faint smirk forming despite himself. "Sounds like my father. I hope you pass, Nathan. Maybe it’ll make you grow up."

Nathan laughed, loud and unrestrained.

"Oh, that’s cold, man! You really think I’m that irresponsible? Come on, Viktor, I’m not that bad. I just like to have fun. You should try it sometime."

"I have enough fun," Viktor said, his tone dry. "And I don’t need you dragging me into yours."

"Fine, fine," Nathan said, his voice mock-hurt. "But I’m serious about meeting up. I’ll be in the country for a couple of days, maybe more if this test drags on. You can’t dodge me forever."

"I can try," Viktor muttered, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his patience was running thin. "Safe trip, Nathan. Don’t call me when you land."

Nathan laughed again. "You’re brutal, man. Alright, I gotta go... flight’s boarding soon. I’m going to spend more than twenty-four hours in the air, can you believe that? I’ll hit you up when I’m back. Don’t ghost me, Viktor!"

Viktor disconnected the call without another word, tossing the phone onto the bed.

"I don’t care about your test or... whatever," he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. Nathan’s voice, his persistence, his whole existence... it grated on Viktor’s nerves. The guy was a walking reminder of a night Viktor wanted to forget but Nathan wasn’t helping matters.