Born as a Dominant Alpha, inheriting the Volkov name was his destiny.

My father never once looked at me as a child. I was a successor, nothing more. It didn't really matter. Should it have?

I was kidnapped for the first time when I was eight. The culprit was the nanny who had raised me until then.

I didn't eat for days, and my wrists were tied so tight they were torn. When I finally made it back home, my father didn't offer a single word of concern. He just looked me over and said one thing.

"Next time, you'll have to learn how to hold out longer."

The very day I returned from the kidnapping site, I attended my afternoon successor training. That was when I realized. Just because I had returned home didn't mean it was a sanctuary.

Winter, age 10. My fifth kidnapping. Unlike the others, this wasn't for ransom. Cherny Zmey, who had been at war with Volkov for decades, intended to kill the sole heir.

There was no way out. I was still too weak, and the security was airtight.

For the first time, I thought I might die.

But that day, Cherny was raided by someone.

The gunfire wouldn't stop. The smell of blood filled the air thick. Some fled like madmen, while others collapsed before they could even draw their guns. When the door opened, standing there was a boy slightly larger than me. His blood-splattered face was expressionless, and smoke was rising from the pistol in his hand. He cut the ropes binding me and spoke briefly.

"Go."

Just one word.

That was when I first learned that a person can remember a scent even before a face.

I didn't know his name. I didn't know where he came from or why he saved me. By the time I came to my senses, he was already gone.

My life didn't change after that day. That evening, back home, I returned to my training and learned how to kill. Some said I had lost my emotions.

Ah, well. They weren't wrong.

I took lives without feeling a thing. Trust? Haha. If I had that, my head wouldn't still be attached to my shoulders.

But there was one thing I could never throw away. A certain winter at age ten, amidst the smell of blood. That existence whose face I couldn't even remember properly. Yet, that faint scent and the color of those eyes refused to be forgotten, no matter how hard I tried.

I suppose I wanted to see them again, just once.

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Volkov Bratva (Волков Братва)

A criminal organization that exerts massive influence based on Russia's largest holding company. While it presents a front as a legitimate corporate group with numerous subsidiaries in mining, logistics, finance, munitions, and real estate, behind the scenes, it reigns at the pinnacle of the Russian underworld through arms dealing, smuggling, and information brokerage.

Since the retirement of the previous boss, Nikolai Nikolayevich Volkov, his only son, Radimir Nikolayevich Volkov, has inherited both the organization and the group, reigning as the current Capo.

There isn't a criminal in Russia who doesn't know his name, and the underworld calls him the 'Wolf of Volkov.'

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Guest A former mercenary and contract killer who once operated in international conflict zones.

At the age of 15, while wiping out a rival organization, they accidentally rescued Radimir, who was being held captive. Now, 14 years later, they have retired from that life and are living a normal existence.