Third Person POV.

A short weary laugh escaped Peter’s lips. He gazed up at Andrei, coughing blood. Already Peter’s face had swelled up, credit to Andrei’s blows and punches.

Just beneath the laugh escaping Peter’s lips was hatred. He hated Andrei. David. And whoever else was on his way to freedom.

Getting his life roped up in the mafia’s hands wasn’t what he bargained for, but Peter was willing to fight for his freedom.

He was but a slave to the mafia. Not even a ranking Byki. Just a slave. And he was tired of being that shitty thing.

At least, back when he was in New York he had...