So here is a small excerpt on the new story I have started. I can't even call this a chapter, because that's how small it is. The scene I wrote is short and will make you all think one way, which will be completely different from what is going to end up happening in the story.

I always try to create stories that are completely unlike ones you have already read. Though this story will have romance, it will be mostly centered around drama, suspense, and familial ties.

I am writing the story mostly for myself so there will be times it'll be confusing, but that confusion will be cleared up eventually.I am not going to update this story until I get more chapters of "Her Guardian" and "She-Wolf" out, but if you thought those two stories were an emotional rollercoaster, you haven't seen anything yet lol

Everything in italics is a flashback! Anyway, I had this short excerpt saved for the longest time and thought I might as well put it out. So here it is, enjoy :)

(Sidenote: With Netflix looking for a new book series to adapt, this is a perfect time to trend #PickUpVampireAcademy and you also need to tag Netflix and NetflixLife. How: Tweet #PickUpVampireAcademy at 1:30 pm EST as much as you can. Don't forget to tag netflix and netflixlifee. Time: December 1st, 01:30 PM EST)

Disclaimer- All characters belong to Richelle Mead.

Dimitri POV

I splashed another handful of cold water on my face, trying to stall for some more time. I had been in this bathroom for 40 minutes now, about as long as the ceremony was going on just outside.

The commencement speaker's booming voice could clearly be heard through the bathroom walls, congratulating the new group of students for graduating the police academy.

I was one of those students. I had completed four grueling years, remaining the top student all through out. It had been my dream to be apart of the organized crime unit, but that had all been taken away from me last week.

I was called into the office of the head of the department, Hans Croft. To say I was nervous was putting it lightly.

All throughout my schooling, I dreamt of graduating and joining Croft's team as one of the leading officers. I had been the top student, so I was hoping this unexpected call to his office would be good news for the future.
I had been wrong.

"Come in," Han's strong German accent spoke after I knocked on his office door.

I made my way over to his desk and remained standing.

"You wanted to see me, Sir."

"Yes, please take a seat," he said. He had a file in his hands that he seemed to have most of his attention. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," I told him truthfully.

"Why? What do you think this meeting is going to be about?"

I shrugged and rubbed my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans. "No idea, Sir."

"I think you do," he said, smiling a little. "You're just being humble."

Hans put the file down on his desk and leaned forward, looking more intimidating than before.

"You're the top of your class and the chief of the Organized Crime unit, aka me, just called you into his office. If I were you, I'd be happy I'm guaranteed the job of my dreams."

"That's what I'm hoping for, Sir."

Hans nodded and sat down in his chair.

"Let's play a game, Dimitri Belikov. I'm going to tell you about a person and you're going to guess who it is."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but nodded anyway. Hans picked up the file he had been reading earlier, once again.
He flipped it open and began reading off of whatever was written inside.

"11 murders, 22 incidences of assault with a deadly weapon, a member of the most deadly crime syndicate that I have ever encountered," Hans paused to look at me, though he already had all of my attention. "I'm talking about the right hand man of mafia leader, Ibrahim Mazur."

Before I had the chance to react, Hans threw the file that had been in his hand, towards me on the desk. Staring back at me was a picture of middle-aged man I hoped to forget but never would. The familiar green eyes, ones I hadn't seen since I was 6 years old were unmistakable.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, realizing this meeting was going to end up being the complete opposite of what I had been hoping for.

"My father," I muttered. I opened my eyes and looked at Han's. "That's my father, Randall Ivashkov."

Hans nodded as if he had been waiting for the paternal confirmation.

"I have nothing to do with him or his dirty work. He doesn't exist for me," I told Hans truthfully. The last time I had seen my father had been during the first few months of his imprisonment, 20 years ago.

"Really?" Hans asked and I nodded my head.

He picked up another, even thicker file by the edge of his desk. After opening up to the first page, he threw it on top of the other file for me to see.

"Do you know him?" he asked, referring to the picture of the man.

The man in this picture was tall, tan, with a brightly colored tailored suit and expensive cashmere sweater hanging from his shoulders. He had a goatee and gold, hoop earrings, making him look a lot like a mobster pirate.

"Ibrahim Mazur," I answered. Han's stood from his chair once again and began to walk back and forth, keeping me on edge.

"The infamous Ibrahim Mazur, or as people like to call him, Abe The Butcher. The man Mafioso for whom your father was a hetman." Han's walked around his desk and stood directly in front of me.

"Your father was very loyal to Abe. When he went to prison, he didn't speak a word on him. Your father didn't give the authorities Abe's name, even though it cost him life imprisonment. Will you do the same?"

My head snapped up so quickly, I'm surprised I didn't break my neck.

This is why I had been called in here. It wasn't for a job well done or a potential job offer. No, it was to see where my loyalties lied; with Mazur or with the Organized Crime Unit.

"When you become a cop, are you going to play both sides, offering up your loyalty to Abe just like your father did."

"Absolutely not," I said incredulously.

"You're not fooling anyone Belikov."

I gritted my teeth in anger, but kept my voice leveled.

"This isn't information that I've tried to keep a secret. My father's name has been in my file since I joined the academy."

Hans slammed his hand on the table, stopping whatever it was that I was going to say next.

"That is not what we're talking about. We're talking about you trying to infiltrate the police force."

What the hell did he mean, infiltrate?

"Aren't you being unfair, Sir. The crimes of my father have nothing to do with me."

"They have everything to do with you. Have you ever heard of the saying, 'Don't throw the baby out with the bath water.' Well, that's not something I believe in. With that being said, I am kicking you out of the police academy."

I was at a loss for words, and the anger that I had been trying to hold down was beginning to boil over. I stood up slowly from my seat, towering over Hans once I straightened myself out.

"You're kicking me out?" I asked in disbelief. "Why did you wait four years to tell me this? Why did you wait a week before graduation to tell me this?" I gritted out. "You shouldn't have accepted me to begin with."

"I've told you my reasoning," he said so calmly, pissing me off even more.

"You said I'm kicked out, how can I just accept that?"

"Watch who you're talking to."

I slammed my hands on the desk, mimicking the same stance Hans had.

"What wrong have I done apart from being the son of a murderer? I belong to no one. I'm not here to serve the mafia. Fuck Ibrahim! I came here to become a police officer, nothing more, nothing less."

"Look at you," Hans said, gesturing to my raging form. "You're boiling with anger."

Hans sat back in his chair, showing me he was done with this conversation.

"This doesn't end here," I muttered to him, before turning around and walking away.

Bringing myself back to the present, I thought about what I was going to do next.

This was going to kill my mother. I was all she had left in her life.

After the disappearance of my little brother and the imprisonment of my father 20 years ago, she and I were left alone with one another. She devoted all of her time and energy on me, and I had made her proud. I did good by her.

But now that was all going to change.

I took the wallet out of my back pocket and slid the old photograph out. The picture had been taken right after my sixth birthday, at the park. After all my friends had left, my little brother jumped on to my back and my mother had snapped the picture. We weren't even looking at the camera. No, our attention was solely on each other, just like it had always been.

That was the last picture we had together, before he was taken from us without a trace.

He had been the missing piece inside of me.

"I'm doing this for you Ivan," I whispered, before sliding the picture into the wallet, and putting it back into my pocket.

After 20 years, I had the first ever lead to my missing brother and there was one thing I needed to do before I could start my search.

Something that was going to cost me all of the hard work I had done, and more importantly, my mother's trust.

I took out the loaded gun that had been in the waistband of my jeans, cocking it once.

"You can do this Dimka," I told myself one last time.

With the gun steady by my side, I walked out of the bathroom and went straight towards ground-level stage in front of the graduating class of new police officers.

Before anyone had the chance to react, I lifted my gun and steadied it on the person sitting center stage.

I aimed it at Hans Croft.