“I won’t kill you though,” Vasya mused, and the man exhaled in relief, running his fingers through his hair and my brows rose. Since when had the pakhan showed mercy to anyone? If there was one thing Vasya hated more than coffee, it was disloyalty. You could steal a fucking candy from him, and he’d hang your ass. Those were the sacred rules.
“Thank you, pakhan… I promise I’ll give back the money to our kaznachei in no time—”
Vasya raised his hand and the man shut up. “Radmir here will do it for me.” The warehouse grew quiet as the members looked at Vasya with their eyes wide and displeasure written all over their faces, but none of them said anything.
How could he ask this of me? Fear ran through every bone as acid filled my mouth, and I had a deep need to gag, but I couldn't do it here.
“He is too young, Vasya. Not yet nineteen,” Vladimir said, coming closer to us, as he was Vasya’s head enforcer and best friend. “The kid is not ready.” We shared a look, but I turned away to focus my attention on the wall behind him so he wouldn't read me.
No one needed to know how much I hated the fucking brotherhood, where life had placed me and essentially took away every chance of being happy.
“He is ready,” Vasya replied coldly, and extended his hand with a Beretta 92 toward me. “Kill him, boy.”
It would have happened eventually. Might as well be now.
Taking the gun from him, I removed the safety and pointed it right between Pasha’s brows. His scared, brown eyes would forever haunt me, because a person never forgot the first person he or she killed.
Before I fired, an image of my parents appeared in my mind, where they would travel around the world and help people as part of a charity organization. What would have happened to my mother if she knew that her brother, the one she ran away from, raised her son to be a killer?
She wouldn't have survived it.
But my mother was gone.
And so was Radmir, the child.
As I fired the gun and the bullet reached its target, I was born anew.
I was a fully patched-in member of the Bratva, a ruthless enforcer, who always followed the code.
Other members fired their guns in the air, celebrating my action as Vasya applauded with a huge grin on his face and put a cross on me, indicating my place in brotherhood.
The fucking metal burned my skin, but I never took it off.
Radmir, 23 years old
Hopping in the ring, I put on my boxing gloves as my eyes scanned new recruits that Vasya brought in in the last few months, as they were finally ready to train. Somehow he considered them a good match for me. I felt nothing but sadness at the injustice done to those kids and the fact that they would have to be part of this grim world for the rest of their lives.
“Names,” I said, and they shared a look, but none of them spoke. All skinny and bruised, found on different streets while leading a less than thrilling life.
Finally, one of them took a step into my direction, his brown eyes gazing at me warily, but he lifted his chin high, as if I didn't see through his false bravado. “Dominic.” His stance and voice made me think of the future pakhan. He’d be good in the job, with his leading qualities. He was scared shitless of me but tried not to show it.
A blond-haired guy followed him, clearing his throat and replying quietly, “Yuri.” His stare was calculating, as if he searched for ways to persuade me. He would do good with the thinking part of the Bratva. His brain would be wasted in the physical job.
“Vitya,” the other one said, standing firmly. Ah, yes. Finally, an enforcer in the making. He’d have to get more extensive training from me, as he’d cover the ass of someone else.
Maybe it was presumptuous of me to predict their future here, but I had my experience through all those years. I could detect the abilities and gifts from the first glance. It was one of the reasons Vasya put me in this job. While all recruits got training, education, and various challenges to meet, certain skills had to have more extensive time.
And finally, the last one joined the team, shifting from side to side while removing the strands of his fucking gray hair from his forehead. “Gleb.” He was the only one with a cheerful smile on his face, as if all this was a highly entertaining show.
Fuck.
This life would ruin him. He probably hadn’t been through hell like the previous three.
A person’s life journey could always be detected in their eyes. They held all emotions and memories, and if you looked close enough, you didn't even have to wait for people to speak.
They wore their stories in their eyes.
“Radmir. From now on, I’ll be your shadow. We will train in the morning, day, and night. I’ll teach you how to use guns and various other equipment. Also no fucking, smoking, or drinking in the first three weeks as we get you in the habit of working out. No pussies around here, and if you ever come here with a hangover, I’ll kick your ass.” They blinked several times at my fired voice but nodded quickly. “Good. Let’s start.”
