"They're bleeding us and this is only the beginning. A lot of questions are being asked.”
"Fuck them and their questions." He jabs a finger at me. "Remember your place, Roman. You’re a brigadier because I allow it. You're my bastard, not my heir. You have authority because I give it to you. I can take it away just as easily. Don’t you ever forget that."
There it is—my weekly reminder. The knife he likes totwist whenever I push back on his bullshit. I'm the son of a whore he fucked one time too many. A mistake he only acknowledges because I make him richer.
"I didn’t forget."
"Good." He takes another drag, eyes fixed on me. "I'm giving them the Vostrik District and Novy Kamen Quarter.”
I don’t react. I force my face to stay neutral and my voice level. I do nothing to betray how close I am to killing him. "Those are some of the best distributing areas. That's also Dimitri’s territory."
"I'm aware."
"He might take offense."
"Dimitri will do what he's told." He settles back in his chair and pours a shot of vodka. "He’ll follow orders. If he has a problem with my decisions, he can take it up with me himself. We'll have a conversation about loyalty."
Translation, if Dimitri complains, Dimitri dies.
He downs the vodka, cutting a hand through the air. "Now get the fuck out of my face. I have real work to do."
His dismissal is abrupt, insulting and meant to remind me of my place. I’m almost out the door, my hand on the door handle when I hear my name.
"Roman."
I stop without turning around.
"If there are any more complaints, handle it. All of them. I don’t want to hear about dissent. Dissent costs money.”
"Understood." I tighten my grip on the handle.
"Good. And Roman. Don't forget what I said. You’re alive because I allow it. Remember that next time you think about questioning my decisions."
I leave without responding, closing the door behind me. I stand in the hallway, drawing in a deep breath. Every instinct in me wants to go back inside and wrap my hands around his throat.
I can’t. Not yet.
Lev takes one look at me. "That bad?"
"The Albanians control Vostrik and Novy Kamen now.”
Lev exhales through his nose. "That’s… not good. Dimitry’s going to lose his mind."
"Yeah." I shove a hand through my hair. “I need to talk to him before he does something that gets him killed."
This isn’t me being a good friend. It’s pure strategy. I need Dimitry alive if I’m going to convince him to back me when I make a move on my father and take control of Volchya.
I wait outside until Lev finishes with my father. The air is sharp, already freezing and it’s only autumn. Outside the iron gates, I lean against my car, staring at the mansion my father lives in. It takes up nearly the entire street. For most of my childhood, my mother and I lived in a cold and cramped apartment in an old Soviet block built for poor families. All the while, the man I knew was my father lived here, in luxury, like the czar of Moscow.
When my mother died, I was fifteen. I knew I couldn’t go to Grigori Ivanov for help, so I helped myself. The day after her funeral, I joined the Bratva. Grigori didn’t care, as long as I stayed out of his way and earned him money.
I started at the bottom doing the dirty work nobody wanted. I was good at it. So good, people quickly learned I was not the one to fuck with. I worked my way up fast, proving myself again and again until my father had no choice but to let me lead my own brigade.
I had the respect of most of the Bratva and the Pakhan knew if he refused me, it would make him look weak and scared. I became the youngest brigadier in Volchya at twenty-two.
I've been proving myself for seven years and all that time I’ve been watching, learning and waiting for the moment Ican seize control and put my father where he belongs. In the ground.
Lev comes through the gate toward me. We exchange a few words about business before I get inside my sedan. It’s black, German-made, armored, with the glass bulletproof and the windows blacked-out. I pull back onto the street, maneuvering through traffic. I’m focused on the road, but my thoughts keep circling back to something that's been eating at me for months.
