Chapter 1 - Avit
“Lev tell you the ladies are coming to the club tonight?” Pyotr asked as he strolled into my office at Drakon, the main nightclub owned by the Safin Bratva faction.
The ‘ladies’ he referred to were our sisters—Mariya and Ninel, the youngest—and our sisters-in-law, Katya, Vera, and Kira. They were married to our three older brothers: Lev, our Pakhan; Jaroslav, his underboss; and Marten, head of training and security for the Safin faction.
I didn’t look up right away. I was halfway through cross-checking a supplier list, and I hated leaving things incomplete.
My younger brother dropped onto the sofa across from my desk, a lazy grin curved his lips. His black hair was slicked back except for the spikes on top, a style that fit his reckless charm.
“I already called in extra security,” I said, glancing in his direction.
He smirked, blue eyes flashing with mischief. “I don't know why Lev told us to handle security when Marten has fifty guys downstairs, gassed up and ready to go.”
I set my pen down, aligning it parallel to the desk’s edge. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Pyotr shook his head. “I'm not. Shit might’ve cooled off after everything we went through these last three and a half years, but Marten’s not taking chances with his wife.”
Two weeks ago, Marten and Kira finally had their official wedding ceremony. Not before hell broke loose, though. She got shot by some Italian bastard and chased across town.
For more than three years, we’d been at war with Anton Ovechkin, the late grandson of Rafail Ovechkin, Pakhan of one of New York Bratva factions. Anton and his father, the late Giovanni Rinaldi of the Philadelphia Italian mafia, had made it their mission to destroy us and the Rykov faction, led by Artyom, Ninel’s husband. His younger brothers Yegor—his underboss—and Zahkar, stood with Artyom through it all, just as we stood by Lev.
During the attacks, we learned the truth about who ordered the hit on our parents. It had come from Rafail himself.
He was already dying of cancer; killing him would’ve been too merciful. So the founding families of Philadelphia and New York, along with both factions, Safin and Rykov, agreed on his punishment: no medication and permanent house arrest. If he tried to defy it, he’d be tortured for a year before being executed.
After everything we’d endured, and with the women locked down and heavily guarded for years, it wasn’t surprising that they’d convinced their husbands they deserved one night out.
“And I’m sure Artyom will bring more men, too,” Pyotr said, pulling me from my thoughts. “At this rate, there’ll probably be more guards than patrons.”
“And of course, the ladies wouldn’t want us to shut the club down. That wouldn’t give them the party vibes they’re looking for,” I said, matter-of-fact.
“They’re right. If they just wanted to dance, they could do it at home. The club is about atmosphere,” Pyotr said, dramatically leaning back with a grin.
I raised a brow. “Atmosphere or chicks?”
“For me? Both,” he laughed, before his tone turned serious. “Will you be joining us tonight?”
I shook my head. “I still have a few files I need to review.”
“Yeah, but Avit, you’ve been at it for two months straight. You need a break,” Pyotr stated.
I sighed. “Pyotr, you know how things have been. I have catching up to do. If things go off with the books, Lev will have my head.”
“He’d understand. Things have been shaky these past three years,” Pyotr exhaled. “Look, I’m not saying you should get shitfaced and bust those lame-ass dance moves of yours—”
“Hey, my moves aren’t lame….”
Pyotr smiled. “What I am saying is family is important. The ladies would love to see you. Mariya even said, despite living in the same house, she hardly sees you anymore.”
He wasn’t lying. Something about the books still felt off, but I hoped the last of the files would balance everything out. I knew there was no point arguing with Pyotr.
“Fine. I’ll come down and spend some time with everyone, then back to my desk. Happy?”
Pyotr smirked. “Very.”
His phone rang, and after a brief conversation, he pocketed it. “Duty calls. I’ll be across at BlackMark if you need me.”
Marten’s casino, BlackMark, sat right next door to Drakon.
