Page 77 of Prey of the Bratva

“I thought you admired that.”

“I do,” he replied. “Up to a point.”

He straightened slightly, stepping back, his expression settling into something colder.

“This time,” he added, “you have miscalculated.”

Maybe. Maybe I had. But that didn’t mean this was over. It just meant that the board had changed. Sidorov turned towards the door, already done with the conversation, already satisfied with whatever he thought he had accomplished here.

“Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll need it.”

“For what?” I asked.

He paused at the door, glancing back once. “For what comes next.”

The door opened, heavy and reinforced, and then closed again with a solid, echoing finality. The lock was engaged, and I heard two sets of footsteps exiting. They paused but continued moving while I waited and counted the seconds in my head. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. And I knew he was finally gone, which only brought back the silence. Real silence this time. I didn’t move or react immediately and let the stillness settle again, as my breathing evened out completely before I started.

I began testing the restraints, properly this time, with complete tension and pressure. The metal bit into my wrists, unyielding, secured too tightly to slip through brute force alone. Ankles were the same, and even the chair was bolted in place.

Fine.

My gaze swept the room again, slower now, more deliberate. There was just one door and no visible windows, andthe overhead light was the single source of light and had exposed wiring. There were cameras at the top right corner with the angle slightly downward. I sensed there were no blind spots, but the placement was not perfect either.

Good.

I shifted slightly in the chair, testing range of motion, mapping out what I could reach and what I couldn’t. The pipes along the wall were too far, and the floor was clear. There were no loose objects within immediate range. Everything was clean. Too clean. I leaned my head back slightly, closing my eyes for a brief second but not to rest. To think. I was in Kliment’s territory, and I was sure he was coming.

Chapter 22 - Kliment

I stepped onto Russian soil with a single, unshakable certainty. Someone had taken what was mine, and Saint Petersburg was about to bleed for it. The cold hit first. It always did here. Not the kind that stung your skin for a moment and passed, but the kind that had already settled inside my heart. I had spent all my life here, so the cold no longer mattered to me. Especially right now, when I have never felt more like ice. The air carried memory with it. I could practically smell old power, old violence, and old loyalties that had been carved in blood and fear.

For most men, this city was history.

For me, it was unfinished business.

I had left it a complete man, ready to venture into the unknown. But the city had not taken it well and had once again called me to it, and this time, I was going to make sure that everyone knew Kliment Romanov was back. And Kliment Romanov had returned to take back what was rightfully his. No matter what lengths I had to go to in order to achieve that. The private terminal had been secured before we landed. Viktor stepped off the jet first, scanning with the same quiet precision that had made him indispensable. Behind him, Romanov and Chernykh men moved in disciplined silence, already blending into preassigned roles. There was no chaos and hesitation.

We did not arrive like invaders, but instead, we arrived like something inevitable.

“The perimeter is clean, boss,” Viktor said, his voice low as I stepped down onto the tarmac. “First wave is already in position, and the safe houses have been secured. We are all set to begin operations here and look for Misha.”

I nodded once, my gaze sweeping the horizon.

“Has everyone relevant been contacted and brought back?” I asked.

“Yes, everyone has been reactivated,” he replied. “To be honest, they came back faster than I could have expected, as if they were waiting for a call from you.”

Of course they were. I had not ruled this city gently, and men still remembered what I was and who I was. And more importantly, they remembered what happened when I was crossed. We moved without delay since we definitely had no time to waste. Misha was already here, and I simply needed to get to her. Black vehicles waited just beyond the terminal, their engines running. There were no insignias and no traceable plates because I wanted things to be clean. If Volkov and Sidorov found out I was back, they would go to any lengths to keep Misha away from me.

I couldn’t risk that happening.

By the time I slid into the back seat, my phone was already buzzing.

I answered without looking at the number. “Romanov speaking.”

“Everyone in the old networks has heard that you are back.” The voice on the other end was older and careful. It was respectful in a way that could never be faked. That was what I liked about Russia. Hierarchies mattered, and positions that were established once remained forever. Too many people here had sworn their loyalties to me, and I knew their return only depended on one call from my end.

“They always do,” I said.