Embracing the Dark Side (Morozov Mafia #2)

41. Want

Chapter forty-one

Want

Adrik hadn’t been this sober since his brother died, and he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Four days without any drugs since Jolie left. The coffee barely hit him, and the dull conversation was like a relaxing hum that could put the most hyper to sleep. Unfortunately, it was a conversation he needed to listen to. Adrik shifted, sitting straighter and blinking with such force that it became noticeable.

“Are we boring you?”

The eyes of everyone at the table turned to him.

Not to be made a fool, Adrik replied, “Yes.” He enjoyed the way they twittered, upset. He put his coffee mug on the table. “Words are pointless, especially said by those who made promises and then failed to pull through.”

“Adrik,” Uncle Yefim hissed beside him. “We have forgiven the past. It is time now to move forward.”

“Have we forgiven?” Adrik held a hand out behind him, and Filip quickly put a joint in his palm. As he put it between his lips, Filip lit it, and Adrik sucked in, holding it, watching the tip burn. In a room full of family that hadn’t come through when Vincent and Katia took over his rule, Adrik didn’t feel much like compromising. They were here because they feared more retribution. Three gangs have been wiped out of existence. Turf wars have produced new territory. Polk Jail was now in the palm of his hand, with the fall of the Warden. The man had been so sure he couldn’t be persuaded, but he should have hidden his children better. Everyone had their price. And Adrik was skilled in finding it.

He had done the impossible, all in the span of eleven days.

Eleven days since he got out of jail, and he wasn’t done starting fires.

Any fool could see that Adrik was not a king to be forgotten. But hindsight did not bring forgiveness. They still needed to pay for their sins. Adrik was simply tired of killing. Now, he wanted to find new ways to torture. Sitting here with five mafia families was a good way to do it. They all waited with bated breath.

Yefim was trying to make peace. But Adrik didn’t want it.

“My nephew has had a rough time. We are very much looking forward to the offers to see how we can become more helpful to each other.”

“You blame us,” Oleg, the leader of the Moskal family, pointed out. “But it was your father that failed to come through.”

There was a wave of movement. Though the families all agreed on this point, they hadn’t the audacity to say it to Adrik’s face and weren’t about to. But Adrik didn't disagree. For the first time, his father did fail, and Adrik was a little resentful toward the old man.

“I’m curious what you plan to do with the Stephanovs. A war with them would be stupid. Taking down that baby cartel is nothing in comparison and not a prideful venture, to be sure. Any one of us could wipe out an ant pile with the bottom of our foot, but we do not congratulate ourselves for it.”

“Am I congratulating myself?” Adrik snorted. “I didn’t think I had such time, with burying my father and brother and punishing all who failed me.” He looked at Yefim for an answer, but the man shrugged. “My plans with the Stephanovs are none of your business, and I will remind you, just this once. Do not talk to me like you speak to your son. Unless, of course, you are ready for him to take over.”

Oleg huffed and sat back, sneering at him. Oleg’s son stood behind him and thought it was humorous at least. He bowed his head to hide his smile. Someone else began to speak, but Oleg cut them off. “Then, will you share with us your plans with the Utkins? They have overtaken much of the Stephanov empire. Boris handed him nearly every gang from the harbor to Naples. How should we stand against them in their rampant attempt to expand?”

Adrik knew Boris had done something, but to partner with the Utkins was an odd thing to do. As far as he knew they were enemies. What changed between them?

Yefim went to speak, but Adrik interrupted. “The Utkins want what’s mine,” he revealed, and the panic was humorous. “They have been a shadow on my family for years. My father used to say wherever there is a Morozov, there is an Utkins. But Fedor is weak and has always been.”

“He is the biggest threat right now. How do you see him as weak?”

“He is afraid of my family. It is the only reason they have not attacked us in the past. They are hyenas, only picking at corpses in the dead of night. But I am back now. And like any nocturnal animal, they hide when the sun is out.” Adrik could see this wasn’t enough and continued. “Coincidentally, his two sons were caught in my territory, in a pathetic attempt to recruit. They are being well-treated in a house on the beach. This will keep him from attacking while I finish my expansion to the east.” Adrik sat back, smoke flowing through his nose. “To answer your question, how are you to stand against him? It is very simple. You do it or die. You will sacrifice yourselves, your wives, your daughters, your sons, your cars, whatever you must do, because there will be no second chances. And I assure you, death by Fedor Utkins is a better death than by me.”

Oleg was unimpressed. These old men who betted on the victors of Vietnam as they watched from their penthouses had no care for death threats. “And what do we get in return?”

“Apart from your life?”

Oleg sneered and glanced at the other old men in the area. Adrik was the youngest leader among them. Their sons sat quietly in the back, watching and learning, while Adrik sat at the table with men twice, three times his age. In their eyes, his family had failed them. Yakov had lost the battle. And they looked at Adrik as an inexperienced, rage-driven fool who was beaten by his wife. Adrik had done everything he could to change their opinion of him, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Instead, they whispered, trying to figure out how he had taken back ownership of his kingdom so quickly and competently. They assumed he had help, which put Yefim as the real leader they should be frightened of and made Adrik an overstepping, cocky prick.

“What do you want?” Adrik conceded, knowing there was always a give-and-take to these ‘compromises.’ If he didn’t listen to their needs, they would likely go behind his back and meet with the Utkins.

“I have a daughter, and you need an heir.”

Adrik lowered his blunt to the ashtray, rolling it to put it out slowly. “I have an heir.”

“You have a daughter.” Oleg chuckled. “You do not have an heir.”

Adrik sat back and met Oleg’s eyes. Little did he know, Adrik was thinking of how to kill him. Men like Oleg were part of his father’s reign, but Adrik wanted to develop a new world. One where his daughter could be a fucking boss, and these small-dick men would swivel at her feet.

Oleg continued, “A binding contract with my daughter would give you ninety percent of my resources, and I would give you fifty percent of my annual income for the next five years or until she produces you a son. Whichever comes first.” Oleg sat smug, waiting with a pleased smile.

The wave that overtook the room was one of shock. No one offered that much in a contract. Instead of lowballing, Oleg had taken out anyone else in the competition, unable to meet such a high bid.

Yefim tried to remain stoic, but he slapped Adrik on the shoulder, squeezing as he took a sip of his tea. The offer was grand and could help bring all the power back to the Morozovs. Adrik could see the benefits roll across his brain like the reading of a will. The amount of money alone would allow him to invest in the airport he’s been trying to build since he bought land four months ago.

Adrik stood, buttoning his jacket. “I leave for Russia in an hour and leave my uncle in charge. If all is well by the time I return, I will consider your proposal.”

“Adrik,” Yefim hissed, reaching for his hand .

But Adrik turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t wait for Filip to open any doors; Adrik wanted to get far away from that room. He took the keys and dived into the driver’s seat, leaving his guards behind as he raced through the city streets.

Logic told him to take that proposal. There were too many rewards with little risk. And technically, there wasn’t a reason to say no. He did need a wife. And one that knew mafia life, knew her place, knew what was expected of her, and who would do her duty with zero rebellious qualities would be a great change of pace. He wouldn’t make the mistake he had made with Katia. He wouldn’t love her. He wouldn’t let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. He’d control her. He’d make her happy enough to keep her quiet but scared enough to never want for more. She’d stay out of his business. She’d never make him feel guilty for being a man in the Mafia. She’d keep her tears and her weaknesses, and he’d never hear one fucking sob.

Adrik clenched the steering wheel. He had no reason to say no.

Expect one fucking distraction that wouldn’t get out of his head.

Jolie had left a scar on his brain, and she was all he could see. The way she ran from him, the way she screamed, the disgust in her eyes, and the hate in her words—all of it was a flashing light, blinding him.

Adrik slapped a hand on the steering wheel. It was hatred for her and hatred for himself, all intermixing into a giant ball that sat on his chest making breathing painful. He despised her for only seeing the good in him and he despised himself for not being the good she deserved .

Now, there was regret on top of everything else. He lost her, like he always knew he would.

Adrik was tired of losing. He needed a fucking break. He needed a fucking win.

It was time to go to Russia. Staying here caused him to relive every moment with Alexei, Gil, Yakov, and Helina—four people who had left his life in the last three months—four people who worked as his arms, legs, heart, and brain. How could anyone expect him to be normal? How could his mother think there was anything left of him at all? How could Jolie believe he could remain sober and mentally and emotionally available?

Distancing himself was the only solution. Russia would rehabilitate him. His daughter, the only one of the four missing pieces that he could actually get back, was now the top priority. Getting her back and killing Katia would restore the peace in his life. It had been the most obvious answer and, yet had gone unseen for too long because anger had consumed him. Now, he would make up for his mistake.

Adrik stopped at a red light. Home was straight ahead, only four more miles. But above him was a green sign for Orlando, pointing left. The quiet reverberated in his ears, and he could hear the thumping of his heart increase every passing second he stared at it. He willed his hand still, willed his foot frozen. His fingers played with the ring at his neck, a constant reminder of his brother, and in the harsh silence, Alexei’s voice echoed.

If he went back home to an empty house, to an empty bed, the desire to snort a dime of snow would be overwhelming. He’d lose the battle he’s been fighting. Even with the mixture of morphine, weed, an antidepressant, and anti-addiction medication, he couldn’t completely cut off his fall. It was there, on the back of his tongue, begging for more. It would overtake him and destroy him slowly from the inside out, making death desirable.

A text message pulled him from his thoughts, and he took out his phone. Uncle Yefim had sent him a subtle warning. ‘Marriage to Marsha Moskal will bring our family back to where it was. You have an obligation, and I hope you know that. Have a successful trip. When you get back, we will finalize the contract.’

In such short words, Adrik’s future was planned. A wife he didn’t know, a marriage that would be meaningless and loveless, and kids that would be more an obligation than a want. He would walk in his father’s shoes like Yakov had been planning since he took Alexei’s spot. The world would remain the same, and Helina would be offered as a piece of property to gain him more allies that he despised. He could have everything he needed, and life would be easy.

But it wouldn’t be what he wanted.

Adrik didn’t wait for a green light to turn.