Prey of the Bratva (Morozov Bratva #25)

Chapter 1 - Misha

I have never feared danger. Danger is clean. Predictable. It comes with edges you can see and outcomes you can prepare for. But suffocation is different. Suffocation is slow and invisible. It settles into your lungs and pretends to be safe until you realize you can’t breathe.

And lately, the Chernykh estate had felt exactly like that.

A cage dressed as protection.

I stepped into the dining room precisely at eight in the morning, the scent of black coffee and toasted bread already thick in the air. Morning light spilled through the tall windows, cutting across the long table in pale gold strips. Everything looked calm and orderly.

Controlled.

Iosif sat at the head of the table as always, posture relaxed but presence absolute.

He didn’t need to speak to command a room.

Avgust was to his right, already halfway through his coffee, while Timofey leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone with a lazy smirk.

Clara sat beside Iosif, elegant as ever, her movements precise even when she reached for her tea.

Zhenya was on the other side of her, one leg tucked under the chair, clearly ignoring whatever silent rules existed about posture at this table.

Nothing had changed. And yet everything had.

There have been more guards outside the doors for a few weeks now. I had counted them on my way in. Cameras had also been repositioned at slightly higher angles to get wider coverage. These were subtle adjustments, but I had noticed.

“Morning,” I muttered as I settled in my designated chair.

“Misha,” Iosif nodded while I quickly began gathering food on my plate. I needed my strength today.

“Sleep well?” Avgust asked softly, his gaze flicking toward me with quiet concern.

“Well enough.”

It was a lie. I hadn’t been sleeping well for days now, but it didn’t matter.

Timofey snorted under his breath. “That’s a diplomatic answer.”

“Not everything needs to be dramatic, Timofey,” I said, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup.

“Everything benefits from being dramatic,” he countered easily. “Life would be unbearably dull otherwise.”

“That explains a lot about you,” Avgust muttered.

Zhenya laughed, bright and unrestrained. “Leave him alone. He’s right. If anything, this house could use a little more chaos.”

Avgust’s gaze snapped to her. “We have enough chaos.”

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “The suffocating kind.”

I didn’t look at her, but I felt the shift. Iosif noticed it too, his attention moving between us, quiet and calculating before it settled on me.

“You look restless,” he said.

“I am just bored.”

Timofey grinned. “Now that’s something I can both respect and agree with.”

I shrugged, letting my gaze drift across the table, deliberately casual.

“Are you planning to actually eat that, or are you just going to keep moving it around your plate?” Avgust asked, chiming in.

“I wasn’t aware you had developed such an interest in my eating habits and food patterns,” I said, my tone even. “Should I be concerned?”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Only when you start thinking too much this early in the morning.”

“Thinking is generally how people avoid making your kind of decisions, brother,” I replied, cutting into my food with precise movements.

Zhenya snorted softly into her glass, clearly entertained. “Please continue this rather entertaining sparring session. This is the most productive conversation I’ve heard all week.”

Iosif did not join in.

“You’re distracted,” he said simply. “And you have been distracted for quite a few weeks now.”

It was not a question. I already knew he would be one of the first people to take note of it. I leaned back slightly in my chair, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate ease. “I am having breakfast, Iosif. I would hope I’m allowed to think about something other than eggs.”

“That depends,” he replied, his tone measured. “On what is it that you’re thinking about so diligently these days.”

There it was. Direct, controlled, and definitely unavoidable.

I held his gaze for a moment, then let my expression soften just enough to appear thoughtful rather than guarded.

“Well, right now I was just thinking about that old dockyard,” I said lightly.

“The one at south side, near the industrial stretch.”

Avgust’s attention sharpened immediately. “Why?”

I shrugged, picking up my glass as if the answer held no weight at all.

“I came across something about it recently in one of the old files while I was cleaning Iosif’s office.

It used to handle private shipments years ago.

I was curious if it’s still operational because I sometimes go on that side to have quiet time. ”

Iosif watched me in silence for a second too long.

“Curiosity,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“You’ve never cared about shipping routes before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Zhenya leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand. “Or she’s bored,” she said. “You have practically locked all of us inside this house. I’d start researching random docks too if I were single and had nothing and no one to distract my mind.”

“That’s not what this is,” Avgust muttered.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze flicking towards him. “Then what is it?”

He did not answer immediately, but the suspicion in his eyes was clear enough.

Iosif spoke before he could. “If you want something looked into, you can just ask me rather than going around digging in dangerous territory yourself.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure there is nothing I need to know?”

I let out a quiet breath, acting as if the conversation itself was mildly exhausting. “Nothing. I was merely curious. It was not important enough to involve you.”

Everything stilled. I knew exactly what I was doing. The silence that followed was sharper this time. Avgust leaned back in his chair, watching me carefully now. Finally, both of them nodded once.

“Fine,” Iosif said. “But you don’t go near it alone again. Find some other quiet stretch at the beach to walk.”

I smiled faintly. “I wasn’t planning to go near it at all.”

It was another lie, but at least a better one. Iosif did not look convinced, but he did not push further. That, in itself, was acceptance enough. The conversation shifted after that, drifting into safer territory, but I barely registered it. My mind was already elsewhere, moving ahead.

By the time breakfast ended, my plan had already taken shape. I quickly finished the food in front of me and walked upstairs to my room. My safe haven. It felt quieter than usual when I stepped inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click that cut me off from the rest of the house.

For a moment, I stood very still.

Then I moved.

The wardrobe opened first, revealing rows of carefully curated pieces that spoke more of identity than indulgence.

Today, I bypassed most of them without hesitation.

I needed something functional. Something that would not slow me down.

Black jeans, fitted but flexible enough to move in.

A black sleeveless top that hugged my frame without restricting it, and a leather jacket, structured at the shoulders, worn just enough to soften its edges.

I dressed quickly and efficiently, my movements practiced.

When I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror, I paused for a second.

My black hair was pulled back loosely, strands framing my face in a way that softened nothing.

My blue eyes were sharp, alert, and entirely present.

I did not look like someone going out for the day, but someone going out with a purpose.

I turned away from the mirror and crossed to my desk.

The hidden compartment slid open with a quiet mechanism, revealing what the rest of the house did not know existed.

A separate laptop, stripped of anything traceable, already powered on.

Files layered beneath files, all encrypted and precise.

I sat down, fingers moving immediately. Shipping manifests appeared on the screen, dates and routes aligning in a pattern I had been tracking for months.

I quickly cross-referenced them with grainy footage from the auction.

Ilana’s face flickered briefly on the screen, and my jaw tightened, but I refused to look away. Instead, I zoomed in on the background.

There it was. The symbol.

Subtle, embedded, and rather easy to miss unless you knew exactly what you were looking for. I had seen it again three nights ago on a crate being unloaded at the docks. I immediately knew it was not a coincidence. It was my first real clue at the network.

My phone buzzed softly on the table. Sera Anton. My Right-Hand.

“Tell me you have something,” I said, pressing the phone to my ear.

“I have enough,” the voice on the other end replied. “I hear all the Chernykhs are being watched more closely than usual.”

“Iosif and Avgust have been careful since Elisse’s kidnapping. They are insisting that all of us need to stay together and stay inside.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t do this today.”

“No.”

“Misha—”

“No,” I repeated, sharper this time. “We are past the point of waiting. Tell me what you know.”

“They’ve moved another shipment. Same patterns and the same marking. The cargo has the symbol too that you first noticed in your sister-in-law’s auction video.”

“When is it arriving?”

“In a few hours at the south docks warehouse that we spotted earlier bearing the same symbols.”

Exactly where I expected. This was good. It meant I wasn’t guessing anymore.

“Who’s handling it?” I asked.

“Mid-level coordinator,” Sera said. “His name’s Elias Vance. He thinks he’s only selling routine information for some extra cash. But I am sure he knows more than he should.”

I allowed a faint smile. “Good. That means he’ll talk. I’ll meet him.”

A pause followed, quieter this time.

“You’re still going yourself?” Sera asked.