17. Sasha
SASHA
M orozov is a big name around here.
When I chose to come to New York, I was fully aware that they’re an essential part of the Bratva. I just didn’t know how essential.
Turns out, they’re pillars of the entire organization and hold a prestigious position of power at the top. The demonstration of said power manifests itself in the sheer number of people who are attending the funeral, including the Pakhan.
It’s been three days since Roman Morozov’s death, and during this time of ‘grief,’ Kirill has been going out to meet people and making phone calls.
His father hadn’t yet been buried and he was already rekindling old relationships and basically crowning himself as the new leader.
I’ve been standing in the shadows while Kirill and his family members accept condolences. All except for Karina.
I saw her dressed in a black dress earlier, and her mother attempted to force her to come downstairs, but the girl literally ran to her room and locked the door.
No one has seen her since, and I don’t think anyone here cares about her absence. Maybe they’re used to this behavior from her.
Back to the current moment. I stand on the periphery of the professionally decorated garden as part of security. If it weren’t for the black and white velvet tablecloths and the image of the deceased man, one would think this was a wedding reception.
The part that makes me stop and stare isn’t the number of people with a dangerous aura in one place. It’s also not the one-hundred-eighty-degree change in both Yulia’s and Konstantin’s behavior in public compared to their viciousness in private.
It’s how utterly composed Kirill is through the whole thing.
Every now and then, I can’t help ogling him. In my defense, I don’t mean to, and I usually stop when I notice I’ve been looking for too long, but it’s a compulsion I can’t put an end to.
Maybe I am taking my bodyguard role way too seriously, and I’m watching him this frequently to be able to protect him.
At least, that’s what I tell myself every time my eyes stray in his direction. On the other end of the garden, he stands with a few higher-ups from the Bratva, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a drink.
He’s in a dashing black suit, tie, and shoes, looking straight out of a fashion show. We’re all wearing black suits, but he’s the only one who makes it appear regal. The black-framed glasses add a sense of powerful intelligence to his sharp features.
On anyone else, those glasses would look nerdy, but on Kirill, there’s something entirely sinister about them. It’s his expression, I realize. There’s an overpowering control lurking beneath his calm facade. A dangerous edge that’s pushing him to accomplish more, no matter what price he has to pay.
He had already lost half of his men, and even that didn’t stop him.
Probably nothing ever will.
A finger taps my shoulder, and when I look to the side, Maksim pokes my cheek with his forefinger and then grins, appearing proud of himself.
“Aren’t you tired, Sasha? You should go rest for a bit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t be saying the that when you’re deathly exhausted by the end of the day. And it’s going to be a looong day.”
“Because of the funeral?”
“Because of what happens after the funeral.” He juts his chin in the direction of Yulia and Konstantin, who are also in their own small circle with the mafia leaders. “Those two won’t stop until they have power over the Morozov family, and guess who’s in their way.”
“Kirill?”
“Correct. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent those snipers to the last mission we went on, just to get rid of him. His recent return that’s coincided with the old boss’s death is the worst disaster that could’ve befallen them.”
“But wasn’t he named the heir in his father’s will?” The lawyer was ushered here the day of Roman Morozov’s death, and he read the will to the family.
Kirill is to inherit ninety percent of his father’s assets—that includes countless properties, cars, a plane, and a multi-billion-dollar stock fortune.
Karina gets ten percent on the condition that she signs away her votes to Kirill and assigns him as her proxy.
In fact, considering her ‘challenged’ state, Kirill is named as her guardian and that gives him the authority to not only have control over her money but also to throw her in any mental institute if he chooses to.
Konstantin and Yulia only got one thing—permission to live in the house with Kirill and only if, no surprise, they don’t challenge his authority.
Needless to say, his brother threw a fit and threatened to sue. However, Yulia, who didn’t look surprised in the least, just grabbed him, and they left together.
Maksim hums thoughtfully. “On paper, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“The will means nothing if he can’t prove himself in the real world.
In other words, he has to snatch back the power Konstantin and Yulia have been building during all the years he was gone.
Yes, Boss had his father’s support, but not everyone will blindly follow his will.
It’s a psychological game that’s a lot harder than it looks. ”
I inch closer to my friend. “Whose support does he need?”
“The main players’, of course. First of all, the Pakhan.
” He points at an old man with whitening hair and a calm, wise demeanor.
“Sergei Sokolov, head of the Bratva ever since his brother died. He’s kind of laid-back, but he’s strict and has old ways.
Second of all, his similarly old-fashioned friends are the two next to him.
Igor.” Maksim juts his chin in the direction of the strongly-built older man.
He looks like a wrestler but has a white beard, hair, and a few wrinkles around his eyes.
“That’s the first of the four kings. His household is self-sufficient and shrouded in mystery, but he’s been close to the current and previous Pakhans.
In fact, he’s known them since they were young, so anything he says or recommends will have a major impact on Sergei’s decision-making process. ”
My gaze strays to the third in the circle. He looks as old as the rest, but he’s leaner and has a somewhat sleazy businessman appearance and an erect posture that looks impenetrable.
“That, my friend, is Mikhail, the second of the four kings. He’s stuck in the eighties, has the worst temper of the three, and is prone to be a wild card, depending on his mood.
I honestly think the only reason he’s still in power is because of his closeness to the Pakhan and some decent offspring who know how to handle business. He certainly doesn’t most of the time.”
“So, in short, if Kirill gets the approval of Igor and Mikhail, he’ll take his father’s place?”
“Not really. See the ones he’s standing with?” He diverts my attention back to Kirill, and a frisson goes through me just like every time I look at him.
As a matter of fact, Kirill has been with those two men more than any of the other guests. One looks as frightening as Viktor. Only, he has a beard, a massive muscular body, and tattoos swirling up his neck like snakes.
The other man more or less shares Kirill’s body type, though he’s not as classically handsome. He has high cheekbones and a mysterious look in his gray eyes.
“Yeah,” I tell Maksim. “I suppose they’re also important in the great scheme of things?”
“How did you figure that out?”
“Boss wouldn’t have given them so much of his time if that weren’t the case.”
“That is correct. Those two hold even more importance than the four kings.” Maksim grins.
“The bearded one is Vladimir, who’s a few years older than Boss.
He’s a stoic authoritarian, an absolute nightmare if you break any rules around him, and might as well be mistaken for a stone in a person’s body.
He’s also the Pakhan’s right hand. The one who goes to war and makes sure the Bratva remains strong. ”
“I see. How about the other one?”
“Now, he…he’s the actual wild card. His name is Adrian. He’s the strategist of the Bratva and knows everything about everyone—the Pakhan included. And when I say everything, I mean every single fucking thing. It’s impossible to cross him and even more futile to go against him.”
“So the best thing to do is get him on your side.”
“In theory, yes. In reality, however, he’s on no one’s side but his own and only holds loyalty to the Bratva. He’s strong enough to only answer to the Pakhan and be considered the strategist. He’s a bit of a recluse, though, and doesn’t show up as much as everyone else.”
My gaze falls on the men again. While Vladimir and Kirill talk, this Adrian, who I’m starting to think could be the key to Kirill’s inauguration, remains silent, composed, and detached.
He barely drinks from his flute, only offers nods occasionally, and doesn’t seem to be disturbed by any presence near him.
That is a dangerous man.
Maybe on the same level as Kirill.
I focus back on Maksim, needing more information to understand the current climate. “I assume Roman Morozov was one of those leaders, and now, one of his sons will take over?”
“You assumed right. Roman was the third of four kings. Boss already lost the internal family vote. Konstantin has Yulia’s vote and her family’s support.”
“Her family?”
“Bankers. Those suckers are richer than God and have the immorality of the devil.” Maksim clicks his tongue. “She was one of the reasons her husband rose in power so tremendously in the first place. She’s using that same method to support Konstantin.”
“But isn’t Kirill a member of their family, too?”
“Not one who brings in profit like his brother does. They don’t care what the name is as long as he’s profitable and is tolerated enough by Yulia to recommend him to her family, but…
” He pauses. “And this is a big BUT. Boss can still rule without internal support. He just won’t be able to sleep soundly at night because of how hostile the environment in the house is.
Every day will be a battle for his life. ”