Chapter 2
TWO
PRESENT DAY
B lood swirls the drain at my feet, whorls of tainted water circling as I rinse my body. I stare at it for the longest time, losing myself in the patterns my sins have created, like it’ll somehow erase what I’ve done. It never gets easier— torturing men, taking away their lives, dealing with death. After ten years of exposure to this sort of thing, you’d think this shit wouldn’t bother me.
Killing a man should come as second nature for someone in my position, yet each time Konstantin Federov calls for me to do his bidding, a little part of my soul dies. Fragments of the man I was fall away, and I know I’ll never get them back.
I can still hear the screams echoing in my ears; the terror rippling and bouncing off the walls of the cell as I dragged the serrated blade through the man’s flesh. Anyone with sadistic tendencies would find the act of torture cathartic, but it only reminds me of how deep I am in this. I’m no longer the man I was before I fell into the Federovs’ hands.
Steam envelops me as I rest my head against the tiled wall and try to block out the last few hours. I fail miserably, guilt setting in. Through practice, I’ve been able to compartmentalize my role within the Bratva. Some days it’s harder than others, but I know I have no choice.
Turning, I rest my back against the wall and slide down to my ass, tilting my head back to let the spill of water coat my face. It does nothing to wash away the self-loathing, but at least I’m alive, which is more than I can say for Yuri Petrov. The poor guy had no hope in hell of surviving the torture I just administered.
But that’s the Russians; ruthless and unforgiving. They know no boundaries when it comes to getting what they want, including killing one of their own. Yuri was just a lowly foot soldier, collecting money from one of the businesses when the cops caught him. It wasn’t his fault that he walked into a trap. He didn’t know we’ve had someone leaking intel to the cops.
My vision turns spotty from the rising heat, my chest tightening from the steam filling my lungs. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get the image of Yuri’s face out of my head. His gargled pleas for mercy echo in my brain like a scratched record.
“Fuck!” I scream, slamming my fist against the floor. My knuckles split, but I prefer the throbbing pain over the agonized cries in my head.
“Kyrovsky!”
I jolt at the sound of my name, followed by the rap of knuckles against the bathroom door.
“Are you okay in there?” Kai asks calmly from the other side.
Pushing up from my position, I run my bloody knuckles under the water. More fucking blood. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”
I hear his responsive grunt of affirmation as I step out of the shower and grab my towel, wrapping it around my body.
“Federov wants to see us,” he shouts.
“Got it,” I yell back, swiping the fog from the mirror with a palm. I move my focus to my reflection, taking stock of my tired features. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, and I’m constantly reminded of that every time I look at myself. If my parents could see me now, I don’t know whether they’d be proud or ashamed. It’s hard to tell when I’m so estranged from them, but that’s the price you pay when you’re the advisor to one of the most dangerous crime lords in America.
I’ve been working for the Federovs for five years, climbing my way through the ranks until Konstantin himself announced he wanted me as his advisor. It’s not where I foresaw my future going, but it’s a whole lot better than what could have been. Taking orders from Konstantin is more desirable than where I started, but it also comes with a lot of responsibility. One wrong move, and I’m the one left to clean up the mess. I’m the one who’s punished to ensure it doesn’t happen again. The role of ‘Advisor’ isn’t what you’d assume. I don’t advise anyone on shit; it’s just a polite term for second-in-command that keeps me somewhat safe from conflict.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I avoid looking directly into my own eyes. I know I won’t like what I see beyond the soulless depths, so I run through the motions of cleaning up as best I can before I have to meet with the boss.
Kai is waiting for me when I eventually step out of the bathroom. He looks up from his position on the couch, where he’s just done a line of coke.
“Finally,” he huffs, swiping the powder from his nose with a grin. He knows better than to push me after hours of administering torture. It’s something I appreciate about the guy, because even though we’ve only worked together for a short amount of time, he picks up on my moods and knows when to leave me alone.
“Can’t a guy get dressed in peace?” I grumble as I bypass where he’s sitting and head to my walk-in closet. I rifle through the hangers, finding my favorite Givenchy shirt—black, to disguise my sins—and peel it over my arms before finding the matching pants. “And do you have to do that shit in here?”
I’m not a fan of drugs—despite the company I keep—so I make a point of staying clear from it as much as possible.
Footsteps sound behind me just as I’m threading my belt through the loops, and when I turn to look at Kai, he’s wearing a concerned expression. At six foot three, you can’t avoid the guy even if you tried. Tattoos cover his muscular build and his jet black hair is worn messy. As much as he doesn’t care much about his appearance, he’s unmistakably attractive.
“What?” I snap. I’ve barely had time to wind down from tonight’s events, and now I’m being pulled into a meeting with our boss. The last thing I need is my own second pushing my buttons.
Though I’m still senior to him, Kai and I don’t have a usual working relationship. He’s more like a little brother to me, even though there’s a couple years between us. He still respects me enough to recognize our boundaries, but that doesn’t stop him from invading my privacy twenty-four-seven.
“You know you can talk to me, Bratan .”
Huffing, I button up my shirt and tuck it into my slacks. “What’s there to talk about?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe the fact you hide yourself away every time we’ve had to deal with one of Federov’s men?”
I shoot him a pointed look. He knows as well as I do that men like me shouldn’t be affected by killing lesser soldiers, but most men like me don’t have a heart. Deep down, I’ve clung to my morals and respect for mortality because it’s what keeps me centered. If I let go of that part of me, I know there’ll be no turning back.
“It’s been a long night,” I sigh, closing my eyes as I rub my brow. “I’m just really fucking tired.”
Suspicion clings to the air as he backs away from me, allowing me to walk towards my dresser. Picking up my watch and phone that I left on the side, he doesn’t utter a single word or question my shit excuse, he just follows me out of the room and down the hallway towards Konstantin’s office.
I knock three times before entering. It’s the usual routine, and we never wait for him to answer when we know he’s expecting us. Pushing the door open, the musky scent of cigars hits my nostrils immediately. I resist the urge to grimace when Kai closes the door behind us, taking his position beside it as I step further into the room.
“Ah.” Konstantin clears his throat, lifting his gaze to me with his lips curved into a genuine smile. “ Sovietnik, Milo .”
From an outside perspective, Konstantin carries all the power and authority of a king. Large in stature with graying hair, he’s lived a life others envy. He’s been the head of the Bratva for over thirty years, with his brother working closely beside him.
They’re polar opposites, but that’s what makes Konstantin a great leader. He doles out punishments worse than death, but he’s also fair—to a point. He’s got the smarts to see this organization go far, but with The Five standing in our way and restricting our shipments, there’s only so much we can do.
“You wanted to see me?” I respond in Russian, stepping towards his desk. He’s always preferred our conversations to be in our native tongue, especially in his office. I know it’s because he’s paranoid and doesn’t want those outside our circle listening—which I understand—but we’re in his home. It stands to reason we don’t need to watch our backs here. Then again, we’re currently dealing with a mole in our ranks, so everyone is suspicious.
“ Did Yuri speak?” he asks, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket and tucking it between his lips.
I take out my lighter and lean forward, holding it to the end for him. Konstantin puffs on his cigar a few times before the end glows a bright orange.
“He had nothing of value,” I reply, flicking my lighter closed and tucking it back in my pocket. “He swears he doesn’t know who the mole is.”
“And you believe him?” It’s not an accusation, but a question only I can answer, because I’m the one he trusts the most—aside from his brother.
I think about my response carefully. The man is already dead, so either way my answer is redundant, but Konstantin needs reassurance. “Yes,” I nod. “I believe he was telling the truth.”
“Shame,” he mutters, exhaling a cloud of smoke in my direction. “He was a good man.”
He sure was, but that doesn’t matter. He was punished for not being more careful. We can’t risk weaknesses in the Bratva, and tonight I sent that message to the rest of Federov’s men.
“Never mind,” he sighs. “I’m sure Malakai can take over.”
I glance over my shoulder, watching my second stir slightly. The fact Konstantin now wants him to collect from the businesses is pretty much a death sentence. It should be taken honorably, but even I recognize the risk. He doesn’t exactly have a great role model to follow, since he just helped me kill the last one. But Kai stands tall, shoulders rolling back like he’s accepting his fate already.
I return my focus to Konstantin and nod. “If that is what you wish.”
“I’d prefer not to waste my men away. You need to find out who the mole is, Sovietnik.” He taps his cigar into a glass on his desk, letting the ash stir with the dregs of vodka.
“I will,” I assure. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Good. We need to tighten all ranks if we’re going to expand.”
“About that,” I reply tentatively. “We shouldn’t bring attention to ourselves.” We’re already on a short leash when it comes to using their docks to bring in our shipments. They’re all authorized, of course, but the Federovs have never liked being under their thumb, and this current restriction puts a dent in our plans.
“Yes, yes. You’re right. We need to stay on the Italian’s good side.”
“As long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
His tired eyes gaze back at me. “ Is that something you can handle?”
My brows furrow because I’m certain there’s more to it than what he’s saying and even though he isn’t specific, I know what I need to do. I nod, standing from my chair to adjust my suit jacket. “Anything else?” I ask.
“No, moy mal'chik.” He returns to English, clearly done with the conversation. “Just get some sleep.”
Clearly, my exhaustion is written all over my face, but that’s what he gets for asking me here at eleven o’clock at night. We work all hours of the day without protest because empires don’t build themselves. I know Konstantin expects more from me, but more isn’t something I can give.
I bid him goodnight and retreat from the office with Kai hot on my heels.
“Need me to do anything?” he asks, hope lacing his voice. His last hit has already sprinted through his system and I can see his pupils dilating. The guy seriously needs to get off the gear, but I know he’s only using it to get away from his own demons.
I take a seat at my desk, watching as he leans against the doorframe. “Just get rid of the fucking coke.”