34. Roman
CHAPTER 34
Roman
“It seems the pakhan understated how often he attends Midnight Society events,” Kazan says at the end of his briefing. He gestures to the numerous candid photographs displayed on the projector screen. “He has attended almost every event in the past year.”
I grunt in answer.
It’s information I would’ve considered irrelevant until recently. Why should I give a fuck if the pakhan wants to dine with the rich elites like those in the Midnight Society? Those stuffy assholes would never be my company of choice, but for a man who prides himself on having more refined tastes, it would be the crowd he enjoys.
In light of what’s happened, I view his choices differently. The pakhan utilized the Midnight Society’s marketplace to buy Katerina. He violated her.
She admits she never saw his face, but she heard his voice. I could sense the truth in every word she spoke; she was certain it was him, and I believe her.
He had to have known who she was.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Though I’ve tried to hide Katerina from the rest of the bratva, they’ve learned who she is; they’re aware of her importance.
Men like the pakhan and sovietnik could’ve found out in a variety of ways. Uncle Leonid could’ve told not only my father but the pakhan as well. Polina is another possibility, considering she was in my penthouse posing as an employee of mine.
Maybe there’s another person in my crew who has been playing the role of spy that I’m not aware of.
But it almost doesn’t matter how the pakhan has found out—he knows and he’s decided to wield Katerina as a weapon against me. If he didn’t outright sell her to the Midnight Society through a proxy like JC, then he certainly sought her out in the marketplace, purchasing her so he could inflict harm.
I might never know the full truth of what’s gone on.
It doesn’t even fucking matter anymore.
As Kazan finishes his latest intel brief, it’s clear there’s no one other than my inner circle who I can trust. I’m preparing to go scorched earth on the entire family.
“We believe we’re aware of JC Howell’s location,” Dmitri announces once Kazan’s done speaking. He brings a map up on the projector screen and gestures to the Harrisburg neighborhood in Easton. “He was spotted there earlier today. We’re closing in on him.”
“I want him brought to me,” I say. “He’s going to wish for death.”
“He’s taking payments from someone.” Dmitri strokes his chin in thought. “He’s been evading us for this long. It means somebody must be helping.”
“I have an idea who. Find him immediately. Keep him alive. He’s mine.” I rise up from the planning table where I’ve been seated and then gesture to Kazan. “Eyes on this Midnight Society. I want to know who the fuck this Handler is and why he put Katerina up for sale. He will be paying for what he’s done too. They all will be.”
My men disperse like they usually do at the end of these meetings. Only Kazan remains for a private word. He steps toward me, his arms folded behind his back.
“We don’t have the numbers to take on the pakhan. We don’t even have the numbers to defeat your father. Reconnaissance is good… but where is this headed, Zver?”
“Have some faith,” I answer vaguely. “I have a plan. But first do your fucking job. Get me the information I need.”
Another tense week goes by where we’ve retreated into the shadows as we conduct our recon missions. We’ve dropped off the map as far as the bratva is concerned. The schism in our family becomes official, as my crew no longer takes orders from anyone but me. The sovietnik and pakhan have no say in what me or my men do.
We’ve broken off and become our own faction.
Our security measures are heightened at all times. There’s no such thing as too many precautions when in opposition of the pakhan.
Kazan was correct when he said we don’t have the numbers. I have one crew of men.
The pakhan has dozens.
But I’ve never been one to back down from a fight. I’ve never been one to care about odds being stacked against me.
I was born with nothing. I come from the slums like Katerina did. I’ve fought my way out and risen up the ranks of the bratva, not because the sovietnik is my father (he was never a father as I grew up dirt poor in Borovsk where he initially abandoned us). I’ve earned my position by my own merit.
That’s why I’m viewed as a threat.
I wasn’t groomed from birth like so many others in leadership roles. I wasn’t raised with a silver spoon in my mouth like the pakhan was.
I’m stronger, sharper, and younger than my father.
The pakhan never viewed him as a threat. He viewed me as the threat all along.
Kazan and the others provide me constant updates on their findings. JC continues to elude capture, confirming what we’ve suspected. Someone powerful is backing him; probably the same powerful someone who hired his crew to kidnap Roman Volkova in the first place.
…except now it doesn’t seem to be a mistake that Katerina and her crew took me hostage.
Now it seems like that was always the plan.
Katerina was simply left in the dark about what was really going on.
The Handler isn’t as lucky as Kat’s former accomplice. He’s brought in after my men capture him late at night outside the Winchester Hotel in Easton.
We tie him up to a chair. He’s already bruised and swollen by the time I’m walking into the room to see him. He does his best imitation of a steely, old-school Russian who wants to remain stoic and unbreakable, but there are signs that reveal otherwise.
The subtle chatter of his teeth when he believes I’m not looking. The cadence of the breaths he takes in. Even the cloud of confusion in his beady little eyes.
Borys Yakovlev is the guy who handles the people put up for sale by the Midnight Society. He treats the people like cattle as he offers them up for auction. Katerina told me all about how he’d shoved her into a bird cage and let the pakhan bid six thousand dollars on her.
His blood decorates the walls as I introduce him to my fists… and other instruments of pain.
He holds out as long as he can before he’s crying out in pain. He’s yelling at me in Russian, claiming I have the wrong man.
“Ya ne prinimayu resheniya!? * ” he howls.
I grin, slamming my brass-knuckled fist into him again and savoring the cracking noise from his jaw. “No ty yvpolnyayesh’ ch’i-to prikazy. Rasskazhi mne, chto ty znayesh? * .”
In the end, Borys spills what he knows. He tells me all about how the owner of the Midnight Society, a Russian billionaire named Dmitri Androski Raskova, was murdered by his son, Kaden. The secret club of elites has been rudderless ever since.
…until the pakhan began showing more of an interest in the society.
In the absence of real leadership, he’s been signaling to other high-ranking members that he may purchase the club and become the new owner.
The bratva has always trafficked people. It’s been a part of our business that I’ve done my best to stay away from, but it is a harsh reality of the lifestyle. Most of the women Ivanka manages are borrowed by men in our family.
Owning an entity like the Midnight Society would allow the pakhan to increase his profits in the flesh trade exponentially.
It still poses the question: how the fuck did the pakhan know to target Katerina? Did one of the men present at my father’s dinner weeks ago spot her in the collar by my side and spread word to him? Or did Leonid tell him about how I disfigured him that fateful night?
Borys fills in some blanks about the pakhan ’s movements, but that’s no reason for his life to be spared. He played a role in what happened to my kitty cat, so I kill him once he’s outlived his use. Once he’s given all the info he has, dripping blood and one eyeball hanging from its socket thanks to how badly I’ve battered him, I bash his skull in with a metal baseball bat.
By the time I’m through with him, what was once his head resembles a smashed watermelon on the ground.
“Clean this up,” I grunt at some of my men. “We need to keep this room ready for when we catch JC.”
In the meantime, I have another move to make. While we seek out the rat that seems to be on the pakhan ’s payroll, me and a handful of my crew head out to seek an unlikely ally.
I’m not a man who trusts easily. I’ve made it as far as I have because I’ve trusted so few people. Katerina and a select number of my men are the only people on this earth who I still trust.
But when going up against the might of the pakhan, I’ll need others. I’ll need to extend myself and learn to take a chance that there are others out there who may be willing to form an alliance.
Another use Borys’s information provided me was in the history lesson about the Midnight Society. He told me all about how the club had a sister society that once existed in Northam called the Neptune Society.
This society, in many ways, was even more powerful than the Midnight Society. It was so deeply entrenched in Northam’s inner workings as a city that the mayor and police commissioner were involved.
The former head of the Five Families, Lucius Mancino, was the owner of the Society.
An interesting piece of info for several reasons.
The first being the clear similarity between Lucius and the pakhan now wanting to dominate the Midnight Society. With Lucius gone, the Neptune Society dismantled completely, and the tensions between the bratva and the others in the Five Families, it could give the pakhan another tool to exert power.
Men like Lucius Mancino, the pakhan , and even my father don’t become powerful overnight. They build empires over time, then they take full control.
But the other reason Borys’s lesson on the Midnight Society and Neptune Society interests me is because of who else was deeply involved in the destruction of the latter club.
Salvatore Mancino, the new Don of the Mancino family and the head of the Five Families, played a pivotal role in dismantling the Neptune Society.
This was before my time in Northam. Back when I was still a fresh brigadier working directly under the sovietnik in Russia. I had heard rumblings about a brief alliance Salvatore Mancino made with the bratva and yakuza in order to take out his father.
He succeeded, ascending to the top of the hierarchy in not only the Mancino family, but forging a new way forward with the Five Families.
Salvatore sits waiting for me when I turn up to his club, Nirvana.
He’s got a righthand with wire-framed glasses who stands at his side with his arms crossed. The man’s not intimidating in the slightest, tall with a knobby throat, yet something tells me he’s valuable if Salvatore’s given him such a high position.
I nod upon entering the room, the three men I’ve brought with me serving as my shadow.
Salvatore is impossible to read. A great quality for a don of a mafia family. His expression is cold and composed, his gaze intense meeting mine.
Five seconds into our meeting and I already know why and how he’s wound up where he has.
I already know maybe I’ve found the perfect ally.
“You requested to meet,” he says, his brows raising. “Separate from the rest of the family. I found that interesting.”
“I am my own man.” I step toward the desk he sits behind. “I’m sure you can relate.”
“Am I supposed to know what the fuck you’re talking about?” he asks.
I grin, expecting no less than the question he’s asked. “You should… considering our stories are similar. You may not be familiar with me, but I’ve heard about how you came to be Don. I’ve heard all about your father.”
His gaze narrows in suspicion. The muscle in his jaw spasms. The first subtle tell he gives.
I keep going.
“Very impressive,” I add. “You were a capo with a small crew of men and you fought the rest of your father’s army. You came out on top and took the family from him.”
“If you’re looking to involve the Mancino name in your family squabbles, you can forget it,” he says. “I don’t get involved in the politics of each of the Five Families unless it concerns broader issues.”
“There have been complications between my family and the others in the Five. You know how my father, the sovietnik, has been making things difficult for them.”
“And it’s being handled,” he snaps. “I have no interest in getting involved in your father-son drama. Take it elsewhere.”
One of my men lets out a frustrated breath. This would normally be the point where violence breaks out. Russians infamously take offense to slights while Italians have fiery tempers themselves.
But I hold up my hand to signal to my men this isn’t that kind of visit.
The man on Salvatore’s side nudges his wire-framed glasses up his nose and says, “Psycho, I think there’s more to this guy’s story.”
“I missed the part where I asked for your opinion, Stitches,” Salvatore says. Then he cuts me a severe look that probably intimidates most men.
I’m not most men. The look simply makes me challenge him back. I return his glare, my own jaw clenched.
“Your capo is right. I’ve told you I heard your story. You overcame the odds by defeating your father. You took out what was known as the Neptune Society. The same society that was used to hurt your wife.”
Salvatore Mancino’s reaction is the same reaction I’d have if someone dared bring up Katerina to me. He sits up in his chair and I can sense the violent urges emerging from within. I’m one wrong word or phrase away from his wrath.
But I’m not backing down now. I’ve come this far.
“What if I told you other similar societies still exist?” I ask. “In Easton, there’s a club called the Midnight Society. The pakhan is attempting to purchase it. If he does, it’ll be a useful tool that aids him in his rise to power, much like it did with your father, Lucius. That would be bad news for you and your grip on the Five Families.
“The pakhan wants to be the head of the families. He wants to take control of what you have. He’s been building up to it for years. I have helped him. But I’m no longer under his thumb. It’s time he’s removed from his position of power and meets a fate like Lucius did.”
Silence follows my proposal. Salvatore glances at the man called Stitches, who merely stares back from behind his spectacles.
“And I can believe a word you say because…” Salvatore trails off.
“Because,” I growl, baring teeth, “they’ve come for me. They’ve come for me the same way your father came for you. The same fucking way your father considered you a threat and sought to squash you out. They took my woman, they sold her, they hurt her like they did to your wife. They will do everything they can to eliminate the threat that I am. I’m coming to you for the chance to do something about it before it’s too late.”
“The pakhan going for a power play,” Stitches thinks aloud. “I can see it, Psycho.”
Salvatore remains silent a moment longer, then says, “I’ll think about it.”
It’s as good as we’re going to get for the moment.
I take partial victory in the fact that it’s not an outright denial. In the fact that his righthand seems to be convinced and that everything I’ve learned about Salvatore Mancino tells me he’s the kind of man who will always put up a fight when he deems it necessary.
If he thought the Neptune Society needed to be destroyed, he must think the same about the Midnight Society.
If he believed Lucius Mancino deserved to be overthrown, then the same can be said about the pakhan.
My new potential ally is still on my mind when I return to our base of operations. I head up to my private chambers that I share with Katerina, deciding to call an end to the long day. I haven’t been spending as much time with my kitty cat as I would like.
She hasn’t been herself lately.
Ever since she was rescued from the Midnight Society, she’s been quieter, more contemplative. She’s been sleeping and reading a lot. I’ve caught her doing things like yoga and meditating, possibly to clear her head.
But as I enter our private space, I’m not expecting what I come across.
There’s a buzzing noise from the bathroom, the door partially ajar. I head toward the noise, unsure what I’ll find on the other side. Nudging the door the rest of the way open, the first thing that I see are curly tendrils of hair filling up the sink basin.
Then my gaze rises to the woman standing at the sink with hair clippers in her hand.
The expression on her face can only be described as euphoric. Her dark eyes are wide and almost innocent as they meet mine in the mirror, then she smiles.
She’s shaved it off.
Every curl of hair gone.
The dried, dyed, drab mop they’d left her with during her captivity is no more.
She’s gotten rid of it, and seeing the relief on her beautiful face almost makes me fucking lightheaded.
It makes me thrilled enough to laugh. I take wide steps toward her, outstretching my arms.
She sets down the clippers and begins to ask, “Do you like it? Do you mind if I’m bal?—”
I crush my lips to hers in answer. “It’s hair, devochka. It’ll grow back. You look fucking sexy like this.”
* ? Ya ne prinimayu resheniya - I don’t make decisions
* ? No ty yvpolnyayesh’ ch’i-to prikazy. Rasskazhi mne, chto ty znayesh - But you’re following someone’s orders. Tell me what you know.