7. Lev
The Zarkov Bratva.
A family born from blood, sweat, and power sit around the war table in the basement of ZeeMed headquarters.
The inner sanctum consists of the twelve men who were loyal to my father and now to me: my uncles—Boris and Vadim, my cousin Maksim, and, of course, my most trusted Feliks. Our soldiers, of which there are thousands, do not attend these meetings. This is where the decisions are made. This is where war is declared.
When Feliks and I walk in, the energy in the room is tense. Every man is ready to respond to what Vlad has done with uninhibited force.
Taking my place at the head of the table, I’m ready to address the issue at hand. But when I see Vadim sitting there like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world, I have to bite back the urge to pull out my gun and demand he tell me how involved he is with Vlad.
Luckily for him, drawing a weapon during one of these meetings would be breaking a long-standing rule. But that doesn’t stop the blood heating in my veins or dampen the urge to put a bullet between his eyes.
I don’t know if Vadim has a secretive alliance with Vlad or if he is, in fact, the one pulling Vlad’s strings, but I am sure he is involved somehow. Did he have Brooke kidnapped? Was he the one who ordered the car bombing? The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I have to remind myself that there are ways to do things, and shooting my uncle in the face for his betrayal is not it. Well, not today.
It might actually be good he’s here.
Because right now, I don’t know how deep his disloyalty runs, but after today, I will. He’s not leaving until I find out the goddamn truth.
Further down the table, I notice two chairs are empty. Boris and Maksim. I frown and drum my fingers against the table. I didn’t expect Vadim to show his guilty face. But Boris and Maksim’s absence is surprising.
“You look well, Pakhan,” says an older vor. “It was a blessing you were not injured as badly as our dear friend Igor.”
“Is Igor expected to live?” another vor asks.
Feliks replies, “Igor is as strong as an ox. He will survive.”
I think of my friend swathed in bandages and fighting for his life in a hospital bed, and my gaze slides to Vadim. He will pay for what he has done.
“Vlad Bhyzova declared war on this bratva when he kidnapped my fiancée and then attempted to assassinate me. Since then, it appears he’s fled underground. I’ve called you all here today because I intend to smoke him out…” My eyes lock with Vadim’s. “…and whoever he may be working with.”
“Who would be dumb enough?” an old vor at the end of the table scoffs.
“Do we know who might be working with him?” another vor asks.
Again, my gaze moves to Vadim. “I have a fair idea.”
Vadim frowns. “And who would that be?”
My eyes narrow. “Why don’t you tell me your theories, Uncle?”
“Vlad Bhyzova is a mudak. He couldn’t orchestrate a fuck in a brothel. If he did what you said he did—”
I grit my teeth. “He put Brooke in the hospital after he kidnapped and beat her.”
“Then my condolences to your bride-to-be, Nephew. But Vlad isn’t smart enough to do this alone. Someone else must be driving the machine.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I growl.
He has the nerve to look indignant as he asks, “You think it’s me?”
“If it looks like a rat and smells like a rat, then it must be—”
“My acquaintance with Vlad does not extend to an alliance.”
I bang my fist on the table. “Enough with the lies. You and Vlad have been working together.”
“I am not working with him. Vlad Bhyzova is of no use to me.”
I stand and stalk down the table toward him. Then breaking the sanctity of the inner sanctum, I pull out my gun and point it at my uncle. Rules be damned. “Lie to me again, and I’ll shoot you in the fucking head.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Just like you did to Aleks?”
“Exactly like I did to Aleks. You betray the bratva like he did, and you die like he did.”
He slowly rises to his feet but makes no move for the gun I know he keeps in the breast pocket of his suit. “You are out of control.”
“Which is the right thing to say to a man pointing his fucking gun at you,” I growl.
The door opens, and Boris and Maksim stroll in as if they’re not fifteen fucking minutes late.
“Looks like we’re missing out on all the fun,” Boris jokes, but his smile quickly fades when he feels the fury burning off me like flames.
“What the hell is going on?” Maksim asks.
“Perhaps we should sit down,” Boris says to his son and ushers him to their seats.
“Good fucking idea. You can tell me why you were late once I’ve dealt with this mudak and his scheme to get rid of me so he could step into the role of pakhan.”
Vadim remains stoic, looking down the barrel of my gun. “That’s not true.”
“No? You’ve been scheming to get rid of me since I stepped into this role. Always questioning my decisions. Whispering behind my back, knowing it would get back to me.”
“It’s no secret I think you’re too young for the role. I’ve never tried to hide it.” He looks to his brother, but Boris looks away. “But I would not betray my pakhan.”
“Then explain to me why every time I turn around, I find you and Vlad together.”
His eyes sparkle back at me, and for a moment, I can see my father in them. A proud, intelligent man and a brilliant strategist.
My grip on my gun tightens.
He is nothing like my father.
“Vlad is an associate, nothing more. You will need to trust me on this, Nephew.”
I step closer. “But I don’t trust you, Uncle. I want you gone.”
“You don’t have any proof to have me thrown out of this bratva. I’m not Aleks. I’m a part of the inner circle. The rules apply.”
An old vor clears his throat. “Vadim is correct, Pakhan. There are ways to do these things. I urge you to put down your gun.”
“And I want answers,” I growl. I press my gun to Vadim’s temple, and the tension in the room gets heavier. “Fuck the rules.”
Vadim looks to Boris. “You have nothing to say, Brother?”
But Boris remains tight-lipped, and Vadim sends him a menacing look.
He closes his eyes.
But I don’t pull the trigger. Instead, I rip my gun away and step close enough to whisper in his ear, “You’re lucky I want answers more than I want your brains splattered all over this table.”
The proud old man’s shoulders sag with relief, but he says nothing.
I turn my attention to Feliks, Boris, and Maksim. “In my office, now. The rest of you are dismissed.”
I don’t mention Brooke’s pregnancy. For now, she has a large enough target on her back because she is my fiancée. I can only imagine how big that target would grow when my enemies learn she is carrying my heir.