Chapter 3
three
It is ridiculously easy to slip past Kirill’s defenses. The men guarding his compound are no more than Wal-Mart security guards when it comes to alertness. Bone cracks beneath my hands as I separate the guard’s brain from his spinal cord, his body falling lifelessly at my feet.
There are only ten guards total, with two active sweeping along the perimeter that Ivan has already taken care of. It is sloppy. Kirill believes himself to be untouchable, especially since he thinks I am dead.
Satisfaction wells in my chest knowing I had been the reason he had so many guards before. The moment he learned I was dead he loosened his security measures.
Big mistake.
Now I am a viper in his nest.
Silent.
Deadly.
Ready for the kill.
Andrei’s two guards stand outside of Kirill’s office, ready for action. Their eyes scan the hallway, continuously on alert. These are the only men we will spare.
Raised voices drift down the corridor. The two brothers are arguing.
Good.
Neither of them will hear us coming.
“Go,” I whisper into the comm line. Within moments the men at the door slump against the wall. Ketamine darts are highly effective in times like this.
Nighty night, fuckers.
“You expect me to believe this bullshit?” Andrei roars, his voice sharp like a crack of thunder.
“You’re a disgrace, brother.” He spits the word as if it is a foul taste in his mouth.
“There are dozens of accusations here. With proof. You expect me to believe that none of this was you? That your filthy, greedy hands haven’t tainted our name with this shit? ”
Kirill laughs cruelly.
“Tainted our name?” he asks in disbelief. “We are the Bratva. Not some fancy fucking corporation. We spill blood. Our name is meant to spread fear. You have made us into nothing but docile little lambs. No one respects the Tkachenko name anymore. No one fears it like they should.”
“You can’t run an empire off fear,” Andrei snarls. “Father did that and look how it ended for him. Too many men switched sides. They weren’t truly loyal, just afraid.”
“Fear keeps them in line,” Kirill hisses. “I have tried telling you this.”
Andrei sighs. “We can’t rule like that.”
“If we did, maybe our enemies wouldn’t be making up lies to tear us apart,” Kirill softens his voice, but I can hear the calculated manipulation a mile away. “They see our weakness and now they are exploiting it. We can’t allow them to do that.”
“Maybe you are right,” Andrei’s dejected tone moves something within me. This man has fought for so long to stay true to some kind of value amongst a world where values are a weakness exploited by the enemy.
Andrei is fighting against a tide of men who have only known how to rule through fear.
Men who, with the guidance of Kirill, perpetuate that cycle behind their leaders back.
It is pathetic. Tomas has shown me that loyalty isn’t earned through fear.
It is earned through dedication and loyalty to your community.
To your people.
Knots wind in my stomach, bile chasing up my throat at the thought of Kirill running the Bratva empire in Russia.
The Tkachenko family runs everything. Even Tomas paid loyalty to them after his freedom from his own Pakhan.
If Kirill manages to gain that kind of power, he will tear everything Tomas built apart.
The war will be brutal and bloody.
“He isn’t right, Papa.” Right on time. Ivan strides through the large mahogany double doors with his head held high.
His crisp black Bespoke suit is tailored to perfection, and he wears it like it is a second skin.
He might have given up the luxury of being a Bratva prince, but he’s never forgotten what it was like.
“Uncle is just trying to manipulate you. Again.”
“Ivan.” A chair scrapes against the wooden floor.
Andrei is standing now. I can just make them out through the crack in the side of the door.
The photos I have seen of Andrei must have been older.
The man in Kirill’s office is more distinguished.
Older. His dark hair is tinted with gray strands that hang on his face.
His salt and pepper beard and mustache are neatly trimmed.
Andrei Tkachenko exudes power effortlessly, unlike his brother whose power comes from intimidation.
“Hello, father.” He bows his head in respect before lifting his eyes. The resemblance between the two is uncanny. The two are closer to brothers in appearance than father and son. Then again, they are only around twenty years apart and Andrei appears far younger than his age.
“What are you doing here?” Kirill spits. “How did you get past my guards? GUARDS!”
No one comes.
There is no one left but me and I am not ready to reveal my hand yet.
Let him sweat a little.
“No one is coming, uncle,” Ivan tells him quietly. “It’s time we had a nice family chat about everything you have done. Don’t you think?”
Andrei’s gaze darts back and forth between his brother and his son.
“What the hell is going on?” he asks, his tone dipping.
“Everything you received is accurate intel,” Ivan tells his father patiently. “It has all been verified by multiple sources. None of it has been tampered with or altered in any way.”
Confusion flits across our father’s face. “How do you know about what I received?”
Ivan smirks. “I sent it.”
“You little fucking…” Kirill spits, but Andrei holds up his hand to silence him. The man’s face turns an angry shade of purple, his beady eyes bulging from his head as he glares daggers at his nephew.
“There is so much you don’t know,” Ivan continues, his eyes on his father, barely acknowledging that Kirill is having a mini stroke next to them. “So much I tried to warn you about. But you were blinded by his perceived loyalty that you couldn’t see through the cracks in his facade.”
“He is my brother,” Andrei reminds his son. “The man who helped me avenge the death of your mother. If it wasn’t for him, your grandfather would never have fallen.”
“If it wasn’t for him,” Ivan sneers. “There would have been no war.”