Chapter Thirty-Three
Nikolai
Etot grebanyy mudak!
As much as I despise that fucker Aslanov, I have to hand it to him—he is a smart fucker. The bastard outsmarted both me and Timur and he did it with ease. He used Lauren as leverage against me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It makes me want to tear him apart as I think about it.
Pizdets!
The world comes crashing down as I realize that this was the last time I saw Lauren.
This wouldn’t be so bad without her in the picture.
And it’s even worse that she’s carrying our child.
I’ll never get to witness my daughter’s face, her sweet smile, or watch as she grows into a beautiful woman, just like her mother. Aslanov took that away from me too.
Maybe it’s for the best.
Maybe a man like me doesn’t deserve such happiness.
All that’s left for me to do is to make sure that the two of them will be safe for the rest of their lives. And if sacrificing myself is the price I pay for their safety, then it’s worth it.
Your life for theirs, Rogov.
I grit my teeth as I brace myself for what’s to come.
Aslanov’s men continue escorting me through the scrapyard until I’m back at the warehouse I came from, being yanked back under the half-closed shutter, and then back into the maze of racking.
Without the light from the outside, the place is even darker, the silence more eerie.
One of Aslanov’s men flicks on a torch and I am steered around the corner, away from the racking.
We enter a separate room, one that looks like it used to belong to management.
It’s small, the place filled with rotting desks and old furniture and computer monitors that look like they were made in the late nineties.
I am shoved down into one of the seats.
I clench my jaw, so close to cursing at them, lashing out and gutting them like a bunch of pigs. They have pushed me around for too long. But I push down my rage. Lauren and Timur would suffer the consequences if I did. Aslanov and his men have me by the balls and they know it.
One of the men circles around the chair and presses the barrel of his gun against my back.
“Now that it’s just us, there’s something else.” My voice comes out hoarse.
Aslanov steps into view, his predatory features accentuated by the flashlight in his hand. He props it up against one of the computer monitors, harsh white light illuminating into the room at an angle. “What?”
I exhale a breath. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll go down—”
“You’re going down anyway, dolboyob. You fucked up so colossally, you can’t even—”
“Let me finish,” I grit, allowing a pause to see if he retaliates. He doesn’t. He just hardens his features and fixes his eyes on me. So, I continue. “You can have everything I have built over the years, but you must guarantee Lauren and the child’s safety. Timur’s too. They haven’t done anything.”
Aslanov eyes me for a while like he’s actually considering. Then, he smiles. I know that he wants my empire. My pregnant woman was just a tool for him to get what he wanted.
He dismisses me, turning to his men. He clicks his fingers, ordering them. “Give it to him.”
One of the thugs crosses the room and grabs something, walking it over to me.
My eyes follow him, trying to work out what it is between the shadows.
At first, I think it’s the Magnum from earlier until he walks it closer and sets it down next to me on a desk.
It’s a folder. My hands are itching to open it, but I keep them firmly planted on my lap.
Aslanov gives me a nod. “Read it.”
I glance up at him, then I reach for the folder, expecting paperwork—stacks of documentation. Instead, I see one single piece of paper. I squint, trying to read the words in the difficult light.
TRANSFER OF SYNDICATE OWNERSHIP AND CONTROL
WHEREAS, Nikolai Andreyevich Rogov, acting as Pakhan of the Rogov Bratva, hereby transfers to Ronan Ilyich Aslanov full and unconditional control over the said syndicate and all assets therein; and WHEREAS, this transfer shall include but not be limited to: all underbosses, all soldiers, associates, and family members attached to the Rogov Syndicate. ..
I take my time to read the page. There’s more.
It’s not just all of my mercenaries, but earnings, too.
Companies. Clients. Funds. Everything. The man has done his homework and left no stone unturned.
If I sign the dotted line, the Rogov lineage ends.
My lineage ends. There will be no Rogov Bratva.
One signature, and my entire empire is history.
One of his men presses a pen into my hand.
Skol'zkiy ublyudok.
I guess this is it. The end of the line.
He knew that I would cooperate no matter what, as soon as he had Lauren.
This is what he was patiently waiting for—an opportunity to catch her and use it as leverage.
How he found out about her pregnancy, and how much she means to me, remains a mystery.
Charles, probably. Not that it matters much at this point.
He knew what he was doing the whole time.
He even expected me to try to negotiate.
That’s why he had the contract prepared.
Yebanyy mudak!
I feel him over me, watching. In my peripheral vision, I see a slow, satisfied smirk tug at the corner of his wiry mouth. He has me by the balls and he’s enjoying it.
“I knew that you would ask for your little suka to be safe, Rogov. Like I said, you’re predictable.
So much so, that it’s starting to become boring now.
Anyway.” He shifts, moving around to face me.
He squats down to look me in the eye. “Sign it, and both your girl and your friend walk out of here alive. That’s what you want, isn’t it?
” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Of course, I’m not forcing you to sign it, but I think you know what happens if you refuse.
” He sharpens his eyes, a cruel expression souring his features even more.
“They all die before the sun comes up. The girl, your beloved Timur, and—” his tone goes even colder— “your precious little baby girl. And I’ll make sure you get to watch the show before I kill you, too. ”
I grip the pen, my fist clenched.
Blyad.
When I was younger, all I ever wanted was to lead the Rogov Bratva on my own terms, taking over from a father who didn’t give two shits about who he lost. I guess I succeeded, right?
It doesn’t feel that way anymore.
Not since I met Lauren.
And now that I have people that I care about so much that I’m willing to sign everything I have away in order to protect them, it feels like the only reasonable course of action.
I have proved myself wrong, but would that be so bad?
I hated my father because he was always chasing the next thing, unbothered by casualty and death as long as he retained his power.
Sitting here now, the tip of the pen almost reaching the paper, it’s clearer than ever that you can’t rule a Bratva and have people that you care about.
The only way you can successfully lead and continue to do so for generations is if you’re Ronan Aslanov—cold, calculating, ruthless.
He’s the kind of man that would bury his own mother alive if it meant he could retain his power.
I sigh, keeping a firm hand even though after the signature, everything changes.
But it’s for the better.
Lauren, Timur, and my unborn daughter come first. Everything I have built amounts to nothing if they don’t make it out of this.
I couldn’t have asked for a better right-hand man and friend.
And Lauren… I’m not sure if I believe in fate and coincidences, but if I didn’t step up to lead the Rogov Bratva, our paths might never have crossed.
If I had to step up to lead hundreds of men through Atlanta’s underground, I would do it all over again just to stop her from crashing that goddamn wedding.
Maybe my organization has run its course anyway. Maybe it was always supposed to end this way, me signing away my empire to save a woman who means more to me than my own life.
It was a good run.
But now it’s time to end it with a bang.
Literally.
I know what’s coming after I sign these papers.
Ronan and his thugs are going to blow my brains out and then bury me outside the scrapyard.
What a fine legacy, pridurok.
But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter where they bury me as long as I can buy Lauren and Timur’s safety. Maybe I deserve this, after all the terrible things I’ve done in my life. Maybe this is my redemption…
I pause, the pen poised over the dotted line, turning to Aslanov. “One condition.”
“You can’t afford conditions.”
“Just listen.” My other hand clenches into a fist by the chair. A part of me hopes that when his time comes, he’ll have something or someone to lose. Like I do. Maybe then he’ll learn a lesson. The same lesson I’m learning now. “I want you to let Charles take the fall. You walk away clean.”
He watches me, the smirk fading. He tilts his head.
I continue. “You want my empire? My life? Fine. But you hand Charles over to the feds. You let him take the fall and you walk away clean, unscathed. There will be no ties. No heat on you.”
He arches a brow, suspicious. “Why would you want me to walk away clean? What’s in it for you?”
I exhale. “With Charles at your side, you’re not as untouchable as you think.
He might have helped you previously, but he’s getting old.
That makes him sloppy. It’s only a matter of time before the feds catch up to him.
” I furrow my brow, watching him. “And you don’t strike me as the kind of person that would want to be involved when that happens. ”
He studies me carefully. “Since when did you care so much about my life and reputation?”
“I couldn’t give a shit,” I scoff. “But I care about Lauren. As long as Charles is roaming around, she is unsafe.”
He clicks his tongue. “How romantic.” He puts a hand to his chest in mocking.
“You surprise me, Niko. Maybe not so predictable, after all. You really have turned over a new leaf.” He laughs.
“You should be thanking me that I’m here to save your precious empire and all of the men in it.
The Rogov Bratva is nothing with a wet-behind-the-ears leader. ”
If that’s how he sees it…
He can think whatever the fuck he wants.
He studies me for a moment longer. “Fine. Charles takes the fall. I walk.”
I don’t look at the man any longer than necessary.
Returning to the contract, to the dotted line, I bring pen to paper and begin jotting down my signature.
It’s a bruise to the ego. I feel my old self creeping back in.
Signing my life’s work away to a human piece of shit like him makes my blood boil.
But I force the voice away, pressing on, squiggling out my signature in shorthand as fast as possible before the voices get louder.
For Lauren, for Timur, and for my child.
Three lives for one.
My empire for their freedom.
I place the pen next to the signed contract, shutting the folder and handing it over to Aslanov. He takes it from me, his expression as cold as ice in the harsh flashlight beam. Even when the fucker’s grinning, there is something unnerving about him.
He can have what he wants.
He can take my life, my empire, but he cannot take my love for Lauren and our daughter.
Even in death, my heart will continue beating for them.
Always.