Chapter 40 Alina
Alina
Three Months Later
The whole house smells like cigar smoke.
It’s always like this when the full bratva leadership gets together, which isn’t often for obvious reasons. A meeting like this is a ripe target for enemies.
Which is why about ten dozen armed men are lurking around the property.
I pace in the hallway outside the conference room. I hear the murmur of Russian and English leaking out from under the door. Seamus watches me, his face very calm, arms crossed over his chest.
“You know, unless I knew better, I’d say you’ve never done this before,” he comments.
I give him a look. “Hilarious.”
“Come on, you’re just about to establish the new Pakhan of the Morozov Bratva. No big deal at all. Happens once a generation.”
“You’re not helping.”
He gestures for me to come over. I lean up against his shoulder and try to steady myself.
I’m in an uncomfortable power suit, heels a little too high for my liking, hair slicked back and dangerous looking.
I’m going for a mix of chic and womanly.
Too feminine and the men won’t respect me.
Too masculine and they’ll think I’m trying to take power myself.
Not an easy balance. But then nothing’s been easy ever since my father died.
Except for this.
I breathe in Seamus’s smell. I let him hug me, and that helps calm me down a little bit. Through it all, he’s been my rock. He’s been my everything.
“You know, you could name whoever you want in there,” he says very softly.
“Yeah? So what?”
“I bet there are men who would happily take on the title of Pakhan while giving the real power over to a strong woman like you.”
I glance up at him. “Seriously?”
“Plenty of relationships work like that.” He shrugs, grinning widely. “What? I have personal experience.”
I sigh and lean my head back against the wall. “I don’t think I’d enjoy being the power behind the throne.”
“I’m just saying you could. You’d make a good leader. At least, a good puppet master. Your tits are too nice to be Pakhan.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I close my eyes. I picture all the work I’ve done to get to this moment. The negotiations. The hours spent in the hospital helping Taras with his physical therapy. The egos to soothe. The bribes, the gifts, the promises.
“I’m sure.”
“Good.” Seamus kisses me softly. “Then go fucking own them, baby.”
I stand up straight and nod to myself. I adjust my jacket, smooth my pants, and take a deep breath. I get a lungful of cigar smoke, cough a little, and fuck it, I shove straight into the room.
The sound of men talking and laughing is like a blast of cold water.
There are thirteen generals spread out in the room, some standing around the bar cart drinking vodka, others sitting at the table, also drinking vodka.
These are the most respected and powerful members of the Bratva.
Some came from across the country and a few are from overseas.
“Hey, balbesy, the meeting’s getting underway,” Viktor Morozov calls out. He’s a cousin of mine and one of my closest allies on the council.
The men watch as I walk to the head of the table. Yuri Volkov is sitting there, but he quickly stands and gives up the position with a nod and a wink. Another ally. We rehearsed this moment the night before. I shake his hand, and he sits to my left as the rest of the men gather around.
I stay on my feet. Otherwise, they’d all be looking down on me.
“Gaspoda, bratya, tovarishchi. I appreciate you all for coming tonight, especially those who had to travel far.”
“Anything for my comrades!” one drunken general calls out. He’s the leader of our family branch back in Moscow, and his cheeks are bright red.
There’s some laughter, and I wait for the men to settle. Once they’re all paying close attention, I spread my hands.
“You all know why we’re here. It has been three months since my father died. Three months without a true Pakhan is a very long time.”
There are murmurs throughout the room. “God rest his soul,” Viktor calls out, followed by more blessings in Russian and English. Once silence returns, I speak again.
“You all know about Taras’s terrible wound.
You’ve all heard of his time in the hospital, his struggle to heal, his miraculous recovery.
However, I’m here to make it clear that there was no miracle involved in Taras regaining his strength.
My brother worked harder than I’ve ever seen a man work in my life.
He bled, suffered, and sweated every day to reach this point.
And now, gaspoda, I am here to announce that he is ready. ”
More murmurs. These are subdued, however. I glance at several faces, men who had been pushing for a different Pakhan over the last few months. They don’t look happy, but there are only a few of them.
I continue my speech.
“Now we vote to confirm him. This is merely a formality. Once that’s finished, my brother is waiting in the courtyard where a tent has been prepared.
You will all go and induct him officially, using all methods and ceremonies required by the Bratva.
That is a place I will not go since it’s not my right.
But I will oversee his ascension here and now. All those against Taras, speak now.”
I wait. The quiet is oppressive. I had assumed at least one or two voices might raise, but no mouths open. I’m met with hard stares instead.
This is the customary way it’s done. Men take power—they aren’t voted into it. A challenge can be raised, but only by a general in good standing.
Otherwise, my father’s wishes will be upheld.
Taras will become the new Pakhan.
“Very good then,” I say softly, letting the gravity of the moment settle. I glance at Viktor. He’s grinning widely. It seems all our hard work paid off.
“Za Pakhanna!” my cousin shouts, raising a glass.
A chorus comes up as the men drink. Za Pakhanna, za Pakhanna, za Pakhanna! Laughter returns as the men begin puffing and drinking again, and I go around the room shaking hands. Even my former enemies have the good grace to congratulate me.
They all know this was my doing.
I could’ve let Taras rot. Nobody would’ve blamed me if I decided to find a way to step into the power vacuum like Seamus suggested in the hallway.
But even though Taras and I were never close, he’s still family.
I learned the hard way that family is more important than anything else.
I worked my ass off to help Taras recover as quickly as he could. I played the politics game behind the scenes. I threatened, bought, and did what I could.
All for this night.
I drink a couple of shots along with the men before they filter out of the room, leaving a mess behind.
“Well done, Matushka,” Viktor says once everyone else is gone. “You belong in the tent as well tonight.”
“But that’s not how it works. My part’s over now. I won, and that’s good enough for me.”
Viktor nods once, grinning slightly. “But now if there’s ever a problem, I know who I should go to.”
I groan and try to tell him to throw that thought in the trash, but he’s already walking off.
Seamus appears once he’s gone. He sits in a chair and pulls me down into his lap. The Russian men look at me like a big, strong woman, or maybe a little mother like Viktor just called me, but Seamus sees who I really am.
Just Alina. Organized, scheduled, and deeply in love, Alina.
I kiss my husband as his fingers press into my legs. “Based on the number of drunk Russian men storming out to where Taras is waiting, I take it that went well.”
“Better than expected, if I’m honest.”
“Congratulations then.”
“I’m just happy it’s over.”
“Really? You were so good at it.”
“I’ll leave the crime world to you.” I kiss him deeply and lean my forehead against his. “We have a family to build, right?”
“I take it that’s an invitation to have even more sex than we already do.”
“I’m not sure I could physically stand more.”
“Oh, trust me. You’d be surprised.” He kisses me again, deep and hard.
And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I’d be surprised at all.