Chapter 9 Miko
MIKO
“Based on the businesses we’ve approached so far, it would seem that the Tanakas have poached at least half our revenue in town,” Raf confirms as he settles into the office chair beside Gio as my brothers face me across my desk at the end of another trying day.
To see exactly how hard the Yakuza have hit our pocketbooks, my brothers and our men have been visiting the stores under our protection downtown to assess how far they’ve infiltrated our territory.
And with the kind of losses we’ve sustained, not to mention the severe drop in manpower after losing so many of our soldiers, it’s going to take all our determination to get back on our feet and maintain the territory we still have.
“I’ve been on the phone with several of our benefactors,” I state, adding my own update to the family meeting.
“It would seem most of the families who paid tribute to Don Augusta are still willing to lend us their support—but as of right now, we don’t have enough to take back what we lost.” I glance toward Gio.
“The Lombardis indicated they would be more inclined to give us the full strength of their numbers if we would agree to a more… permanent alliance.”
Gio quirks an eyebrow at me, daring me to finish the thought. “Meaning?” he presses when I don’t continue.
Sighing, I scrub my forehead with my fingers before combing the hair back from my eyes. “Meaning, their daughter will be coming of age in just over a month, and they would very much like the future Don to take her as his wife.”
Raf snorts. “They’ve been working that angle since before Leo got engaged,” he says dryly.
“They are one of our strongest allies right now,” I point out.
But I know Gio, and I know how reluctant he is to taking a wife.
After losing the love of his life eight years ago, he’s been less than inclined to dip his toe into the marriage pool for any reason.
“Before we jump to drastic measures like making me marry a woman for her family’s soldiers, why don’t we focus on organizing the men we already have?” Gio suggests.
“We could figure out where the lesser Irish and Russian families stand on this whole conflict as well,” Raf adds.
“I imagine they won’t be too happy to see Yakuza territory spreading like wildfire, especially when it starts getting closer to their homes.
Miko, your wedding would be a perfect opportunity to feel out how the families who weren’t a part of the attack feel about the Murrays and the Tanakas right now. ”
I nod. “It’s a good next step. Make a list of who should attend—”
A sharp knock on the office door cuts me off, and our heads snap toward the interruption.
“Pronto?” I ask, inviting the knocker to enter.
My man Vito steps into the room, his shoulders tense. “A skirmish has broken out at the south entrance, Capo,” he says.
I frown, my skin tingling with a sense of foreboding. “Between the men?” Our men don’t usually fight among themselves.
“No, sir. It looks like a small force of Novikov men came to reclaim the compound. It won’t take much to subdue them. They don’t have the numbers. I just thought you would like to know. We’ve refocused our forces at the south entrance until it’s resolved.”
I give a curt nod, rising from my chair. “Make sure we keep eyes all along the perimeter, even so. It could be a diversion. I’ll come to see the disturbance myself.”
Gio and the twins rise with me, all four of us heading from the main house toward the south gate—a side entrance to the estate for the staff to come and go through from their quarters without disturbing the main house.
The sun hangs low along the tree line as we cross the wide expanse of lawn, and even from a distance, I can hear the shouts intermingled with occasional gunshots.
Whoever is trying to get onto the property doesn’t have a fraction of the force that was sent to the Chiaroscuro home, though.
And as we reach the south gate, I catch my first glimpse of the sorry excuse for a raid.
Several of their number lie bleeding near the gate, too injured to keep up with the rest of the men, who are already making a break for it as they call the retreat.
“Let them run,” I command the Chiaroscuro men who start to chase down the fleeing invaders. “They won’t be bothering us again anytime soon.”
Then I stop in front of an injured man. He’s clasping his thigh, just above where a bullet lodged itself in the thick muscle of his quad.
“Who do you work for?” I demand, crouching to reach his eye level.
“Go to hell, Mudak,” he hisses through teeth clenched in pain.
I share an amused glance with my brothers, then lean forward to grasp the Russian soldier’s wounded leg. He howls, throwing himself backward as he tries in vain to scramble away from me.
“Was that your entire crew?” I press.
“Yes, yes!” he screams, panting with relief when I release his leg as a reward for his answer.
“Who do you work for?” I repeat.
“Valentin,” he grits out. “Valentin Lebedev.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? And how many men does he command?”
The man shakes his head, so I reach for his wound once again.
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait!” he pleads. “I don’t know. Really. Before the raid, maybe twenty, thirty men? The captains were divided after the Pakhan died, so no one faction has all that many men.”
I share another glance with my brothers at the confirmation of our suspicions.
The Russian forces have split without Pyotr to unite them, their numbers too pathetic to offer much of a threat.
“And what would this Valentin give me in exchange for you, I wonder?”
The man swallows visibly, his face paling with fresh fear. That’s all the answer I need. Valentin isn’t a leader with much desire to bargain—that means any of his men who fall behind know they will be left there.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Dominik,” he says, his tongue clearly loosening.
“Well, Dominik, maybe now that your leaders have abandoned you, it would be an appropriate time to reflect on your life choices,” I point out. “Consider where your loyalties should lie.”
The man nods frantically, his expression turning pleading. “What are you going to do with me?”
Rising to my feet, I gesture to my men. “Take him inside and patch him up.”
“Miko, what the hell?” Sandro asks, his eyebrows buckling in disapproval.
I shrug. “We need men, right? What do I care if they’re Italian, Russian, or damn Martians? He can’t go back to his clan, so perhaps he’ll wise up and join us.”
Gio chuckles, and Raf gives a noncommittal shrug as he shares a glance with his twin.
Before Sandro can argue further, movement from the shadows along the property line catches my eye, and I turn my head to watch, my intuition tingling.
“What?” Gio asks, following my line of sight.
“Someone’s out there,” I state, taking a step toward the still trees.
Then I spot the source of movement, almost imperceptible beneath the dark canopy.
Creeping behind the sunless tree line is a slight figure.
They hug the shade, moving cautiously as they make their way toward the south entrance, where Valentin’s men fled.
Even in the deepening light of dusk, I recognize Anika’s slight frame, the careful way she treads across the ground—as if calling attention to herself might make her disappear entirely. She’s trying to make a break for it. Again.
“Take the wounded inside,” I command without letting her out of my sight. “I’ll deal with them later.”
My brothers’ protests fade into the background as I stalk toward the sneaky little mouse who thinks she can run from me.
She likely intends to ask her dead husband’s men for protection. But that’s not the Bratva way—not when their numbers are this divided.
Their dynamics are different from the Italian Mafia, which prizes respect for your superiors over all else. In the Bratva, strength is all that matters.
And claiming a Pakhan’s wife would be a display of power that could earn Valentin—or any man who takes Anika—a command they don’t yet possess.
Moving calmly, I watch my little mouse creeping toward her freedom.
A possessive desire to catch her—to keep her safe—surges through me.
She looks so delicate, so innocent in her efforts to run away, her blue eyes wide as her fingertips brush across the bark of trees as she whispers past them.
She doesn’t understand the ugly world that waits for her beyond the gates.
If she did, she wouldn’t be running.
“Where do you think you’re going, topolina?” I ask as I cut off her path of escape mere yards from the gate.
A gasp rushes past her full lips as Anika freezes.
She whips around to face me, her body tensing as her shoulders climb toward her ears.
Her eyes flick toward the way out—then the gap between me and the wall containing her.
I can see the calculation in her eyes, the way she measures her odds of making a successful break for it.
I read the exact moment she decides it’s worth the risk, and as she breaks into a run, I move to intercept her.
Closing the distance in three long strides, I snake my arm around her waist.
“Let me go!” she screams, squirming against me in her effort to break free once again.
I pull Anika back against my chest, and she whirls, her hands flying toward my face as she lashes out to claw at my eyes.
Grunting, I grab for her wrists as I back her firmly against the wall along the property line. Pinning her there with my hips, I try to get her under control.
“You can’t keep me here!” she cries, her fists pummeling my chest before I can trap her arms between us.
The scent of warm cinnamon and roses fills my nose, and the soft curves of her supple body rub against me, awakening a dark desire to claim her that I’d thought I had in check.
My cock swells in response, stiffening instinctively against her abdomen as her breasts heave into my chest, forming an enticing display of cleavage above the low neckline of her dress.
I want to show Anika the respect she deserves.