4. Maxim
CHAPTER FOUR
maxim
I leaned against the grimy leather booth in the back of the club, scanning the room. New York differed from San Diego, where everything had sharp edges and glitter, but it was still built on the same foundation—power, influence, and fear. The bratva here was just as the boys said — fractured, led by weak men with big mouths and little reach, ripe for the taking. That was why I was here, after all.
The thought of it excited me, and nothing had truly excited me in years.
Beside me, Lev leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his hawk-like gaze on the room. Lev had been my right hand since I was young. He glanced over, raising one eyebrow as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“So,” Lev said, voice low, “you plan to sit here all night and brood, or are we going to make a move on this place? Get our blood pumping?”
I smirked. “Well, you know that this brooding look works, Lev. It gets people nervous. People make mistakes when they’re nervous.”
Lev rolled his eyes. “You know what else makes people nervous? A couple of Russians kicking in doors.”
Lev wasn’t much for standing still and doing nothing. He was ready for action and knocking some heads together. Things had been a little stale lately on the West Coast, and he hoped for blood and guts in this takeover.
“Patience, Lev. I need to get the lay of the land. Can’t charge in like bulls,” I teased.
Lev snorted. “Sure.”
I glanced at the bar, tracking the men gathered there. A cluster of bratva lieutenants sat around the corner, oblivious to us for now, caught up in their petty conversations. The head of this fractured crew, Vladimir Slavsky, was set to arrive any minute, thinking we’d come here to discuss terms for a partnership. What a laugh. The fool didn’t realize we were here to kick him to the curb.
If this were my territory, no way would I allow some mudaks like us into my joint without being challenged. They were fools. If Slavsky had any brains at all, he should have known what was about to happen. A Volkov at his gates? Fucker should have shot me on sight.
“Here he comes,” Lev muttered, nodding toward the door.
I straightened, my eyes narrowing as Vladimir strode in, a thick coat draped over his shoulders and two guards flanking him. He scanned the room briefly, but I didn’t miss how his eyes skimmed over us carelessly. Vladimir was too confident for a man with so little power and so little control over his men. I’d already bribed half of them, and the other half had already agreed to work with us.
“Maxim Volkov,” Vladimir drawled as he approached. “I was surprised when I heard you wanted to meet.”
I offered a thin smile. “I thought it was time we cleared the air.”
His eyes flicked to Lev, dismissing him immediately, and my respect for him waned further. It was a mistake that was going to cost him.
Vladimir leaned against the table, trying to look casual. “Clearing the air… That’s a polite way of saying you want in on my territory. You’re not the first man to try, Volkov. New York’s different from your little operation out West in the sunshine and the beaches. We don’t take kindly to outsiders.”
“Outsiders?” I echoed, feigning surprise. “Last time I checked, the bratva doesn’t recognize borders. And from what I hear, Slavsky, your bratva hasn’t successfully held on to your territory.”
Vladimir bristled, his hand twitching toward his belt before he stopped himself. Lev’s eyes caught the movement, and he stepped closer on guard if Vladimir decided to pull his piece.
“Let’s keep this civil,” Vladimir sneered. “What do you want exactly? A piece of the action?”
My elbows rested on the table as I leaned forward. “Civil? By all means, let’s keep it civil. Here’s my offer—I take over your territory, and you get a choice. Walk away now, and I’ll let you live. Stay… and I’ll be less generous.”
Vladimir made a short, harsh sound. “You think you can just waltz in here and take over? You can’t be serious.”
I tilted my head, giving him a cold, appraising look. “Yes.”
Lev was already moving before Vladimir’s hand finished reaching for his gun. In one swift motion, Lev twisted his wrist behind Vladimir’s back, forcing him to his knees. The guards snapped into action, but I didn’t give them a chance. I stood, throwing a punch into the jaw of the nearest man, then drove my knee into his stomach before pulling out my H now, it’s mine. You were too weak to hold it.”
Vladimir’s face twisted with fury. “You won’t get away with this. New York isn’t like fucking Hollywood. You’ll never have control here.”
I sighed, glancing at Lev. “You hear that, Lev? He doesn’t think we can take control.”
Lev grinned, giving Vladimir’s arm a painful twist. “Maybe we should show him otherwise?”
“Good idea,” I agreed. I reached into my pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. “This is a list of your allies. Those who aren’t with me by midnight will be dealt with. One way or another, you’re done here, Vladimir.”
“You’re insane,” Vladimir spat. “They’ll come for you.”
I gave him a thin smile. “Let them try.” I wasn’t sure who Vladimir thought ‘they’ were, but his bratva here was a joke. He shouldn’t have even been calling himself a pakhan. I would give his men a chance to prove they could be part of the Volkov Bratva, and then we’d weed out the disloyal ones.
With a nod, Lev hauled Vladimir to his feet and pushed him toward the exit. “Consider this your farewell tour, Vladimir. Get out of New York, and if I see you again, it’ll be the last time you breathe fresh air.”
I kept my promises. He could walk out a free man.
As Vladimir stumbled out, cursing, Lev straightened his jacket and shot me a satisfied look. “Not bad for a night’s work.”
I chuckled, finally pulling out my cigarette and lighting it. “Well, Lev, I think New York is starting to feel like home. Wish I could have killed that mudak, but I keep my word. Maybe he’ll have an accident soon.” I emphasized the last part, knowing that Lev would catch my drift.
“You got it, pakhan.” Lev winked, telling me we were on the same wavelength. “It’d be most unfortunate, but the world is a dangerous place.”
I recognized a few of the men we’d spoken to in Slavsky’s ranks. They stood at attention.
“Pakhan,” a man said, bowing his head. “Your orders?”
“Clean this shit up.” I lit a cigarette as I indicated the bodies. “Lev will be in touch.”
Around us, a few curious onlookers peered cautiously out of alleys, their faces lit with nervous energy as they realized this part of New York had a new owner. I took a long drag on my cigarette, ignoring the weight of their stares.
Lev’s mouth quirked into a grin, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as we left the club. He scanned the empty street.
“What now?” he murmured, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.
I exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke into the chilly night air, feeling the rush of satisfaction. “Now, we send a message. Call the men. I want them to hit all of Vladimir’s operations—ports, warehouses, and clubs. Silence any resistance before anyone has a chance to sound the alarm.”
Lev nodded quickly, his bloodthirsty grin wide. “All at once?”
I flicked the cigarette to the gutter and ground it with my heel, a slow smile creeping over my face. “All at once. Vladimir’s men swear loyalty or get out of our district. No exceptions. Any resistance at all — wipe it out.”
Lev didn’t hesitate, already barking orders on his phone in clipped Russian, his voice sharp and decisive. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, savoring the anticipation building in my chest. Taking the bratva here in New York wasn’t just about Vladimir. It was time to show people what operating under the Volkov Bratva meant.
“Vlad’s men are heading for the East River docks,” Lev said, his phone pressed to his ear. “Kolya’s crew will take Queens.”
“Perfect.” I nodded, watching the night absorb his words. “Ask Conall’s men to support. Make sure there’s no chatter. We don’t want a word out until it’s done.”
Lev smirked. “Nothing like a clean slate.”
The crisp air felt charged with purpose as we stepped out of the alley, our car just across the street. We were halfway there when Lev stopped short, his eyes narrowing at a figure lurking near the doorway. I knew him before I even saw his face.
Dante Caruso.
I took in his smirking expression, the easy stance. He was more of a snake than an enforcer, but that hadn’t stopped the low-level asshole from sneaking around and causing problems. Even as a teenager, he was a thorn in our sides. He worked with the Olivetos if memory served and wouldn’t work with Angelo if he were starving. I never had figured out why he hated us so much.
“Well, well,” Dante drawled, his voice low and taunting. “So it’s true.”
I met his stare head-on, my voice sharp. “Caruso. You should know better than to slink around in shadows. I could have shot you. You know … by mistake. What a shame that would be.” We both knew I didn’t mean it.
He just laughed, shaking his head. “Not sneaking, Volkov. Just here to let you know you aren’t welcome in this city. You should have stayed out West and away from here. Or died,” he said maliciously.
I stepped toward him and said, “I couldn’t care less what you think. I’m here to stay. You can tell that to the Olivetos.”
Dante’s face tightened, but he masked it quickly, his easy smirk snapping back into place. “Is that so? Plenty of people around here might take issue with a Volkov taking a seat at their table. You’re all dirty scum. All the Volkovs are. Like your father.”
The dig hit hard. I was nothing like my father. The man was a piece of shit.
I felt Lev tense beside me, his hand drifting subtly toward his side, but I raised a hand, keeping my gaze steady on Dante. If I couldn’t handle Dante Caruso on my own, then I shouldn’t be a pakhan. “New York’s changing. I don’t care who has an issue with me being at the table.”
Dante’s smirk faltered briefly before he laughed, low and quiet. “You’re a stain. You and your pops did unspeakable things. You’re no man. One day, I’ll make sure that everyone knows it.”
I said nothing, just kept my eyes trained on him as he shook his head and turned, fading into the night’s shadows. When he was gone, I glanced at Lev; his eyes were slick with hate as he looked after Dante. Both Lev and I had our reasons for hating my father and the things he had done. To be blamed for the small parts that we had to play was unfounded and unkind. That asshole didn’t know what he was talking about, but still, my gut twisted with the words that Dante had thrown into the universe.
Fucking Dante Caruso.
I was sure that other people thought I should have made a move sooner than I had.
Done more.
When I was twenty-one, I’d barely scraped together enough power and backing to keep myself and my brother alive. Youngest pakhan ever in the history of the bratva. If I had been alone, without Dimitri to worry about, maybe I could have found a way to end my father sooner.
Fuck Dante Caruso.
“He’s a problem,” Lev muttered, his tone dark.
“Yeah.” I acknowledged before stepping toward the car. There wasn’t much right now that we could do about Dante hating that we were back in New York. We had another focus right now. I’d worry about Dante later. It wasn’t like I could take him out unless we wanted war with the Olivetos. “I want Vladimir’s men to feel the shift by dawn,” I said, pulling our focus back to the job at hand.
Lev’s grin matched mine as he slipped behind the wheel. “They won’t know what hit them.”
The hours blurred together as we drove between districts, our men slipping into Vladimir’s old haunts and bringing his empire under our control one step at a time. Each warehouse, dock, and club fell into place, the pieces clicking together like they were always meant to be mine. By the time we were done, the city was silent, the weight of our work hanging over New York like a new bloody dawn.
At sunrise, I stood in the courtyard of my new townhouse in Manhattan, the first light gleaming off skyscrapers in the distance. My phone buzzed, Lev’s message glowing on the screen: It’s done. New York is ours.
I pocketed my phone, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. New York might be a beast, but now? It was my beast. And this was only the beginning.
Me: done
Conall: elaborate, you tool, it’s six in the morning
Me: took over Vlad’s operation
Conall: good for you
Angelo: took you long enough
Me: it’s only been a month
Ilias: I’d have done it in a week
Conall: you want a cookie or something?
Me: yes
Ilias:
Me: I hate you all