Chapter 11
One Month Later
“Ready?”
I scan the group of three surrounding me. All of whom have agreed to become my Elite, to replace those who my father trusted most. When I walk into that meeting room, a statement will be made. A statement no one in there will like, not that I give a fuck.
After the past two months of constant training and moving into Papa’s role, I’ve also learned a lot about myself and the organization. Trust is invaluable in this position, and I’ll only surround myself with people who have mine.
In the past three months, I have changed plenty. No longer the woman who bowed to her father’s whims. Who bit her tongue and smiled when she was ordered to. That was who I was. Papa’s pawn, moved around the board according to his command. Playing pretty to lure in a suitable husband.
That’s the persona I was still portraying when I entered the meeting room three months ago and demanded Papa’s heads recognize me as the new Pakhan. How silly I was even then, to entertain the notion of having to prove myself to anyone when this position is mine by birthright. Mine, and I don’t need to justify why it is.
It’s that woman they’re all expecting to enter that room, but I’ve transformed. Because contrary to what they all believe, I’m fucking smart. I had to change, to become someone I’ve always wanted to embrace, in order to make the other necessary organizational modifications. The Bratva can’t continue how it’s been functioning. There’s better paths, and it’s those I’ve begun paving, making this meeting a mere formality and nothing more.
When everyone behind those double doors doubted me, I rose to the challenge. Dozens murdered at my hand. Every bank statement from every single account the Bratva has—offshore ones as well—I’d read. Every email sent, every deal signed, I’ve reviewed. I learned the organization inside and out and rose to every single challenge thrown my way.
“Da,” I answer whoever asked it. So lost in my thoughts, I’m not paying attention to anything but one fact: success.
I move toward the doorway, hands brushing over both my thighs. My favourite knife is strapped into one holster, and the gun that shot my first kill is in the opposite one. Both of these will be used tonight, and after reviewing all the files I have over the months, shit about some of the men inside came to light. My next mark had a target on his forehead the second I saw his signature.
By my right and one step behind, Dimitri reaches for the door. He’ll always be my right-hand man, and after today, it’s official. Anastasia and Lev bring up the rear. Lev, already pissing off his father by aligning with me and not inside with the “others,” and Anastasia, since I’m now being blamed for her new involvement in the Bratva—as though she wasn’t already.
“Do you remember,” she murmurs, “the text I sent you that day in response to yours, when you were in New York?”
“Vividly.” It was in reply to a picture I texted her of me lounging by Erico Rossi’s outdoor pool, waiting for him to eventually emerge from his office and find me in his wife’s place.
Anastasia:
When will you have the life you want rather than the life your father wants for you?
“Just happy you’re chasing the life you deserve,” she comments.
The twins have agreed to take on the duty of being my two Spies, effectively replacing Ivan’s position. One Spy watches over my security group and handles the day-to-day operations, which will be Anastasia since her knowledge of the Bratva in general and her gritty insights into what’s been going on will be valuable. That’s on top of the extra job she’s willingly and happily taken on: managing the transition from trafficking to brothels. And while she still continues her ballet performances because she genuinely enjoys them.
Lev is managing the support group, which handles all the criminal activities the Bratva has their hand in. His technical skills will streamline so many of the processes, and he’s already respected among many of the employees he’ll be overseeing, making it an easy and ideal match.
Dimitri opens the double doors, silencing the bustle of talking inside. No one’s sitting, and my uncle stands by the head of the long table, apparently trying to claim direction of this meeting.
But there is no meeting needed. Three months ago, I agreed to a trial to prove myself, and if I wasn’t up to standards by now, they would have already gotten rid of me. The fact I’m still alive speaks volumes.
“Plemyannitsa,” my uncle greets, shoving away from his leaning position over the long table. Calling me niece is a power move on his part. A way to make it known he isn’t viewing me as an equal.
“Ivan.” I stalk the length of the table alone, my Elite remaining by the door, ready to take the seats of the others when they clear out. Once at the head, I nudge my uncle away with a hard stare and a firm stance. My heels are so high—courtesy of Anastasia’s closet—but chosen for a reason: to put me a couple inches taller than him.
I flick my fingers his way until he gets the hint and moves away, his sneer a mixture of respect and hatred. Once he’s completely gone, I face all the others, sharp blood-red nails making a rhythmic scraping along the table’s surface.
“Let’s get this underway, why don’t we? It’s obvious you all will list every reason I shouldn’t continue as Pakhan, so shout them out now.” I make a show of spreading my hands apart, palms up, granting them the floor.
No one talks. They all stare at my uncle. Cowards.
“This isn’t right, Vanessa,” Ivan pleads for the group. “We have already decided three months ago that no matter how much you are your father’s daughter, we must consider the rest of the world. How will it look to the other crime families if a woman is leading us?”
I purse my lips in fake consideration. “They could see us as an example. Maybe more women will step up.”
He rolls his eyes. “The Bratva isn’t a place for you to spout your feminist shit.”
I let the insult slide off me in order to still pretend that they need convincing of my suitability, even though it’s long been decided. They’ll have to put a bullet in my head before I step down and hand Papa’s throne off to someone else.
“While Papa enjoyed managing the Bratva from the safety of his office, behind thick, brick walls and bulletproof windows, and having his Brigadiers control the soldiers,” I scan those very same Brigadiers, “ I have not. Over the past three months, I met with every single person in the Bratva’s employ. I’ve witnessed and contributed to the betting pot of the underground fight rings myself. Have toured every drug facility we own and signed off on dozens of skin trade deals.” I despised signing off on them but did so only to continue playing the part needed at the time. They’re being closely tracked ever since the women have left our sight and intercepting them is already in motion because after I’m done appeasing these fuckers, they’re being brought home. “And I’ve personally saw to the execution of dozens. Other than not having a cock between my legs, give me one reason I’m unfit for this job.”
Silence.
One second passes.
Two.
Three, and still nothing.
I smile. “Good. So this is how it’ll go: to ease your minds, operations will continue as normal. I am not changing those. They have led the Bratva into great prosperity over the years and will continue to do so. But there is one modification I am implementing, effective immediately.” I find a balding man directly to my right, having unfortunately witnessed his enjoyment of the captured women and children by video. Sick fucker. “The trafficking ring is ending immediately.”
He immediately throws his hands in the air and curses while Ivan comes closer. “Foolish girl. You realize that makes the Bratva millions each year? You will cost us with that single move.”
After pushing my uncle away, I silence the rest of the outcries with a single glare. “The children in our custody will be returned to their families and I am personally overseeing the hiring of both a female medical doctor and a psychologist to support their transition. Every family we stole from will be given a lump sum of money to support any future mental health needs of those children, provided the Bratva and all mention of anyone here remains out of their mouths. This is non-negotiable.” I stare at the sick fucker to my right when I add, “Anyone who enjoys sexualizing children will not be tolerated in my organization. These changes also go for previously-sold children. A private team is already working on tracking each one of them down.” With assistance of Lev, who, with the bill of sales I’ve dug up, is able to trace the owners.
“Vanessa—”
“Silence.” My hand slashes the air, shutting my uncle up. “The tourists—same thing. After being checked, they are on a one-way private flight back to their home country with a payout for their silence. People visit our beautiful country to explore; therefore, we will never again be kidnapping women and preventing them from living their lives.” I pause, granting space for more complaints, but none come. “As for the locals…instead of trafficking rings, brothels will be opened up in their places to ensure the Bratva does not lose the millions of dollars they brought in. Even with my feminist ideals .” My cold glare finds Ivan. “I understand the profitability in sex work, which is why this modification. The locals will have a choice. They can return to their lives, freed, or they can work as paid employees in the new brothels. More will be hired, both men and women, to serve any and all experiences customers may want. With the doctor I’ll have on retainer, the employees will receive ongoing medical attention, contraceptives, and fair treatment. Anyone who denies the offer goes home, no questions asked. Anastasia will be in charge of this transition.” I glance down the strip of the table, catching her father’s widening eyes.
Countless Russian slurs get thrown my way and for a moment, I allow them. Let the old assholes work out their anger before I really get them going.
“But what I do or don’t do no longer matters to any of you,” I continue, voice gentler and more patronizing than earlier. “Because you’re all fired. Non-negotiable. This instance. You were my father’s inner circle, therefore you are not mine. You walk away in the next three minutes or you don’t walk away at all. Your decision.”
And then I drop into the chair, kicking my heels over the tabletop and wait for the bitching to end. I make a show of removing a blade from my left holster and nicking beneath my freshly done gel nails. I’ll need this knife nice and sharp to protect me against the numerous enemies I’ve just gained. Given that these Brigadiers have been around for decades, they have connections that go far and deep, who’ll no doubt soon be coming for me in revenge.
My uncle slams his hand onto the table, looking from me to his son. “ You , fucking predatel' . You could have had the motherfucking world beneath you and yet you help her? ”
Dimitri walks toward the table’s edge and drops his body weight onto it, palms on the surface, as he leans opposite his father. His chin lowers, eyes getting darker in a way that has nothing to do with the dim lighting within the room. I’ve seen this look before, when he’s readying to kill.
“I had the world,” he replies, dredging up my curiosity for the meaning behind his statement. “You molded me into what I am now, so da , I’m helping her. Vanessa is more than capable of being Pakhan. She’s my leader and there’s nothing more to say. If you continue to defy her orders, I’ll escort you out myself, Otets , but I can’t guarantee you’ll like it when I do.”
Ivan’s face flushes red and he slams a fist down onto the table in response. And then again for a different reason, when one of the men heads toward the door. “Where the hell are you going?”
The Brigadier holds up a single hand, replying to Ivan but looking at me. “I’m retiring. My Pakhan died, and I’m no longer needed.” He nods at me before rushing out of the room.
Another follows close behind without a word.
Then the child rapist to my right moves away with a sneer. Finally, there’s an understanding that there is no other option for any of them. But this one specifically isn’t allowed to leave quite yet, so before he gets too far away, I lunge to my feet and stab the blade into the table through his hand.
He howls, ripping at his hand, which only does more harm by tearing the skin.
I settle back into my chair again and reposition my feet on the table as I gesture to the seat beside me. “Sit.”
Ivan comes into view, his face red and puffy, like a balloon about to explode. “He is one of your father’s trusted men. Is that any way to pay him respect?”
For this, I stand again, gun in hand, cocked, and pressed into his chest. A movement similar to what they all witnessed three months ago, only this time, there is no falter in my arm. My weakness doesn’t keep me down. My finger flexes over the trigger, eyebrow cocking in a want me to? question.
Ivan’s lips press together, eyes flickering to the gun. “You won’t kill family.”
He’s correct because his death is owed to his son. Even if I’m unaware of the complete history between them, I know that much. “Who knows.” I shrug, taunting the concept of his death. “You will stop speaking to me with so much disrespect. You’ve certainly become braver without my father around. If I haven’t already made it clear, you are done, Ivan. As for him...” I tip my head to the right, indicating the asshole panting in pain as his blood seeps over my table. “He’s a child rapist and those have no place in my world. He’s the reason so many of those kids are plagued with nightmares. And those are only the invisible scars. A knife in the hand isn’t even an ounce of the physical pain he’s caused.”
The fucker’s face is a pale white now, his breaths becoming laboured as a dazed, confused stare locks onto the knife. Death by blood loss is way kinder than he deserves, but it’s all I’ll have time for today.
“Leave, Ivan. Now.”
I almost expect another argument, but he finally obeys, shoving away from the table with a loud huff and then glaring at Dimitri as he stalks by. “You will get what’s coming to you, Volkov. Just wait.”
“Sounds like a threat, dyadya . If it is, you should know, I get rid of threats.”
The door shuts for the final time, and it’s only my Elite and the rapist left. I pace to the half-dead man’s backside. After ripping the knife from his hand with a loud squelch that has him moaning in pain, I lean over his back, wondering if he’s conscious enough to hear me.
“You know what you’ve done so I’m not wasting my time by keeping you alive longer than needed. For those kids, you deserve to enter ad one body part at a time, but I need to move this along so—” With the blood-soaked knife, I drag it along the front of his neck.
A slice.
A gasp.
A body sliding from the seat and landing on the floor, his blood pooling beneath my shoes.
I walk through the crimson liquid and reclaim my seat, gesturing toward my three Elite with the knife.
“Sit. We have work to do.”