CHAPTER 5
Rodian
Walking into the kitchen, I see my mug standing ready by the machine, and it brings a smile to my face.
After pouring some coffee, I stand by the window and look out over the garden where autumn has changed the landscape from green to colorful browns, oranges, and reds.
Soon winter will be here.
Movement catches my eye, and I watch as Artem takes a walk from flowerbed to flowerbed, stopping every couple of steps to inspect a bug or something that’s caught his attention.
Even though he’s thirty-three, he looks much younger, and his anxiety disorder has made him very skittish of people. He only interacts with his mom, my parents, and me.
My cousin glances over his shoulder, and spotting Pavel, one of the new guards who’s busy doing a perimeter walk, he makes a beeline for the house.
I hurry to the back door, and opening it, I call out, “Pavel, whenever you see Artem, give him privacy and move to the front.”
“Yes, boss.”
The guard jogs away while I step outside, and as Artem comes to a stop near me, he looks to the side while scratching his head. “There was a grasshopper.”
Placing my arm around his shoulders, I give him a sideways hug. “Show me, Bratishka.”
He loves it when I call him ‘little brother,’ and it makes a crooked smile form on his face.
Lifting his head, he meets my eyes while he mumbles, “It’s brown.”
Seeing the torment in his gaze, my heart squeezes, and I wish I had the power to give him the peace he so desperately needs.
We go to the spot where Artem last saw the insect, and I crouch beside him. While he searches the shrubs, I take a good look at him.
Not liking the dark circles under his eyes, I keep my tone soft as I ask, “How are you sleeping?”
My cousin just shrugs, then his eyes widen, and he points at a bunch of leaves. “There!”
For the next five minutes, Artem tells me everything he knows about grasshoppers while I drink the last of my coffee.
My phone rings, and it cuts Artem off mid-sentence, making him hunch his shoulders as he starts drawing squiggly patterns in the sand with his pointer finger.
I ruffle his hair as I get up and take the call. “Volkov.”
“They’re all here,” Andrei informs me.
My gaze touches on Artem before glancing back at the mansion. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
Tucking the phone away, I tell my cousin, “Go grab your coat. It’s time for the trip I promised you.”
“I’m going in a plane today?” he asks, excitement exploding over his face.
When I nod, he runs into the house, and I hear him shout, “Mam, we’re going on the trip now!”
Today is the day I’ve been working toward since I became the underboss. It’s taken me years to gather enough men who would be willing to go up against Yegor’s loyal soldiers, and because the old man fucked up and pissed off the Cosa Nostra, I have them and their allies backing me.
All hell will break loose in the Bratva, and I want my family up in the air while the worst of it goes down, not stuck on the ground where they can be targeted.
Heading through the house, I open the front door and call out, “It’s time, Vadim. Get the men ready.”
While Andrei and Sergei are staying with me, Vadim, who’s in charge of security here at the estate, and my entire team of guards will accompany my family to keep them safe.
My men begin moving, opening the doors to the armored SUVs and checking their weapons.
“Are you sure about this, son?” my father asks from behind me, his tone tense with worry.
Honestly, Artem takes more after my dad than his own father, and I’m more like my late uncle. Dad has never been a part of the Bratva and finds endless joy in gardening.
“We have no choice,” I answer as I turn around to look at him. “You’ll be safe up in the air while the worst goes down. Only Vadim knows the destination.” I place my hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Enjoy the vacation.”
Worry has darkened my father’s eyes, and the corners of his mouth tremble slightly. “How can I enjoy a vacation knowing the danger you will face?”
We stare at each other for a long moment until it’s broken by my mother and aunt hurrying down the grand staircase.
“Artem,” Aunt Marina calls, panic lacing her tone.
“I’m here, Mam,” my cousin suddenly replies from the open front door behind me.
Aunt Marina calms when she sees him, and stepping closer to me, she lifts her hand and pats my cheek softly. “Your uncle would be very proud of you.” Her gaze stays locked on mine for a moment longer, then she says, “If anyone can take down Fedorov, it’s you.”
Unlike my mother, Aunt Marina was raised in the Bratva, so she’s tougher and understands how most of the politics work.
My aunt moves past me and gestures for Artem to walk with her so I can have a moment alone with my parents.
Mom takes a deep breath and glances around the foyer before she meets my gaze, then her chin quivers and her eyes begin to shine with unshed tears.
When I discovered Yegor was behind the disappearance of one of the Cosa Nostra’s capos, I formed an alliance with them. Mom begged me not to go through with the war.
I’m well aware many will die today, but there’s no turning back. This isn’t for me. It’s for the future of the Bratva and the families who depend on the organization.
New leadership is long overdue. We have to move away from sex slavery and human trafficking. It sickens me that more than half our income still comes from those operations when there are billions to be made manufacturing weapons.
The Cosa Nostra aren’t backing me just because they want revenge against Yegor.
The Bulgarians, Romanians, Turks, and Yakuza have also thrown their support behind this war because they see the same future I do.
Once Yegor is gone, they’ll have a reliable supplier capable of manufacturing the volume of weapons they need instead of relying on scattered shipments from smugglers.
It’s a future worth going to war for.
Reaching for Mom, I pull her into a hug and say, “Try not to worry. Today will be successful.”
She grips me tightly, letting out a soft sob. “I won’t survive losing you.”
“I’m not going to die.” I push her backward so I can lock eyes with her. “With the other organizations backing me, Yegor is outnumbered. It will all be over in an hour.”
Not having much of a choice, Mom latches onto the hope. When I lean down and press a kiss to her temple, she peppers my cheeks with kisses and gives me two hugs. “I love you more than anything, Rodian. Call me as soon as you’re able to. Please.”
“I will.”
Covering her mouth, Mom rushes out of the house to where Aunt Marina is waiting with open arms to comfort her.
I exhale slowly while turning my attention to my father. His coloring is gray from all the worry, and I can see he’s struggling to control his emotions.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper.
He nods, then pats my shoulder. Just as he begins to walk, he pauses to haul me into a hug. A rough breath escapes him, then he pulls away and rushes out of the front door.
While my family climbs into the SUVs, I pull my phone out to call Andrei.
“Wait!” Artem shouts before running toward me. My cousin grabs my hand and shoves a scrap of paper into it. “Keep it on you at all times for protection.”
While he goes back to the SUV and gets in beside Aunt Marina, I look down at the paper and see it’s a cut-out of an eight-pointed star.
As the engines start, my fingers close around the paper and I press my fist to my heart while watching my family leave.
When I see them again, I’ll be the pakhan, the most powerful man in the Bratva.
Anastasia
Hanging the laundry, the autumn sun barely registers as it warms my skin.
The brick mansion behind me has been my prison ever since I returned to Russia.
There was no arranged marriage. My grandfather took one look at me and told my mother to remove me from his sight, or he would put a bullet in me.
Instead of being a bargaining chip for the great Fedorov family, I’m a disgrace. Not a day has passed where they’ve let me forget it.
“The guests will arrive soon!” Ms. Fedorova shouts angrily from the back door.
Right after my grandfather rejected me, she told me never to call her mother again, because I haven’t earned the right. I have to address her as Ms. Fedorova, as she took back her maiden name after my father was killed by the Cosa Nostra a few years ago.
I glance in her direction, and seeing the hateful expression on her face, my muscles tense with apprehension.
Here we go again.
“You better start preparing dinner, tolstukha. I swear if you embarrass me tonight, I’ll… I’ll…” Her temper spirals out of control, and she storms toward me.
Just like every other time she’s hit me, I’m unable to cower or beg for mercy. Instead, I stare her dead in the eye even though I know it will anger her more.
You’d think after five years I would’ve learned pissing off my mother never ends well for me. I can’t help myself.
Although she calls me ‘fatso’ every chance she gets and abuses me daily, there’s a stubbornness that’s taken up residence in my chest, and it refuses to bend the knee.
The sounds of the slaps as her hand connects over and over with my cheek echo across the backyard while the sharp burns seep into my skin and force my head to the side.
A thousand comebacks gather on the tip of my tongue, but I manage to keep from saying any of them and digging a deeper hole for myself.
Dropping the wet towel in the basket, I begin to walk to the house so I can prepare dinner, but my feet instantly halt when Ms. Fedorova shrieks, “Are you fucking stupid? Finish hanging the laundry!”
Letting out a heavy sigh, I turn around and bend to pick up the towel again.
Suddenly she grabs me by the hair and yanks me backward. I instinctively grip hold of her arm, my gaze connecting with hers.
“Stop testing me, tolstukha,” she hisses as she leans down to get in my face. “You’re only alive because you’re of some worth to me as a maid.” The sharp smell of vodka on her breath wafts up my nose, telling me she’s started drinking early today.
Just bloody great. It’s going to be a long night.