Chapter 3: Afanasy

Two months was the period I was given to get the project done—to round up a list of our debtors and make them pay up what they owed.

By any means necessary.

This was two weeks ago, and my team, headed by Yakov, had been busy making sure my instructions and that of the Pakhan's were carried out effectively.

This hadn't happened before—the Tarasov Bratva facing such a serious financial crisis. It was a blow to our organization, a disgrace to what we stood for, and I was more than ready to intervene.

Of course, nobody outside the board of directors knew exactly what was going on, hence the Bratva reputation was still intact. But still, it was too big a risk to remain in such a dire situation.

I seethed at the thought of debtors being brave enough to ignore their obligation to the Bratva. The idea that they were roaming free in the city and beyond without fear of the Bratva coming to collect filled me with rage.

My blood boiled, and my jaw clenched as I sat in my chair at the office.

Those sick fucks must think we'd grown soft or had forgotten about their debts, hence the reason for their nonchalance in paying back what they owed.

Our organization was notorious for its ruthlessness, cruelty, and zero tolerance toward debtors who refused to pay up.

Over the past two weeks, everyone on my list received a blunt reminder of how merciless we could be when it came down to business. They forgot that they were playing with fire, and it was time we made them feel the heat.

Yakov and his team unleashed hell's fury on those who refused to comply. Some begged for mercy, begged for more time, but the Bratva was fresh out of patience.

The chaos and destruction my men left in their wake sent a clear message to everyone in the city who had unfinished business with the Tarasov Bratva.

The fear of being our next target pushed a lot of them into compliance, and there was a massive inflow of funds into all of our accounts.

Those who went into hiding in the hopes of eluding my men were all fished out, one by one. Those who tried to escape were hunted down like animals.

It was a cold day in hell this past fortnight, and under my command, my men unleashed fire and brimstone, wreaking havoc and chaos wherever they went.

Afanasy Tarasov was the name on our debtors’ lips—the name that struck fear into their hearts on the realization that I was the man behind their pain and torment.

In the criminal underworld, my name spread like wildfire, inflicting horror on those whose names were on my list. They knew what fate awaited them should they not pay up what they owed.

They knew that I would come for them, and they trembled, knowing my methods would crush their spirits before my fists would shatter their bones.

The shadow world was ablaze with chaos and disorder as the Bratva's wrath stirred up a suffocating heat that everyone could feel. Our fury burned like hellfire, leaving no one untouched.

“Boss,” Yakov called, his thick voice dripping with reverence.

I snapped out of my thoughts, my eyes shifting across his face as he sat in the leather armchair in front of my desk.

Beside him sat Anatoli, a tall, skinny, bald man with a deceptively frail physique that made him appear weak when, in fact, he had the strength of four men.

His lanky frame often misled his opponents, causing them to underestimate him, oblivious to the danger he posed.

The man was a loyal foot soldier, one of the very few that I trusted.

I'd called them both to get a briefing on the project. I needed updates on the situation.

“The debtors have all complied,” Yakov said, sliding a file to my side of the table. “Every last one of them has paid their debts.”

I opened the file, scrutinizing the names and the payment amounts with a critical eye, astonished at the staggering debt total. This windfall would put our business back on track in no time.

As I peered at the scale of debt repayment, a small smirk played on the corners of my lips until my gaze fell upon one name whose debt was yet to be paid. “You said every last one of them had paid up.” I shot a glance at Yakov, my brows furrowing slightly.

“They all have, except for one man.” He adjusted in his chair, his eyes locked to mine. “Harrison Everett.”

I felt my blood boil with rage, prompting me to squint, wondering who this man was and why Yakov couldn’t get him to oblige the Bratva.

“Harrison Everett has proven…elusive,” Anatoli said, his tone laced with a glimmer of disappointment.

My eyes narrowed, and my forehead creased. “What do you mean elusive ?”

“He always slipped through our fingers, Boss,” Yakov began, his voice tinged with indignation and a hint of frustration. “The bastard had no definite location. He's always on the move.”

“We've tracked him to various cities, but he always has a way of vanishing before we can apprehend him,” said Anatoli, his gaze fixated on me.

“He's in the wind, Boss,” Yakov declared, his jaw subtly clenching.

This must be hard on him. Yakov never liked it when he lost a target, and this Harrison Everett seemed like a clever bastard.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers rubbing over the bridge of my nose as I pondered a solution. We’d secured the funds we needed to stabilize our business, but the idea that some idiot was still out there, eluding the Bratva, infuriated me.

The fool must think he was clever, but no matter how intelligent, he was bound to make a mistake. He'd slip up eventually, and I was banking on that.

I raised my eyes at Yakov. “Where was he last seen?” My voice was calm and calculating.

“53rd Street Boulevard,” he replied, withdrawing his phone from his pocket. “He went to visit his daughter.” Yakov passed his device to me.

My brows arched instantly, amusement washing over my face. Yakov should have just led with this. “He has a daughter?” I accepted the phone, eyes falling on the photo of a beautiful young woman with long dark hair and a pair of expressive brown eyes.

“Her name is Wren Everett,” Yakov added, reclining in his chair.

It didn't matter how beautiful she was with her petite frame and baby face. Her father owed us a large sum of money, and she was going to be the bait to lure him out of hiding.

I was looking to find Harrison's mistake, and now I just did.

My eyes left the photo and settled on Yakov. “She's our best shot at bringing her father in.” I shifted my gaze across the two of them, a sly grin playing on my lips. “If we take her, he'll be left with no choice but to surrender.”

“And then we'll take him instead,” Anatoli chipped in, a palm swiping his mouth.

“I'm on it.” Yakov groaned, attempting to stand.

“Don't bother,” I said, my eyes darting back to the photo of the woman on the phone in my hand. “I'll take care of this one myself.” I locked the phone screen and handed it back to him. “It's been a while since I was out in the field.” A devilish grin spread across my face as my fingers drummed over the mahogany table.

This should be fun.