Chapter 8: Artem

"They gunned down Udinov, and we recorded about fifteen men injured," Anatoli, one of my second cousins, said, directing his statement to me.

"Those fuckers will pay for what they did," Kostya replied to him, his fingers rolling into a fist. He didn't have to say it, but I knew he was still pissed about the death of that singer, amongst other things.

I had everything planned out, the perfect retaliation: to hit the Irish where it hurt. They wouldn't see it coming until it was too late. Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, and I was already cooking.

My fingers drummed on the mahogany table in front of me as I watched the fifteen inner circle members deliberate on how to exert revenge. Each of the men present in this room had managed to gain my trust, and now, they were a part of every huge decision the Tarasovs were going to make, like this one, for example.

My men were angry, and I could see the rage burning in their eyes; they were itching for a rematch. Anatoli had even suggested bombing the Donovan mansion to send a message to other gangs thinking of making us enemies.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Alexander said, stroking his long beard. "These mindless animals need a drastic move before they can understand that we mean business."

I had been quiet for a while, but now they paused and turned in my direction.

"What do you say, Pakhan ?" Anatoli asked.

"You're right. You're all right," I said. "They started this war, and we're gonna finish it, but we're playing this game my way. They don't think before they act; we do, and that's what we have as an edge over them. We'll use that to our advantage and strike when they least expect it."

"So, we're standing down?" Anatoli asked, disappointment coloring his eyes.

"Not exactly," I said. "We're strategizing." I shifted my gaze across their faces. "The Irish think we'll retaliate immediately; therefore, they'd be waiting for our attack, doubling their defenses in preparation. Going after them now will only make us pawns on a chessboard. We don't play their game; they play ours."

"Delaying our retaliation will upset them, keep them guessing what our next move will be," Kostya added, further bolstering my point.

"But they'll think we're weak," Alexander argued, clearly displeased with the plan.

"We killed seventy percent of their men the last time." Yuri leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "They know we're not weak. Pakhan is right, as always. Our silence will shake them; it will scare them. And people tend to do stupid things when they're afraid."

Yuri was picking up fast, finally getting a hand on my way of thinking. Impressive.

"Any questions?" I asked them.

My men exchanged looks and murmured a little amongst themselves before Anatoli faced me. "None, Boss. We trust your judgment. Always have, always will."

"Good," I said. "In the meantime, I have important news to share with you."

"Okay," Kostya replied, leaning back into his chair, eyes fixed on me. "Brother, is that a smile I see on your face?"

He was exaggerating. That wasn't a smile; it was a very faint smirk, almost undetectable. But the thought of this news made me feel something I hadn't felt in years. I could see the anticipation in everyone's expression as they all wondered about this important news.

"Well, spit it out already, brother. This suspense is killing me," Kostya teased amidst chuckles. "It's not like you're getting married or anything."

I looked in his direction with an unwavering gaze that gradually killed his smile and had him squinting, pulling his head back in confusion. "Hold on a fucking minute."

I still wouldn't stop looking at him. It was obvious that he got the message, but for some reason, he found it hard to process.

That smile was slowly returning, brightening his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I smirked and turned my focus to my men, who were all so curious to hear my big announcement. "I'm getting married in the next two weeks," I declared.

"Getting married?" one of them blurted out, his voice laced with amusement.

"About goddamn time!" Anatoli slammed a palm on the table.

They all seemed excited by the news, and soon, the hall was filled with congratulatory remarks and jokes about how I was already growing old.

I glanced at Yuri, who had a blank expression. He was probably wondering why I hadn't told him first, considering he was my right-hand man and always got first-hand information before everyone else. He might also have realized who the girl was.

"Quick question," Kostya began. "Who is the lucky girl?"

I thought for a moment, knowing he and I would still have our time together, but I wasn't ready to disclose her identity just yet. Yuri was looking at me, waiting patiently for my response, even though he likely already had a pretty good idea who the girl in question was.

"Yeah, Boss? Who is she?" Alexander chipped in.

"You'll find out on the day of the wedding," I said simply.

"Oh, come on," Anatoli grumbled.

Instead of humoring them further, I dismissed them. "That'll be all."

They rose to their feet, bowing their heads in respect before exiting the room with hushed conversations amongst themselves.

The door shut after the last person had left, and Yuri turned to me, hands folded across his chest. Kostya was balanced in his chair, a fist under his chin as he looked in my direction.

"It's her, isn't it?" Yuri asked.

Without a word, I nodded subtly.

" Her who?" Kostya asked. "I'm in the dark here."

"Not that I'm against it, but why her?" Yuri asked, his eyes fixed on me. "I don't understand why you suddenly decided to marry the girl."

"Again, what girl? ‘Cause I'm not following," Kostya complained.

"You're trying to save her life," Yuri continued. "I just don't understand why."

"Still not following," Kostya blurted out, his eyes shifting between us.

"Your brother has a prisoner in his house, and she's the one he intends to marry," Yuri said to him.

"Prisoner?" Kostya replied with raised brows. "Okay, now you've lost me completely."

"She's an eyewitness to the death of Nelson McCall," Yuri explained. "We all know the rules, the law; all witnesses must be killed." He faced me.

Kostya adjusted in his chair. "Well, if that is the case, making her wife of the Pakhan would make her untouchable, and that's obviously my brother's plan."

Kostya always had my back, and I admired him for that. He always had faith in me, always trusted my judgment, and believed in me more than anyone else. And he was right. That was the plan: to make Sierra untouchable. Marrying her would mean she was part of the family, and family members were not considered threats to the Bratva.

"I want the girl," I said with finality. "And I'll have her."

Sierra had unlocked something in me the first time we met. She was a very interesting person, a sweet soul with the prettiest smile I'd seen in a long time. She was gorgeous in every way.

I'd made the decision to marry her so I'd redeem myself of a mistake I made years ago with another young woman. Plus, I liked Sierra and thought she was a suitable wife.

Yuri exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know best, Pakhan ." He nodded subtly and excused himself.

Once he'd exited the room, Kostya wasted no time turning to me. "This girl…she reminds you of her, doesn't she?"

Jade's image flashed in my head that instant: her beautiful face with a radiant smile playing on her cherry lips. In my head, her laughter echoed, and memories of our time together came rushing to mind.

I could still feel the touch of her skin against mine, and even now, the fragrance of her perfume lingered in my nostrils.

Jade had been a very beautiful blonde with a captivating persona, a slender figure, and a lively spirit.

When we'd met fifteen years ago, I was somewhat soft and so in love with this woman that I forgot who I was—the heir to the Tarasov Bratva. I got sloppy and let my guard down, blinded by my emotions.

Being a Tarasov meant that I had a whole lot of enemies, outside and within. Unfortunately, word about my relationship with this girl had gotten out, and one of my enemies took it upon themselves to make me suffer: Martinez Gonzalez. I'd never forget the bastard who claimed her life.

Thinking about her now sent me traveling down memory lane.

"Chocolate or vanilla?" Jade asked me with a smile as we stood in front of the ice cream shop in the streets.

"You know I don't eat these things," I replied.

"Come on, try it. You just might like it." She chuckled.

I thought for a moment; she wouldn't stop until I picked one anyway. "Chocolate."

"Nice choice."

Police sirens wailed in the distance as we stood under the distant stars, placing our order.

"Thank you," she said to the vendor and accepted the cones. "Here you go." She passed one to me.

I accepted it, staring at the cone in my hand contemptuously.

"It's not dog food, you know," she said, playfully hitting my shoulder as we strolled through the streets.

I scoffed, shaking my head as I decided to try it. My tongue licked the cream, and for the next few seconds, the flavor danced in my mouth, and I savored it. "Hmm. Not bad," I confessed, taking another bite.

"See, I told you," she said with a little laugh.

The street lamps cast long shadows over the sidewalks as we walked together. I was so engrossed in our conversations that I didn't notice the awful quietness of the street.

We got to her apartment, and she stopped by the entrance.

"Thanks for tonight, Artem," she said.

"Would you like me to take you inside?" I teased.

She smiled before wrapping me in a tight hug. "I'll be fine from here. I promise."

I watched her head into the house. At the entrance, she blew me a kiss before stepping inside. I waited for her to get to her room upstairs, and from her window, she bade me goodnight.

The moment she turned off the lights, I saw a figure move in the darkness of her room. It was a masked man with a knife, the blade glinting beneath the moonlight.

"Jade!"

I took off immediately, rushing up the steps like a parkour runner. When I reached her door, I kicked it down with a powerful kick.

But I was too late. She was lying in the pool of her blood with a knife wound in her belly.

"No, no, no...!"

My legs weakened as I dropped to my knees by her side. Taking her hand, I felt for a pulse, but it was futile. She was dead. I took her head in my arms and wept deeply.

At that moment, I vowed to find out who did this and make them pay. I swore that I would make them suffer just as I had suffered, taking from them what they took from her.

I blamed myself for what happened to her.

"I'm sorry, Jade. I'm so sorry." I squeezed her cold fingers.

If I weren't so sloppy, if I hadn't brought her into this life of violence, maybe she'd still be alive. My weakness and compassion were the reason she was killed, but no more. I would never be so weak again.

I would find her murderer, and I would end them slowly.

I'd kept my word; I did trace the man who ordered her death, and after a nasty battle between our gangs, I was victorious. Martinez Gonzalez begged for his life like a scared little pussy, but I wouldn't have it.

I'd cut his head off.