Chapter One

Darkness has enveloped both the sky and my mind. I"ll do whatever it takes to find her, even if it means destroying the city. I will. Ilya has been tracking Ivan's movements, but in the process of doing that, he also came upon a group of my father's supporters. He's found them hanging out at a bar that is well known for entertaining Bratva members. Ilya suggests scoping it out for potential leads.

Oleg and I sit in the car as we watch Ilya cross the street to go over to the man sitting outside the bar. I watch as Ilya shakes the man's hand and they share words back and forth. He glances at the car, our eyes connecting. He nods his head in respect. Ilya pats him on the shoulder and jogs back across the street to us. I roll the window down to hear what he has to say.

"Yeah, they are in there. Drunk and talking shit, according to Ioann." Not happy with what was shared, Ilya wears a scowl on his face. Ioann returns to his stool in front of the door, arms crossed. Inside, I am a raging inferno, ready to destroy everything in my path to Lina. "Poydem, (Let's go)" I motion for Oleg to follow me out of the car.

Each of us is carrying weapons, ready for a fight. Ioann rises from the stool as we cross the street. "Ser (Sir), will you need my help? I will gladly lend a hand." Ioann straightens himself and I know he could hold his own. "Net, no spasibo,(No, no thanks)" I say, taking his hand in a firm handshake.

"Kak Khochesh"(As you wish)," he replies, holding the door open for us. The smell of vodka and stale beer permeates the air, along with the hazy cloud of smoke from the cigarettes and cigars. The table of men disregards us, so I head straight to the bar. Bogdan, the long-time bartender and owner, nods in respect.

"Leonid," he says, taking out three glasses and filling them with Stoli.

I heave a sigh as I stare at the glass in front of me. We three stand there, drink our shots, and slam the glasses down. "Bogdan," I say. My gaze shifts to the table of men. "Can you tell the guards to lock all the exits?"

Bogdan nods and takes his phone out and sends a quick message. "Gotovo(It's done)," he says. I motion to the glass in front of me and he pours another. I raise it to my lips and then I hear her name.

"Such a pretty little thing that Kalina is," the man chuckles, "It made my cock so hard, her struggling underneath me when we finally got to her in his office. Once we got her back to the car and she was out cold, I grabbed a handful of her tit. Fucking perfect."

All the guys at the table keep on laughing. I tip my shot glass back and slam it down my knuckles grasping it so hard it might shatter.

"I understand Leonid"s obsession with her," the man continues. "So young, so fuckable. I would have fucked her too if time had permitted it."

Unable to stand it anymore, I push off the bar and stride over. All I can see is red. As I approach the table, one man notices who I am and rises to his feet. "Sit down." I bark out the order to him. He sits back down. "Now," I say, clearing my throat. "What is so funny?" The table goes quiet.

"Lev—Brat (Brother), look, we were just," one man offers as he tries to find some kind of excuse.

I hold up my hand, motioning for him to stop. Oleg and Ilya are now standing behind me. As I lock eyes with the man, I can see the smugness in his expression as he halts his comments about Lina. "Please," I say, motioning with my hand, "continue." His mouth opens, but no words come out. I am staring him down, silently begging him to say something so I can cut out his fucking tongue.

In the blink of an eye, Ilya shoots one guy in the back of the head as he tries to run away. His body drops to the floor. Blood seeps out from underneath him. I turn back to the suka (bitch), and he stares at me wide-eyed. I smirk, never breaking my gaze on him. "Ubey ikh!(Kill them!)" I shout as I draw my blade and stab the man to my right. My knife pierces up through his chin. Blood spatters as he tries to open his mouth to scream. The warm crimson liquid runs down my hand.

These men didn't stand a chance. Oleg and Ilya gun down the remaining other men. All except for the one who sits across from me, staring. His body trembles as I yank the knife from the other man's face. I circle the table and lean down on my elbow, propping myself up. I hold my bloody blade to his throat. "Let"s have a chat, hm."

"Net (No), I—I don"t know anything," his voice trembles, as he shakes his head back and forth. He looks all around him at the six bodies of his comrades that lay dead.

"Tak (Tsk), of course, you don't." I grab him by the collar and drag him towards the door. "Ioann," I shout, and the door creaks open as we walk towards it. I can hear Ilya and Oleg talking with Bogdan, then a few seconds later they follow me out. I drag this kusok der'ma (piece of shit) across the street to the car, ready to toss him in the trunk until I see the church on the corner.

My deep, sinister laugh breaks the silence of the surrounding night. He faces me and says, "I was just doing as I was told. Your father is the Pakhan. I couldn't say no."

With a swift punch to his face, feeling the bones crunch under my knuckles, he loses his balance and takes a step back. "I am the Pakhan now." I spit at him. Ilya and Oleg grab onto his arms, and I motion to the church. They nod. We make our way down to the little church, finding the doors unlocked. Once inside, I snatch him up by his collar from the twins and drag him across the Nave. He struggles and tries to get away the whole time. I stop in front of the confessional lectern, lifting him. I violently slam his face into it. The blood from his busted nose saturates the cloth holding the Bible.

With a firm grasp on his hair, I turn his face up to the Icon of Christ, "Are you ready to confess?" I bring his face down onto the lectern again and again.

"Chto eto? (What's this?)" From the Nave"s door, we hear a voice. The parish priest peeks his head in, his eyes pan the room, taking in the blood on the floor.

Oleg makes his way over to the Priest. "Vladyka (Father), bless. Pozhaluysta (Please), go back to your quarters. We will take care of this sinner." Ilya snorts from the corner. The priest crosses himself and leaves, mumbling a prayer under his breath.

I pull the man up by his hair again. "Now where were we? GDE MOYA ZHENA?(Where is my wife)" I shout.

He coughs blood, spattering it across my face. "Ivan Ma—Malenkov," he sputters. I reach for my blade and lean him up against the lectern.

"Where?" I ask.

"I don't know where they are keeping her. We met them at the warehouse on your father's property." He coughs, blood dripping down his chin. I twirl my blade in between my fingers. My patience wearing very thin. "Pozhaluysta, Lev…Mne Zhal,( Please, Lion, I'm Sorry)" he begs.

His words mean nothing to me.

"I'll see you in Hell," I say, driving my blade into his stomach. His screams fill the nave, resounding off the stone walls. I stab him again and again. My hair falls into my eyes, obstructing my view. I remove the blade and press it against his throat, feeling the resistance before the warm, crimson liquid flows out from his jugular, staining the pristine floor of this holy sanctuary.

I rise, taking my blood-soaked hands, running them through my hair, and pushing it out of my face. I turn to Ilya, "Call someone to take care of this." He nods, pulling out his phone. The Icon of Saints Joachim and Anna stare at me from across the room. I make my way over, the scent of incense lingering in the air, and say a silent prayer. I cross myself and Oleg's hand grasps my shoulder.

"I"ll bring you home to shower and change, then we"ll figure it out. Ilya will ride back with whoever comes."

I nod. "Just give me a moment." I drop to my knees, continuing my silent fervent prayer.

Let me find her. Saints intercede for me. I can't live without her.

Back at the house, I stand under the hot spray of the shower. The water runs red down the drain as I wash the man's blood from my face, hair and hands. I don't linger. I wash up and get out. Memories of Lina and I always surface when I shower. In the closet, I pull some clothes out when Oleg rushes in.

"Ilya called. Ivan is on the move. He will be here in ten minutes to pick us up." His voice resonated with an unmistakable sense of hope.

Moya l'vitsa, ya priblizhayus'. (My lioness, I am getting closer.)