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13. Chapter 13

thirteen

Leonid

" Y ob tyoyu mat' , what did you say Aleksei?” I growl into the phone, my knuckles turning white as I grip the device.

“It’s time you know the truth, Leonid. The truth about your family.”

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh.

“What truth?” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Andrei… I mean, your father…he…” Aleksei hesitates, his voice strained. “He had two sons.”

Papa had two sons?

Aleksei clears his throat, a nervous cough crackling through the phone. “You… You have a brother, Leonid. A twin brother.”

I feel like the world has tilted on its axis. A brother? A fucking twin? How is this even possible?

“Where… Where has he been all this time?” I manage to choke out, my mind racing with a million questions.

“Hidden,” Aleksei replies cryptically. “Andrei, he… He had his reasons for keeping you apart. Reasons I’m only now beginning to understand.”

I open my mouth to demand more answers, but Misha’s voice cuts through the chaos in my head.

“We’re here, Pakhan ,” he says from the driver’s seat, the car rolling to a stop.

I end the call abruptly, shoving the phone into my pocket. My mind is reeling as I turn to look out the window, trying to understand Aleksei’s revelation.

“ Kakogo chyorta… ” I curse under my breath, my eyes narrowing as I try to make sense of the sight before me.

The dim streetlights cast an eerie glow over the deserted alleyway, the cold night air biting at my exposed skin. Maksim parks the car, the engine rumbling to a stop.

“Stay put,” I grunt, my breath fogging in the frigid air. “In case this goes sideways.”

Maksim curses under his breath, his eyes fixed on the man leaning against the red sports car. “ Da , Pakhan . But be careful. That… suka looks like trouble.”

I nod, stepping out of the car, my black coat billowing in the wind. I scan the area, my senses on high alert. In the shadows, I spot another figure—a huge, bear-like man watching from a distance. Like a monster lurking in the darkness.

My hand instinctively goes to the gun holstered at my side as I approach the man leaning against the car. He looks exactly like me but rougher around the edges. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his bleach-white hair tied back like some low-life gangster.

I take two quick steps toward him, trying to process what I’m seeing.

It’s like looking into a twisted mirror, my own face staring back at me but distorted. Harder. Colder.

A version of me that’s seen too much, done too much. A sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach. This man, this stranger with my face… it’s fucking wrong.

It must be some kind of sick joke.

I’ve been the Pakhan of the Kuznetsov Bratva, aka “the Ravens,” for four years now, ever since our father, Andrei Kuznetsov, died from a fucking heart attack. And now, out of nowhere, this man appears.

This… twin.

The word feels foreign on my tongue, bitter and sharp.

A brother.

A fucking twin brother.

It’s impossible. It has to be.

But even as I try to deny it, I can’t ignore the truth staring me in the face. The same sharp jawline, the same piercing eyes. The same blood running through our veins.

You don’t fucking need a DNA test to know we are related.

The man flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot.

“ Privet, brat ,” he greets in Russian.

I clench my fists at my sides, feeling the rage begin to boil up inside me.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” I spit out in English, “but you’re no brother of mine.”

The man just smirks, pushing off his car and taking a step toward me.

“Name’s Ludis. Ludis Kuznetsov, and believe me, I didn’t want to believe it either. But the truth is, we’re twins. Dear old Papa split us up and hid me away. Left me to rot while you got to live the high life.”

I shake my head in disbelief, my mind reeling.

How could this be possible?

How could I have gone thirty-three years without knowing I had a twin?

Ludis takes another step forward, anger flashing in his eyes, his words sharp and to the point.

“I’ve been watching you, brat . Watching you lead the bratva, watching you get everything I should have had. And I’m sick of hiding in the shadows.”

I clench my fist tight. Memories hit me like a freight train.

Suddenly, I’m 6 years old again, standing in the dank basement of Papa’s estate. The stench of blood and fear hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid tang of Papa’s cigarette smoke.

“Pay attention, syn,” he growls. “This is what happens to those who betray us.”

I watch, transfixed, as his men work over the battered man strapped to the chair. His screams echo off the concrete walls, a symphony of agony and despair.

“But… but why, Papa?” I ask, my 6-year-old voice trembling. I clutch at his pants leg, feeling like I might piss myself from fear. This isn’t right. This isn’t what good people do.

Papa’s eyes flash with annoyance. He shakes off my grip roughly. “Quit your sniveling, Leonid. This is the way things are. The way they have to be.”

He turns back to the beaten man, nodding at his enforcer. “Continue.”

I flinch as the screams start up again, each blow landing with a sickening crunch. Papa watches with cold satisfaction, like a predator savoring a kill.

I swallow hard, forcing back tears. I know better than to show weakness in front of Papa. But inside, a small part of me rebels. This can’t be the only way…

Papa places a heavy hand on my shoulder, his fingers digging into my flesh. “One day, this will be your responsibility, son. You will be Pakhan , and it will be your duty to maintain order. To punish those who dare to cross us.”

I nod, too afraid to look away.

“You’ll be ruthless, Leonid.”

“Okay, Papa.”

Everything Papa wants me to be. I’ll be just that.

But a brother? A fucking twin? The old man never said a word. The lying bastard.

I shove the memories down, lock them away. I’m Pakhan now. No time for weakness. No time for doubt.

I stand face to face with Ludis, my mirror image. My fucking brother.

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