Chapter 18

Nicolai

I exit the hallway, trying to get my bearings. I’m still learning the layout of this new facility, and I’m not allowed much freedom until I’m formally inducted. Yakov meets me in the hall, his eyes tight, his jaw clenched.

“She’s in there,” I tell him. “Just on the other side of the door.”

He shakes his head. “And why go to her?” he scoffs. “So I can share her cunt with the rest of the brotherhood?” But his protest holds a bitter note I don’t miss, and speaks of the same fears I have.

I shrug. “You don’t know what they’ll demand.”

Yakov sighs and falls into step beside me as we head to the exit. “But we do.”

“We have an idea,” I tell him. “We’ve been told to bring a tribute, and we’ve followed every instruction so far.”

Even though I hardly know this man, having been through what we have already together makes me feel a sort of kinship, and the same is with Erik even if he is a bastard.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing a hand across his brow. “Right. Let’s go see the asshole before we go to the meeting.”

“Where is he?” I don’t need to ask him who he’s talking about.

“Thought he was still in the infirmary,” he says. We walk to where we left Erik, only to find he’s gone, and we have no more time to look now. We had back to where we were instructed to meet for our induction, a private room hidden behind a large dining room and a kitchen. We take a staircase that leads us upstairs, and as we ascend, the sound of voices gets louder and louder.

I’m shocked at the number of people here. There must be three or four dozen men filling this large space, each one of them marked with Bratva ink. It’s too dark in here to see more than a sea of faces. We enter the room and head to Tomas, who sits at the head of a long mahogany table.

“Welcome,” he says with a stern nod. “Sit.”

We sit, and when Tomas does, the rest of the room follows. They wait in silence for him. There’s an air of anticipation in here.

“You two have done well,” he says. I focus on Tomas, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. The less they know about who I am, the lesser the chance there is of anyone identifying me. “The third…” his voice trails off and he shrugs. “We will see.”

I share a look with Yakov. Erik may not be inducted in as we suspected. Will he retaliate if he isn’t?

“You’ve brought us the virgins requested. Difficult to acquire, but you followed instructions.”

He points a remote to a large, flat panel on the wall to his right, and they light up. I sit up straighter. He’s turned on direct footage to the rooms where Marissa and Yvonne have been placed.

Of course they have hidden cameras in there.

“This one is exquisite,” he says, zooming in to show Marissa, propped up on her bed, a book in hand. I hold my breath. I don’t like that she’s on display for all these motherfuckers to see. The threat of him playing footage of my visit to her is real, but it isn’t my only focus. I hate the thought of anyone in here looking at her with anything more than brotherly affection. Yakov’s bitter reminder that these two are here to share doesn’t help.

“Brothers, welcome our new recruits.”

Cheers and greetings erupt in the small room, some in English and others in Russian. I wonder what the induction ceremony is like in this brotherhood. Some are brutal, demanding new recruits be subjected to vicious acts of violence to test their mettle. Others will not allow entry without blood relatives or marriage, and still others are hand-chosen by their pakhan.

I’ve met every requirement they’ve demanded so far, and if I can meet what they demand next, I ensure that the steps I need to take to make Marissa safe are that much closer.

“Tell us a little bit about yourselves.”

Fuck.

I was not expecting this. I school my features and remain seated upright, reminding myself of who I’m supposed to be. I can’t betray any of the facts that will lead them to believe I came from the Atlanta Bratva. I hardly listen to Yakov give his introduction, until I realize the room has grown silent, and they’re waiting for me.

“Aleks Ambramov,” I state out loud. “I’m twenty-nine years old, former Russian military.”

“Which branch?” Tomas asks me, his eyes boring into mine as if probing for truth.

“Spetsnaz,” I tell him. That much is true. The room buzzes with a murmur of approval, and I sit up straighter. Most respect Russian special forces because of our rigorous training and defense of mother Russia. Tomas smiles at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen his stern facade crack. The smile is genuine, reaching his eyes, when he says “Lyubaya missiya, v lyuboye vremya, v lyubom meste.”

Any mission, any time, any place. It’s the Spetsnaz motto, one I used to have written across my back. Was he Spetsnaz, too?

“You, too?” I ask.

He nods and fist bumps me across the table. “Welcome, brother.”

Hope rises in me. This might be easier than I feared, if I have a friend in the pakhan.

“And why did you serve time?”

My jaw clenches. I don’t like lying about this. “Racketeering. Extortion. Theft.” And the reality is, I’ve done several of those things. I’m not proud of it, but the Bratva gains power and control by illicit means, and I’ve always been dedicated to the success and advancement of my brotherhood.

Tomas nods slowly, and faces the group. “I think these two would serve us well. What do you think?”

The room erupts in cheers. Yakov meets my eyes and gives me a grim smile. We both know it isn’t that easy. Over Yakov’s shoulder, someone gets to his feet, his eyes wide, and he takes a step toward us. I freeze. Fuck. Does he recognize me? He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Tomas is holding his hand up for attention. I turn away so the man looking at me doesn’t meet my eyes, so he doesn’t find anything identifying at all, but my pulse gallops in my veins. If someone in this group knows me, I’m fucked.

The cheers die down, and Tomas sobers. “But I’d like you to prove yourselves with one final task.”

I draw in a breath and hold his gaze.

“You’ve brought the virgins here. You’ve paid the price. And I suspect you both would like to keep those women as your own. Am I correct?”

I can’t breathe, like someone’s wrapped a band around my chest and pulled.

“Absolutely,” I manage to choke out, trying to act as if this is just a casual conversation and my entire life doesn’t hang in the balance.

Yakov’s grown still. “Without a doubt.”

Tomas nods benevolently. “And I’d like to be able to grant that to you.” His gaze softens for a moment. “Some of our most powerful leaders were joined with women who supported them. And I believe you have the power to benefit our brotherhood tremendously.”

Khristos, yes.

I nod, swallowing hard. He hasn’t stated his final demand yet.

“Earn them,” he says, his voice hard, his eyes flinty. “You two will interrogate the man you captured today. Find out who he is and why we attacked. Get answers from him, and you can keep the women you brought as your own.”

Yakov nods and gets to his feet, already ready. “Understood.”

I rise more slowly. I’ve interrogated men before. Some will cave and some will let you kill them before they speak a word. It isn’t a fair contingency.

“And if we don’t?” I ask him.

Tomas shrugs. “Then the women will be ours to share and I’ll have to give you another task.”

I’m grateful I’m not doing this alone. Yakov is fierce but human. Such a task with a ruthless killer might go easier, but at what cost? I get to my feet with Yakov. The man behind Tomas is gone. I face Tomas.

“Where is he?”