1. Alek

1

ALEK

T he man cried out as Ivan held him back. Blood, sweat, and tears coated the spy's shirt. They mixed and merged as he sobbed and begged for mercy.

Mercy? That wasn't in the cards for him. If anyone thought they could spy on the Valkov territory and get away with it, they had another thing coming.

"Please, I wasn't here to look around," the idiot insisted through his tears. Losing two of his fingers had to hurt, but I kept my knife poised and ready to remove a lot more. Whatever it took to get him talking. I refused to go easy on this spy.

The Rossini Family were always looking for ways to get to us, but they would learn their lesson one way or another. No one messed with the Valkov Bratva.

"Aleksei." My cousin's mocking tone slurred as he entered the warehouse. As soon as Ivan and I captured this Rossini spy lurking outside—taking fucking pictures through the windows—we called Andrey and let him know what we were up to with this development. Andrey was my superior in theory only. If my cousin actually gave a shit and acted like the heir to the Bratva, I would have held a semblance of respect for him. But he didn't care. He could barely walk into this windowless room of the basement, used strictly for dealing with enemies and fools. Calling Andrey here was nothing more than a polite gesture. His arrival wouldn't change anything. I couldn't remember the last time my cousin had cared about hearing intel from a spy.

He tsked, approaching me and Ivan. Ivan glanced at me, a wary, skeptical lift of his brows as he, too, wondered why Andrey had bothered. Most times, he ignored business matters and let everything go to voicemails. Maybe he'd get off his lazy ass and reply with a vague text.

I kept my blade ready even though I almost got the sense that Andrey would, for once, involve himself here. My cousin disliked ever getting his hands dirty. He couldn't possibly want to handle the torture personally.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, frowning at the spy we'd captured, then glancing at his watch.

What? What the fuck? "I called and informed you of the spy trying to get a way into our warehouse." Just how fucking drunk are you if you can't remember a call from ten minutes ago?

"A spy ?" Andrey smirked, walking in a slow circle around us.

Ivan didn't release the Italian. If anything, my brother held the spy tighter with the bloody rope tugging his neck tight. I remained tense, holding my blade and waiting for my cousin to leave. Treating him like he was in charge was a joke. His father, the bratva's Pakhan, was no better.

"He's not a spy," Andrey said dismissively, almost bored.

"He was outside trying to take pictures of our product," Ivan argued evenly.

"No, I wasn't. It's a misunderstanding," the Italian rushed to add. "Just an accident."

"Bullshit," I spat, stepping closer with my knife. My shoes crunched over his phone. I'd already shattered the device on the concrete floor.

"Ah, just let him go. We don't need to bother with this." Andrey waved at the door, but Ivan didn't let the man go. I didn't back up either. "He's not worth your time."

"We can't let him go. He was spying." I narrowed my eyes at my cousin, wondering how he could be so deluded. If we let this man go, he'd tell his Mafia brothers about how lax the bratva had become.

"He didn't see anything." Andrey shrugged. "It's not like the Rossinis are a threat anymore."

"They are all threats," I argued.

"Not the Rossinis," Andrey retorted. "They're nothing now, not after losing so many with all their infighting."

It didn't matter if the Rossinis were strong or weak. They were our rivals, and we couldn't go easy on them.

"This is what you pulled me away from the whores for?" Andrey scoffed, shaking his head. "Just let him go. Give him a warning if you want." He shrugged. "I don't care. I just want to get back to the pussies waiting for me in my bed."

His priorities were shit. Andrey—and his father—cared more about drinking and fucking the whores. But letting this Italian go with a goddamn warning was asking for trouble.

"It's foolhardy to release him," Ivan warned in a firm tone. Not many messed with my brother when he spoke like that, but Andrey was oblivious, smirking at him.

"We can't be this sloppy," I argued.

Andrey shook his head. "It's not being sloppy. It's letting stupid shit that doesn't matter go."

I failed to see how he saw a spy as stupid shit that should be ignored. I'd never held Andrey or Pavel in high esteem, but they were the head of the family. Their word was law. More and more, though, I wondered if they'd bring the whole bratva to ruin with their lousy leadership.

"This isn't something to just let go," Ivan protested. "Too many spies are waiting to sneak in. Our rivals will take advantage of any information they can get about our business."

He laughed it off. Each chuckle grated on my nerves.

"Take advantage of us ? The Valkov Bratva is too powerful," Andrey bragged.

"Was. We were powerful," I replied hotly. Ever since my father died in a turf war, the bratva had been declining in influence. I always thought my father did the Pakhan's work for him, and with his death, the leadership crumbled.

"We still are. We're the most powerful crime organization in New York," Andrey drawled, like I was the idiot here.

"No." I shook my head. "Not anymore. It seems like the Ortez Cartel reigns."

"We're not declining," Andrey said, not touching on my comment about the cartel. I doubted he could lie about their influence.

"And once we align with the Kastava Family, all will be well." He smoothed down his suit jacket, pompous as ever. "Uniting with the Kastavas will bring strength in numbers with more forces."

I furrowed my brow, hating that he would talk about this in front of a spy. "Those are just rumors. No alliance will form between the Valkovs and Kastavas."

Pavel had mentioned talking with Sergei Kastava and entering negotiations with him, but nothing had happened from those chats yet. Still, speaking about this union in front of the Italian was careless.

"I'm not sure I'd trust the Kastavas, anyway."

Andrey sneered. "That's not your call to make."

"The Kastavas have a long history of lying," Ivan added.

"It's already a done deal." Andrey shoved one hand in his pocket, tumbling his keys with his fingers in an annoying jingle. "I'm marrying the eldest daughter, Mila Kastava. Our marriage will solidify and celebrate the alliance that will pave the way for our critical shipment."

Now the spy really would have to die. I couldn't believe my cousin would speak about our biggest shipment to date. The sheer number of arms and contraband we were supposed to receive would be a boon in revenue. Mentioning it in front of this Rossini had just guaranteed his death.

"Father demanded this marriage happen to go with the agreement. The Kastavas will get a portion of our arms, and they will grant us use of their Colver docks."

Andrey wasn't talking out of his ass. We'd been hoping to take over or secure the Colver docks for decades. With so much of our business happening with transportation of goods and illegal product, we needed a better location to ship and receive. Those docks were in a prime location, not so easily accessible to the cops.

"And since my wedding will be here sooner than later," Andrey said, smiling smugly at us both, "all the more reason to enjoy the whores at home while I can." He backpedaled, chuckling. "Not that I won't be able to when I've got Mila for a wife. I've heard she's heavier than I care for, but…" He shrugged. "My mistresses can take care of me just as well."

Ivan and I shared a glance. Affairs and sleeping with mistresses were common practice in the bratva. We weren't judging him, not for that. But as he backed away, indifferent and uninterested in this spy here, we could judge him for being a pathetic leader.

"Don't call me and bother me with petty shit like this." Andrey flung his hand to the air, like shooing away this incident. "Let the man go, and don't interfere with my plans for the night. Think you can handle that?"

He didn't wait for us to reply. After pushing the door open and letting it slam shut, he washed his hands of the incident.

"Why'd we even fucking call him?" Ivan growled.

"Protocol," I reminded him. "Or it used to be protocol to have someone from the top be involved with these things." Not since my father had been alive and operating under Pavel's orders had anyone done things right. Protocol was an excuse of the past. Rules and expectations were forgotten and ignored.

The spy cleared his throat, pointing at the rope. "I–I–I understand. Your warning is clear. I won't come around here anymore."

I raised my knife again. His groveling irritated me, but my cousin's news pissed me off more.

"No," the Italian cried out as I approached. "He said to just warn me. To let me go." He lifted his shaking, bloody hand, minus two fingers. "You've warned me."

Ivan rolled his eyes and held the man secure. Without giving the fucker another chance to whine and beg, I sliced my blade across his neck. My brother kept him upright for a moment more. Then, as the blood puddled at our feet, he dropped the spy like the worthless sack of dead meat he was.

Unbothered by the kill and agreeing with my decision to disobey Andrey, Ivan stepped away and began to wipe the blood from his hands. "Aligning with the Kastavas will be a mistake."

I nodded, crouching to wipe my blade on the dead spy's pants. "It will be. I understand how an agreement like that could be beneficial." Selling arms was the nature of our business. Obtaining rights to the Colver dock would be an advantage. But with the Kastavas? I had a bad feeling about this. My gut told me not to trust them. Like Andrey said, it wasn't my choice to make. Pavel had ruled with shitty decisions for a decade now, and Ivan and I, along with our three brothers, could do nothing but follow along.

"But not with them. Not the Kastavas," I said as I stood.

He shook his head, snapping his fingers for a couple of soldiers to start cleaning up the mess the spy had made. They'd dispose of his body.

Instead of being rewarded for keeping the bratva on top of their enemies and catching a spy, we had been chastised and dismissed.

"I don't like this shift," I told Ivan as we headed out of the warehouse. "Pavel doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, suggesting an alliance with Kastava."

"He means it, too. He's only got Andrey for an heir."

Arranging a marriage with the Kastavas' eldest daughter signaled a permanent union between the families. Once they married, the Kastavas would no longer be identified as our rivals but as our kin.

"I don't trust it." I opened the door Andrey had left through, holding the door open for Ivan to go first.

"Me neither," he replied, scanning the alley we'd exited to.

I assumed many more of my brothers in the bratva would be with us on this sentiment. Until someone else was in power, these disastrous ideas would continue to bring us down. I wanted to think things could change for the better, but it didn't seem likely.

Because once Andrey married his bride, there would be no way to backtrack out of whatever the Kastavas were scheming to do.