Chapter 47

Victor

I SQUINT at the grainy surveillance footage, trying to make out any familiar faces in the sea of scumbags and lowlifes. Misha, Igor, and Ari have been staking out this shithole of a warehouse, watching Vasiliev’s men coming and going like rats in a maze.

“Anyone spot that mudak Ivan Vasiliev yet?” I growl, my patience wearing thinner by the second.

Misha shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “Nah, boss. Fucker’s been MIA for a while now.”

I curse under my breath, my fist clenching around the half-empty cup of coffee in my hand. The bitter liquid’s gone cold, but I couldn’t give a shit. All I care about is getting my hands on Ivan Vasiliev and making him pay for the stunt he tried to pull.

“According to Dave, the prick’s in Thailand,” Ari chimes in, his lip curling in disgust. “Probably picking up a new batch of girls for his fucked-up little sex empire.”

I feel my blood boil at the thought.Ivan Vasiliev Isn’t just a thief and a liar, he’s a goddamn monster. The kind of sick bastard who gets off on destroying innocent lives for profit.

“Suka,” I spit, slamming my mug down on the table. “He’s been slippery as an eel these past few years. Ever since he started delegating to his underbosses, the rat’s barely shown his face.”

Misha leans forward, his brow furrowed. “That’s the thing, boss. The ledger we snagged? It shows just how deep his connections go. He’s got cops, politicians, even fucking judges in his pocket.”

I snort, shaking my head. “No shocker that Detective Sokolov’s riding with us. He wants Vasiliev gone—thinks he’s got the city by the balls, and now he’s just a damn liability.”

Ari nods, his eyes hard. “And that’s what makes him so dangerous. He’s not just a lowlife pimp; he’s a puppet master. Pulling the strings from the shadows.”

Oh, he’s going to regret the day he was born.

I turn to Misha, my eyes hard. “The exchange goes down tonight. We give them the ledger, they give us our goods and the hundred mil. Simple as that.”

Misha nods, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the wariness in his eyes. He knows as well as I do that nothing in this business is ever simple.

“What if they try to fuck us over?” he asks, voicing the question that’s been gnawing at all of us.

I smile, but there’s no humor in it. “Then we unleash hell.”

I pull out my phone, hurriedly sending a message to Ksenia. She’s supposed to be here, working on a backup plan in case Vasiliev and his crew try anything funny.

She’s six hours late—what the hell?

Ksenia is never late.

Where are you?

I type and send, frustration mounting. She’s supposed to have been here tonight, but there’s no sign of her.

Fuck, what’s with the off feeling today? Something’s up.

“All alright, boss?” Misha asks from across the table. He’s sliding his knife back into its sheath with practiced ease while his other hand checks the grip on his gun, ensuring it’s ready for quick action.

“Ksenia’s got a backup plan,” I say, pocketing the phone. “If they try to screw us, she’ll make sure they regret it.”

Ari raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What kind of backup plan?”

I shrug, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. “The kind that involves a lot of firepower and a few well-placed moles in Vasiliev’s organization.”

Misha whistles low, shaking his head. “Remind me never to piss off your sister.”

I chuckle, but there’s an edge to it. “Trust me, bratishka. You don’t need a reminder.”

Being hard and heartless is the nature of the game, the price we pay for the lives we lead. But that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

I think of Laura.

Her sleepy face flashes through my mind, her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed from our lovemaking. The way she looked at me, the trust and the warmth in her eyes… it’s like nothing I’ve ever known.

And the baby… Blyad. My child, growing inside her. The thought of it is terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

I told her I loved her. The words just slipped out in my mother tongue in the heat of the moment. I’ve never said that to a woman before, not even in my native tongue. Except for Mama, of course.

But with Laura… it felt right. Like a piece of me I didn’t even know was missing had suddenly clicked into place.

I’m going soft,

I shake my head.

Turning into a fucking sap.

But even as I scold myself, I can’t deny the warmth blooming in my chest. The sense that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than the next score, the next power play.

That maybe I have something—someone—worth living for now.

It’s a dangerous thought, a vulnerability I can’t afford. Not in my line of work. But fuck me, I want it. I want her, want the chance at a future I never dared to dream of.

I stand up, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that’s settled there. “Alright, boys. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Misha and Ari fall into step beside me as we make our way out of the cramped surveillance room and into the main part of the warehouse. The air is thick with the stench of motor oil and stale seawater, the only sound the echo of our footsteps on the concrete.

We’re just about to head out when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, frowning at the unfamiliar number on the screen.

“Da?” I answer, my voice gruff.

“Is this Victor Morozov?” a smooth, accented voice asks.

I narrow my eyes, instantly on guard. “Who wants to know?”

The man on the other end chuckles, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “Someone with information you might find valuable. About your cute little niece and that pretty little wife of yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl, my heart pounding in my chest. The voice is familiar, naggingly so, but I can’t quite place it.

I hold up a hand, silencing Misha and Ari’s questioning looks. “Who the fuck are you?”

There’s a pause and then that sinister laugh again. “I’m quite disappointed that you don’t remember my voice, bratishka.”

The blood drains from my face, my jaw clenching so hard I feel my teeth grind. Ivan Vasiliev. The suka is always one step ahead.

“I’m not your fucking brother, Ivan,” I spit, my free hand curling into a fist. “What do you want?”

“Oh, straight to business. I like that about you, Vitya.” His use of my nickname makes my skin crawl. “It’s simple, really. I have something you want. Two somethings, actually.”

My blood runs cold, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turn white.

“Where are they?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous. “Where’s Eli? Where’s my wife?”

“Tsk, tsk. So impatient.” I can hear the smirk in his voice, the sadistic pleasure he’s taking in this. “They’re safe, for now. But that can change very quickly, depending on how this conversation goes.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage and terror battling in my gut.

Think, mudak. Don’t let him rattle you.

“What do you want, Ivan?” I ask again, my tone flat and controlled.

“Ah, now we get to the heart of it.” There’s a rustle, a muffled command. “Bring them in.”

I hear a door open, footsteps. And then…

“My mama and Dyadya are going to come for me!” Eli’s voice, high and defiant. “They’re going to kick your butt!”

Despite the situation, I feel a flicker of pride.

That’s my girl. Strong, like her mother.

“Eli, are you okay?” I hear Laura ask, her voice shaking but fierce. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m okay, Tetya Laura,” Eli says, sounding so brave, so much older than her eight years. “Don’t be scared.”

“Let us go!” Laura suddenly shouts, her voice rising. “Let us go now, you bastards!”

Fuck.

I close my eyes, my chest constricting.

This can’t be happening. It can’t.

“Ah, there she is,” Ivan purrs, his voice oily and amused. “Your feisty little koshechka. I can see why you like her, Vitya. She’s got spirit.”

“If you lay a fucking finger on either of them, I’ll rip your heart out through your throat,” I snarl, my vision hazing red. “I’ll make you beg for death before I’m done.”

Ivan just laughs, the sound grating and cruel. “Such vivid threats. But you’re not really in a position to be making them, are you?”

I’m breathing hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. He’s right, the smug suka. He’s holding all the cards.

For now.

“What do you want?” I ask again, biting off each word. “The ledger? The money? The fucking shipment? Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Oh, Vitya. So naive.” His voice hardens, all traces of amusement gone. “You think this is about business? About profit margins and lost revenue?”

He scoffs, the sound harsh and mocking. “No, bratishka. This is about power. About respect. About taking back what’s rightfully mine.”

I frown, confusion warring with dread. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The empire I built, the legacy I created. The one you and your shlyukha father stole from me.”

Ivan Vasiliev, the self-made man who clawed his way up the mafia hierarchy, harboring a deep resentment for mafia royalty like me. He sees me as someone who had everything handed to me on a silver platter while he had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of power.

“You’re insane,” I rasp, my throat tight. “The Bratva was never yours, Ivan. You were a soldier, a shestyorka. Nothing more.”

“I was the one who earned my place!” he roars, his composure shattering. “I should have been the one to lead, not you, with your inherited power and undeserved respect!”

Fuck! He is mad!

It was never just about business. It was personal, a grudge decades in the making.

“My father earned his place,” I say coldly, my voice shaking with rage. “He built the Bratva into what it is today. You? You’re nothing but a cheap thug with delusions of grandeur.”

“And yet, here we are,” Ivan hisses, venom dripping from every word. “With me holding the lives of your loved ones in my hands. Funny how that worked out, isn’t it?”

I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to corral my rampaging emotions.

Focus, mudak. Find his angle. Find his weak spot.

“What do you want, Ivan?” I ask for the third time, my voice low and even. “You’ve got my attention. You’ve made your point. So stop beating around the fucking bush and tell me what it’s going to take to get my family back.”

There’s a long pause, heavy with menace. I can practically hear the gears turning in his twisted mind.

“It’s simple, really,” he says at last, his tone light and conversational. “I want you to suffer, Victor. I want you to know the pain of having everything you love ripped away, piece by piece.”

My blood turns to ice, my breath catching in my throat.

Nyet. Pozhaluysta, nyet.

“I’ll give you back the girl,” Ivan continues, almost lazily. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill. A reminder of my mercy.”

I hear Eli cry out, hear Laura shouting her name. There’s a scuffle, a thud. And then silence.

“Eli?” I call, my heart in my throat. “Eli, solnyshko, can you hear me?”

“She can’t, I’m afraid.” Ivan’s voice is smug and satisfied. “She’s taking a little nap. But don’t worry, she’ll be back with you soon enough.”

I’m shaking now, rage and terror vibrating through every nerve. “And Laura?” I manage through gritted teeth. “What about my wife?”

“Ah, yes. Sweet Laura.” He draws out her name, savoring it like a fine wine. “Such a pretty little thing. And pregnant, too. Did you know that, Vitya? That she’s carrying your child?”

Blyad.

The bottom drops out of my stomach, a roaring in my ears.

He knows. Of course he fucking knows.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Ivan says, his voice hardening. “You’re going to get in your car and drive. Alone. I’ll send you the coordinates. And when you get there, you’re going to transfer every last bit of your holdings to me. The money, the properties, the businesses. All of it.”

I’m breathing hard, my vision tunneling. “And then?” I rasp, already knowing the answer.

“And then you’re going to put a bullet in your brain,” Ivan says softly, almost gently. “A tragic suicide brought on by the stress of your crumbling empire. So sad, the young Pakhan unable to handle the pressures of leadership.”

I close my eyes, bile rising in my throat.

This is insanity. He’s insane.

“And if I refuse?” I whisper, already knowing the answer to that, too.

“Then I’ll mail you your wife’s head in a box,” Ivan says pleasantly. “After I’ve had my fun with her, of course. I hear pregnant women are a particular delicacy.