Chapter 55

Yaroslav

A s I slowly regain consciousness, my first thought is: I’m alive . My second thought is: Where are Kim and David? Did they manage to escape?

Then, I feel rage—white-hot rage that courses through my veins. Innokentiy should have killed me when he had the chance. I’m going to get out of this, and I’m going to kill him.

I take in my surroundings, testing the restraints that tie me to the chair I’m in. It’s dark but I can tell I’m in one of the basement cells. The irony that I’m the first person to be held here, I haven’t yet needed to use them myself, isn’t lost on me. When I first got here, it occurred to me to have Sharkozi brought to these cells, to have him under my watch when I knew I had a rat. But I didn’t want to risk an escape attempt. Innokentiy would no doubt have achieved an escape if I’d ordered Roman to be moved. With him dead that’s at least one less enemy to worry about.

They’ve been meticulous about tying me up, I can feel the restraints digging into my skin. This tells me two things. One: they’re afraid of me, they know the damage I could do if I got loose. Two: I’m going to need them to untie me if I stand a chance of making it out alive.

The fact I’m still alive means they need me. I assume they want the code to the safe where I stashed the decoy USB, or if they’ve managed to get into the safe, they want the encryption key. If I’m alive, that also means they haven’t found Kim and David. The real flash drives are with them, so they’d have no use for me. I hold onto that hope, that Kim and David are alive and well, as I sit in the dark contemplating my options.

I don’t have many. Either I die here, my remaining loyal men manage to rescue me, or I escape. Unfortunately, the first one seems to be the most likely scenario. Innokentiy plans to torture and kill me, that much has to be true. He’d be a fool to leave me alive for long. I could take back my empire and easily defeat him if he ever let me go. Logic tells me that the only reason he didn’t kill me straight away is because he plans to torture me for information or his sick amusement. Innokentiy always was a petty coward who only acted tough when his victims couldn’t fight back.

In the soundproofed room, I can’t hear anything other than my own heartbeat. I’ve no idea what’s happening outside these walls. The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing, bothers me more than my less-than-ideal situation.

When the door opens, I’m unsurprised to see Innokentiy’s face. He must be confident that the restraints will hold me, as he’s alone. He enters the room, flicking on a light, the brightness momentarily blinding me.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he declares as though he’s just popped by for a nightcap rather than checking in on a prisoner he drugged.

I remain silent. I want to curse at him, to rip him to shreds and tell him exactly what I think of traitors. But that would give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. I need to remain calm and careful with my words, anything I say could give information away. The less I talk, the harder it is to break me.

“Giving me the silent treatment, are you?” Innokentiy says, talking to me like he did when I was a child.

I grit my teeth, biting back the retort.

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m doing this? What I want?” Innokentiy asks, walking closer but still keeping a wary distance like you would when encountering a wild animal.

He’s afraid of me.

He also has no idea how much I know. Perhaps he even thinks that up until the moment he drugged me, I still trusted him and saw him as family. He wants me scared, confused, and hurt by his betrayal. He doesn’t know how many cards I hold. How much I have against him. Which means I have some leverage.

“Tell me,” I reply calmly meeting his eye.

“I want what’s rightfully mine, dear nephew. You were never fit to rule, almost as incompetent as your lunatic brother. Your father knew it, he wanted me to take over one day. He said he wanted a normal life for his children, but we both knew it was because he knew none of you had what it takes,” Innokentiy spouts his lies smoothly.

“Lies,” I spit, unable to hold back the flash of anger I feel at him bringing my father into this.

I stop myself from revealing the conversation Marta overheard between them just in time.

Innokentiy shakes his head, looking at me sorrowfully, “I’m sorry son, but it’s true.”

I bristle at him calling me son, but I don’t stop him. He’s making the mistake of talking. I won’t.

“I didn’t want to believe it, that’s why I stepped aside and let you rule for as long as you did. But now I see I was mistaken. You’re too emotional, you let your feelings rule you, not logic. This foolhardy move to the US was doomed from the start. You’ve turned away from the old ways, tried to modernize and hide who you are. Acting under an air of respectability and aligning yourself with modern Mafia men who have no idea what it takes to rule a criminal empire, children playing at power. Meanwhile, you’ve made enemies of the old families from the homeland,” he says shaking his head in disappointment.

The irony of his comments isn’t lost on me. He’s the one who’s playing with fire with two of the biggest Bratva’s in Russia. Though I find it interesting that this is his angle, the excuse he’s used to finally act now. It’s probably one of the things he told the Petrovs and Sharkozis to gain their support in his coup.

He’s right that I tried to modernize our approach, the old ways won’t survive. We’d end up in prison or broke. There’s wealth in Russia for sure, but the notion of being an out-and-out crime boss is a thing of the past, especially in the United States. Dealings are done in the shadows now with respectable businessmen and government officials. Be seen as legitimate and become welcomed into their world and you can get more power and money than the old families could even dream of. I don’t bother explaining this to Innokentiy.

“But still, I wanted to believe in you as Pakhan. But then you grew soft and fell in love, with that cyka . You embarrassed the family and disrespected the respectable Russian girls from good families you had turned down marriage proposals from in the past. Girls like this Kimberly, they are good to keep as whores, not wives, not mothers.”

“Keep her fucking name out of your mouth,” I snarl, my composure slipping.

Innokentiy chuckles, “See? This is what I am talking about. She has made you weak.”

He has no idea how wrong he is. Kim has made me strong. Stronger than ever. He’ll find out soon enough.

Innokentiy is getting into his stride now, enjoying the sound of his own voice as he preaches his monologue to me.

“So you see, I had to do something. I knew you wouldn’t listen to reason, not without my intervention. I thought perhaps if I got rid of that troublesome sister of yours and your whore you might see sense. But Sharkozi only succeeded in taking down one and insisted on keeping the bitch alive. I was glad when you captured him and gave me the chance to take him out, he’s made too many mistakes, and his son will be a better ruler,” Innokentiy muses.

“If I wanted to just take over, I could have killed you, but you’re my family, like a son to me,” he continues. “So, you see, that is why we are here now. So we can talk without you letting your emotions cloud your judgment,” Innokentiy says, the lies rolling off his tongue easily. “I don’t want to hurt you, all you need to do is hand over control of the Bratva to me, and then you can go live a life of obscurity with your little cyka and your retarded brother in peace as a wealthy man. It’s what your father wanted. There’s no need for violence.”

He must think I’m stupid, gullible, or both, if he thinks I’m going to believe this bullshit. I can’t believe his audacity. A hysterical bubble of laughter rises from my throat, and I can’t hold it back. The howl of laughter pours from me. Innokentiy looks at me, perturbed that I didn’t fall for his scheme, that this isn’t going to be easy for him.

He scowls, his pig face distorting with anger and humiliation. He wants me to be afraid. He lashes out, backhanding me with all his strength. Which only makes me laugh harder. I spit out blood, looking at him square in the eyes.

“You’re the one who’s weak, old man.”

Innokentiy lifts his hand to strike me again, it hovers there as the sound of the door opening distracts us both.

“Pakhan,” the familiar voice says, and for a moment I think that I’m rescued, that my men have overpowered Innokentiy’s and this is about to be over.

But then I realize it’s not me he’s talking to. Innokentiy isn’t the only traitor in my wolfpack.