Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
The gist is, the Grinkov soldiers are moving farther and farther inland. Brighton Beach has long been ruled out as a possibility, but they’re still terrorizing the territory like they think she’s there. Their only goal now is to scare the families into turning on each other. Mikhail wants chaos, so he can rise victorious out of this whole situation and keep Brooklyn held in an iron fist.
Really, Anya’s disappearance is the best thing that could have happened for him. He’s gotten to escalate his violence in a way he’s probably wanted to for years, all with a valid justification. When this is all over, he’s betting there won’t be a single Bratva who wants to take him on. He thinks he’ll have full control of Brooklyn if no one challenges him.
“The worst thing is, he’s putting pressure on Ivan Malenkov too,” Sergei tells me gravely. “He thinks he’s just backed out of the deal and is hiding her somewhere.”
“That’s not bad for us,” I say.
“It’s bad for Brooklyn,” he answers decisively. “Ivan is the only other person besides you who could challenge Mikhail. Now he’s going to do anything in his power to find his daughter and bring her to that bastard. Your list of enemies is growing by the day, my friend.”
“It’s not like Ivan was ever an ally.” I shrug.
“Maybe not, but he’s a powerful enemy with heavy resources. Once he’s on the board, there’s no way you’ll be able to stay here.”
I know he’s right. Sergei has lived through enough Bratva wars to tell stories for hours. He’s lived long enough to collect scars. Mikhail is a once-in-a-generation threat. Pakhans like him have existed before, and they’ll probably exist again, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. It means he’s going to use every opportunity to leave his mark on Brooklyn. This is his chance to wield absolute power, and he’s going to take it.
“What’s your recommendation?” I ask, giving him the highest authority I can possibly bestow. “What would you do?”
“The die have already been cast,” he says seriously. “At this point, returning her isn’t going to change what’s already been set in motion.”
“I wouldn’t anyway,” I remind him.
“You wouldn’t anyway,” he agrees. “So, that leaves you only two options: You plan for war or you plan for retreat.”
He looks at the monitors for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.
“How long has that car been circling the block?” he asks, pointing to one of the screens.
I stare up at it, watching for a moment. It’s a black SUV, not particularly exceptional, though that’s probably what makes it stand out so much.
“This is its second time around,” I answer mildly, not too worried about it. My team wouldn’t let any of Mikhail’s crew within a three-block radius. It’s probably just an Uber driver.
“It’s only a matter of time before he sends someone here,” Sergei grunts.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I sigh. “But, seriously, give me information I don’t have.”
He sighs back heavily and pulls out a folder. I watch as he scans over reports that I don’t need at present.
“We lost one of our dock crew last night,” he says methodically.
“Dead?” I ask.
“Not dead,” he clarifies. “At least, we haven’t gotten his body. He’s missing, though. He didn’t report to his last shift and he’s not answering his phone.”
“Can we track him?” I ask. “Make sure he’s not just taking a sick day.”
“Already tried, and his phone is off. We’ll probably have a solid answer in a few days.”
“That’s too long,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Our guys can’t just be disappearing.”
“Unless he’s compromised,” Sergei says carefully.
“In which case, he’s our problem to take care of,” I groan. “But a dock worker is no threat to our present situation. What’s next?”
He slides a few printed photos out of his folder and lays them on the table in front of me.
“These are the men Mikhail put on the street this week,” he says. “They aren’t soldiers, they’re investigators. They get people talking then send in a clean-up crew to handle the rest if anything interesting comes up.”
“We’ll keep an eye out,” I say, recognizing one of the men vaguely. “What kind of pressure are they putting on people for information?”
“They’re paying cash,” he says. “Lots of it. Mikhail’s playing a lot of angles with this. When violence doesn’t work, money talks.”
“We always knew he was smarter than others gave him credit for,” I say, handing back the photos. “Our guys are well-paid. They aren’t going to turn for a few bucks.”
“We’d better be one hundred percent certain, Viktor, or you’re going to be on the run for a lot longer than you had planned.”
He’s not wrong. I’ll admit I didn’t think this all the way through when I took Anya. All I’m doing by staying underground is making myself look guilty, and Mikhail is smart enough to figure that out. How long will it take him to squeeze the information out of one of my men?