Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I’ll ask Rosie to talk to Tim, seeing as she’s his idol. Maybe once he’s older I’ll give him the odd job, but for now, I’d like him as far away from danger as possible.
Andrei pulls up to the airfield where the helicopter is waiting so we can fly out to a factory. I’ve heard a group of men took it upon themselves to hit Yelena Fedorova’s house out in the country and apparently took her and some other family members captive. I hope the report is wrong because I sure as fuck didn’t authorize the attack on Yegor’s family. If it’s true, the odds of them still being alive are slim. It’ll piss me off because it does nothing to restore order to the Bratva and will only incite Yegor’s associates even more.
Especially Sokolov, who’s Yegor’s best friend and the loudest of them all.
As the SUV comes to a stop, my phone rings, and digging the device out of my pocket, I see Atanas’ name. The corner of my mouth lifts as I accept the call from the head of the Bulgarian mafia.
“Volkov.”
“How are things after the showdown at the prison?”
“A little up in the air, but the dust is starting to settle.”
“I’m still in Moscow. Let’s get together,” he demands.
“Sure.” I check the time on my wristwatch. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Dinner at my place?” I ask, knowing an invitation to my estate will show Atanas I’m fucking serious about building a relationship with him.
His tone sounds a little friendlier when he replies, “I don’t like vegetables. See you at eight.”
Ending the call, I stare at the screen of my phone.
“What was that about?” Andrei asks, pushing his door open.
As we get out of the SUV, I grin at him. “Atanas is coming over for dinner tonight.”
We walk to the eight-seat executive helicopter, and while Andrei takes the space beside me in the middle row, Sergei and two of my best men fill the other seats.
The blades start spinning through the air as we put on the headsets, and I decide to use the twenty-five-minute flight to check in with my five captains, each of whom controls a specific area in Russia.
While Andrei and I handle all international operations to ensure none of the alliances I’ve worked so hard to secure are compromised, the captains oversee Moscow, St. Petersburg, Southern Russia, Siberia, and the Ural Region.
Once I’m sure all the rogue groups who are doing their own goddamn thing and sowing destruction in the name of the Bratva have been dealt with, I’ll give the captains full control of their territories. So for now, my ass has been all over Russia to show the men who’s in charge.
Either they bend the knee, or they’re dead. There’s no in-between.
When the helicopter is set down at the front of the factory, I tuck my phone away and glance at the shithole.
“Blyadʹ,” Andrei says. “I don’t think this place can be salvaged and turned into a manufacturing plant.”
“Let’s just deal with the men, then we can decide what to do with it,” I mutter as I wait for Sergei and the two guards to get out before Andrei and I follow.
Dressed in combat gear, I blend in with the other four as we walk toward the entrance.
Two men are warming their hands by a fire, giving us curious glances, and the moment the one on the left’s eyes land on me, they go wide as saucers.
“Pakhan!” he shouts loudly, alerting the others.
When I stalk into the dimly lit factory, the acidic stench of piss and death hits my nostrils.
I glance to my right and see three decomposing male heads hanging from hooks on the ceiling, with no sign of their bodies.
“Full alert,” I order Andrei and my guards. “This is going to go sideways real fucking fast.”
A man comes toward me while the rest gather around. He stops a few feet away and gives a respectful nod. “Pakhan.”
Locking eyes with him, my tone is deep with authority as I bark, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Bogdan Ivanov.”
“Ivanov.” My gaze sweeps over the bloodstained floor and severed heads before settling back on him. “Who gave you permission to attack Yegor’s family?”
“No one.” He squares his shoulders. “It needed to be done. The old blood has to be wiped out before the new can take over. As long as Yegor’s family is alive, there will always be men willing to fight for them.”
“You don’t get to decide what needs to be done.” My voice drops to a deadly calm. “I do.”
A flicker of uncertainty crosses his face before it disappears. “They’re all dead,” he says. “Except one.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “Who?”
For the love of all that’s holy, let it be Yelena.
“Yelena’s daughter,” the dumb fuck answers.
Blyadʹ! Yelena’s death is going to piss off Yegor’s associates something fierce.