Page 4 of Runaway Queen

The next week, I was doing push-ups in my cell when a guard rapped on the bars. Exercise helped to numb the boredom, and my body was a temple honed by hard discipline that made my former, younger self look sloppy and weak. Now, I was truly strong.

“Chernov, a visitor.”

I got up, toweled the sweat off my neck, and passed by the guard without acknowledging him. I had learned how to play the prison game in Russia. I didn’t cooperate with the authorities and had taken plenty of beatings for it. Me and authority still didn’t mix.

A shriveled figure sat at a scratched table in the waiting room. Age and a hard life had turned Artur Golubev into a gnarled hump of a man, but I knew he could still beat down the newest bratva recruit when he needed to. Artur would never need to prove his physical strength. Besides, his talent with discreet explosives was renowned.

He wasvor,and no Russian in jail would ever challenge him.

“Nikolai,malchik,you look well, a difficult thing considering what they feed you in here.” Artur smiled at me. His gold teeth flashed under the fluorescent lights.

“I’ve gained a taste for it.” I grinned at him and relaxed back in my seat.

Artur had been an inmate two separate times while I was incarcerated. The sight of the old man was a strange comfort. He was the only person I’d ever met who had as many tattoos as I did, but his were infinitely more valuable.

He had the marks of thevory v zakone. He kneeled for no man.

“Of course you have. Prison suits you, Niko, like it suited me. I saw your brother last week.”

That caught my interest. Kirill waspakhanof the Chernov bratva, a brotherhood who claimed New York and ruled from Brighton Beach, a historically Russian seat of power. Still, a single bratva in the scheme of the countless number of brotherhoods in the vast territory of North America was a small thing. Kirill was smart. He knew his position, and he’d have known to show respect to a man like Artur.Vorstatus is a mark of the deepest respect, and thevory v zakonewasn’t an organization to fuck with.

“I trust he was welcoming,” I said.

Artur nodded. “As he should be. Your brother is a smart man, and a goodpakhan. New York is a difficult territory to hold, and he does it well. Thevoryhasn’t had to intervene in there since your father and his troubles in the nineties.”

He was talking about a particularly bad few years when a bratva based in Boston and the Chernov bratva had clashed spectacularly. The streets in both cities had run red with Russian blood, until thevoryhad intervened.

“I guess the apple fell far from the tree when it comes to Viktor and Kirill, unlike me.”

Artur raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning my father was an ignorant Russian thug, and I’m pretty sure he attended school more often than I did. Kirill is the brains in the family.” I shrugged like it didn’t bother me, which it really didn’t. I had no illusions about who I was.

“You sell yourself short, Nikolai. I’ve been impressed by you. There are book smarts, and then there are street ones. More than that, not every man understands the code.”

The code. Artur was talking about the code of thevory. Vory v zakoneroughly translated to “thieves in law” and had its own rules. Above the petty squabbles of rival bratvas, thevoryknighting a man with the title was a sign of ultimate respect. It was an old system, and while it had changed and adapted in many ways, it remained a powerful accolade.

“I’ve seen how you reign in here, your effortless understanding of rules that aren’t written anywhere. Thevoryneeds men like you.”

Now it was my turn to stare.

Artur’s gaze shifted over my prison overalls. “I hope you have space on that scribble board of a body. I’m making a case for your stars.”

Stars.One of the many symbols imbued with meaning in the intricate system of thevory. When inked in different places, they marked different stations in the organization.

“Stars? I’m too young.”

“You’re old for a man with your experiences.”

“Fine. I’m too unstable.”

Artur laughed. “Knowing that makes you not.”

I smoothed a hand down my shaved head. Stubble prickled my palm. “It’s too late for me, old man. I just want to watch the world burn.”

Artur stared at me for a long time.

“And your brother, and his wife, his children? Having avorin the family would make the Chernov bratva stronger and safer.”

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