Page 12 of The Bratva's Hostage

“Right when everything starts to go well, some stupid shit happens, a fight, a hit. Something. And when that happens, it distracts us from our business. It’s frustrating, and I’m fucking tired of it. I’m tired of all of them. Fucking shit show!” He spat the last part, his face contorting with hate.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Nikolai, but you’re right.” Fyodor shook his head thoughtfully. “But what can we do? Wiping out the entire Italian mob from this side of New York—and I don’t need to point out how unlikely that is—they are a thorn we will be enduring for a long time.”

Nikolai grinned at Fyodor. “We could try. We have more men; we have more guns. Even better, we have Maksim. But you’re right. Maksim is not that bloodthirsty. So, what do we do about this disruption? Ideas, Pakhan?”

I shot him a grim look. This conflict with the Italians was a problem I was tired of as well, but contrary to what Nikolai thought, I knew just how formidable the mafia was. There was a reason why the rivalry between the Bratva and the Italian mob lasted so long without major incidents. There was a silent agreement of mutual respect for our business.

“I’m thinking… We need to handle this delicately.” I scratched my jaw. “Who do we have on watch at the hospital?”

“The rookie, Valentin,” Fyodor said casually. The man was more dependable than a rock, and he knew every single detail about our business. “We have him disguised as a nurse, and he has eyes on the old man’s room. The hospital is crawling with the Italians.”

I nodded. “Good. We need to know how well that’s progressing. Whatever happens, we need to make a move before the old man recovers.” I frowned. “It will be fortunate for us if he dies, though. Those stupid idiots will tear his empire apart within a year. He’s the only force keeping that whole ship from sinking.”

“Understood,” Fyodor said. “I think we should get the girl into a more suitable quarter. Having her surrounded by slaughtered pigs is hardly… appropriate.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nikolai said, smiling an easy smile. “She looks right at home… but hey, the Moretti princess… she inherits if the old man passes, right?”

Fyodor glanced up. “Yeah, so?”

Nikolai barked a laugh. “Just a thought…” He glanced at me teasingly. “She is a young, beautiful woman, and as far as I know, our dear Maksim is still a bachelor, and being over forty, I would say the time is ripe.”

He clonked his glass with Fyodor’s. “Here’s how it goes; the Pakhan of the Bratva marries the possible leader of the Italians, the princess, and we become one big, happy family.” He slapped his hand on his thigh. “Problem solved,” He chuckled.

Fyodor watched him for a moment and then erupted into laughter. He and Nikolai went at it for half a minute, with Nikolai clutching his belly as he laughed.

I didn’t join in the laughter. The wheels in my mind were turning, and pieces fit into place as I considered what Nikolai suggested.

It was a crazy idea, but it wasn’t a bad one. Elena would fit right in; she would make a great Bratva wife.

And I could finally claim that beautiful body. Make her mine!

Didn’t I make Dimitry do the same thing with Olivia? That worked out well enough. It annoyed me that I hadn’t thought about it earlier. The more I rolled it around in my head, the more sense it made. It was the perfect solution to a sticky situation.

I looked up to find Fyodor and Nikolai watching me quietly. “You have that crazy look in your eyes, Maksim,” Nikolai said. “It was a joke, okay? Snap out of it. Don’t get any crazy ideas.”

I grinned at them and pulled a fresh cigar from the box. I lit it and sighed contentedly. Sure, it was a joke, but in every joke lies a hint of truth.

Chapter 6 - Elena

The news about my father was enough to incapacitate me. Whether out of pity or disinterest, Maksim and his men left the light turned on when they left the room, to my relief.

Despite the stench of fat and blood and the ominous sight of pigs swinging from hooks in the ceiling, I was glad for some light. The darkness had been oppressive, and it had pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate me. It didn’t lessen my captivity, but I felt better about it, and my thoughts were with my father. He needed me now, more than ever, and I couldn’t get to him.

My heart raced with fear as I imagined the worst. A stroke, they said. Could I believe the words of the Bratva boss? Why not? What motive did Maksim have to lie to me? Regardless, our families were sworn enemies, and he could be playing a long game, one I couldn’t figure out from where I was sitting.

It was an open secret that there were many internal disputes in our family. My father was the glue that held everything together. His death would bring the whole house crumbling down. I could think of four parties who would seize power in the event of his untimely demise.

The thought sent a shiver through my bones. Marco’s death had created a power vacuum within our organization, and too many players had entered the fray. I couldn’t count on my father’s men being loyal to me.

I could think of a few lieutenants who would rally to my side in support of my claim, but I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that nothing stopped those same men from grabbing the crown. These were dangerous times for us, and my father could not have picked a worse time to suffer a stroke.

I needed to get out of here. I had no idea where I was being held, but I was certain that wherever I was, it was heavily guarded. The man I had attacked earned me no friends here, and I didn’t doubt that the guards would take out their anger on me any chance they got.

A bargaining chip was useful alive. Whatever condition I was returned in was inconsequential, so long as I was alive. In retrospect, maybe I could have been more cautious. With the show I’d just put on, there was no doubt in my mind that the Russians were now wary of me.

The cuffs binding my wrists bit painfully into my flesh with every movement I made. But it was insignificant. I need to get out of here.

The walls of the room were thick enough that I couldn’t hear a thing happening outside. One thing was certain, I couldn’t leave myself at Maksim’s mercy, waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do with me.

---