Page 22 of The Lazarov Bratva

“It has been too long.”

“Indeed it has.”

“Come. Tell me, how was your visit with the Nikolaevs?” Aleksander has lost all hint of his accent, and how he pronounces their name grates on me slightly. Following him into one of the various studies littered on the lower floor of the mansion, I force the lid down on my distaste.

“Good. They have passed all the tests we have given them so far,” I say.

Aleksander moves to the glass drinks cabinet near the window, nodding as I talk.

“But there is some… doubt.”

“Doubt?” Aleksander casts an eye over his shoulder.

“The docks are not safe. Any family that moves in to protect that territory is taking on a great risk, and the Nikolaevs have some concerns that they will just become cannon fodder.” A concern I share.

Aleksander, however, scoffs as if I have just told a ridiculous joke. Acid curls in my gut, but I remain impassive as he presses a crystal glass into my hand and draws on his cigar.

“They should swiftly learn not to question me,” Aleksander mutters.

“It’s not a case of questioning. They see what’s happening as clearly as you or I do. They have their own people to protect. Asking them to give up what they have in Russia, to come to the front lines against the Irish, is a big ask.”

“Are they not loyal?” Aleksander gathers his own drink and his thick, bushy brows collide.

“They are.” I take a slow drink. “But they need reassurances. If we’re not careful, they will take that territory and just become another puddle in the bloodbath.”

Aleksander snorts into his glass. “They do not see the bigger picture.”

Neither do I, apparently. “Enlighten me.”

“The wedding between Alena and Mikhail is a month away. As soon as she turns nineteen, she will be his.” Aleksander tips his glass toward me. “That is all the reassurance anyone should need.”

My gut twists sharply, and the ridges of the crystal glass press painfully into my fingers.

“The wedding?”

I know what he means, but I still need to hear him say it.

“Of course! Once we have the Kuznetsovs in the family, their new weapons shipments will be ours. That kind of firepower will send the Irish back to their fucking green hills, and the Nikolaevs will have access to all the weapons they need.”

It really was all riding on this wedding.

In the dark of night, I’d looked into the Kuznetsovs, hoping to find enough dirt to get them cast out, but I’d found nothing.

“It feels like only yesterday that you organized that,” I say, draining my glass in one strong gulp. The year has gone too fast.

“We have waited too long,” Aleksander says, seemingly thinking I’m impatient for the betrothal. “But worry not. Soon, everything we have worked for will be secure.”

“Indeed. And Alena, is she elated?” The question sours my tongue. I already know the answer, but still, I hold hope that Aleksander has learned.

“It doesn’t matter how she feels.” He waves me off. “She knows her duty, and she will perform it for the good of our family. Besides…” Aleksander snorts and draws on his cigar once more. His face hides behind puffs of smoke as he laughs. “She will be happy to leave here, I’m sure. She’s been grounded since last year.”

“Grounded?” My brow lifts. Alena paints such a good, innocent picture. It’s difficult to imagine her doing anything worth punishment.

“She tossed around some accusations last year.”

My heart jumps, my mind darting back to the kiss. Did she tell all? “About?”

“Mikhail.” He shakes his head, taking a drink as if the very thought disgusts him. “She accused that boy of forcing himself on her.”

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