Page 2 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

He shakes his head. “Wait for Mikhail. We all need to be present.”

Viktor, silent and hulking, sits brooding. Our group heavy’s mere presence— hulking, tattooed, and typically dressed in leather— can be enough to ward off enemies. And if it isn’t, he’s willing and able to get shit done.

Lev, however, gets to his feet and begins to pace. Our youngest brother by several years, Lev is a trained fighter and our team strategist. With his athletic build, he’s the one we send in to maneuver through tricky situations and defend himself if needed. Confident, with a magnetic personality that makes women swoon, Lev doesn’t ever get romantically entangled. He’s too occupied with other things.

“Ollie joining us?” Lev asks, his jaw tight.

“Remotely.”

Jesus. It’s been over a year since Mikhail and Aria had their son Sasha and our brother Ollie’s been working in Moscow. He came home for Sasha’s baptism, then went straight back to Moscow.

“When’s he coming home?”

Aleks shakes his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Don’t know.”

“We’re stronger when we’re together,” I say, shaking my head.

“While that might be true,” Mikhail says from the balcony doorway as he comes out to meet us, “in this case, it might not be.”

What does that mean?

Mikhail joins us and shuts the door behind him. I watch him curiously. I know that look on his face. Whatever he needs to tell us is big.

“Aria and Aleks unlocked some prime intel,” Mikhail says, walking past the chairs toward the edge of the balcony. He leans against the wrought iron fence and crosses his arm on his chest. His deep-set dark brown eyes beneath heavy brows, golden, tanned skin, and dark brown hair tinged with flecks of gold make him look almost godlike. And while Mikhail might appear a bit more civilized than the rest of us, there’s a reason he’s called the Siberian tiger.

“You know we’ve been on the trail of those who attacked us for some time now. We’ve narrowed it down to rival Bratva and a few subsidiary groups. In recent weeks, Aria has discovered that the subsidiaries weren’t actually behind any of the attacks but funded by the larger groups.” His tone grows sober as his eyes harden. Mikhail is known as the Siberian tiger for a reason.

“We have names.”

Unlike other rival groups in New York, ours is one of the only not held together by blood. Like other Russian factions before us, our father decided he would ensure allegiance to our family by adopting all of us. But blood isn’t what bonds us all together.

Loyalty. Honor. Trust. The ties of familial bonds run deep despite the way we came into the family.

When Mikhail calls us by name, it’s like a call to arms. A summoning. A flare that lights the night sky, calling all of us to action. Any one of us would lay down his life for the other, a claim some of our rivals could never make.

“Names,” Lev says, his jaw tightening. Recent years have hardened the softer features of his younger face. He suffered during an all-out attack, resulting in a beating that left him hospitalized shortly after Mikhail was made pakhan in the wake of our father’s death. He was outnumbered and left for dead outside a nightclub.

Mikhail straightens. While Lev was personally attacked, Mikhail’s wife was nearly poisoned to death. “Ivanov. Petr Ivanov.”

“Son of a bitch,” Lev says under his breath, shaking his head. “After all we did for him.”

“Right.”

When my father was still here and we were a fledgling group, we ran surveillance for Ivanov at our own risk for what turned out to be a pittance in hindsight.

“He doesn’t care. He knows we own The Cove, and he wants in.” Mikhail shakes his head; no further explanation is needed. They all want in.

After my father’s death, we took down our greatest rival, Fyodor Volkov. But after his death, other groups vied for power and attention in the coveted Cove.

Ivanov.

A chill runs through me at the knowledge that we have a target. This is where my area of expertise comes into play. I stand and straighten my shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

Mikhail shakes his head.

“The problem with the Ivanovs is that Petr is untouchable. He’s invested more time and money in his own protection than most invest in their entire family. Classic textbook narcissist. So he’s surrounded by an army of monsters who will stop at nothing to keep him safe.”

I snort. “Like I fucking care. Give me a sniper rifle and a sight and I’ll take him down no matter the protection he’s put around him.You know I will.”

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