Page 1 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

Chapter 1 - Leon

“Good afternoon, sir. Can you talk now?”

My phone is on speaker, sitting on the desk in my new home office.

I pace up and down in front of the desk. Looking around the office, I can’t help but be slightly annoyed by the boxes that haven’t been unpacked yet.

“Yes, you can go ahead, Ivan. What do you have to report today?”

Ivan is my inside man; he keeps a watchful eye on my enemy, Danil Balakin.

Danil is the entire reason I moved to Boston.

He murdered my whole family in cold blood. He left their lifeless, brutally tortured bodies on display in our family home so that I could discover the carnage myself. Balakin and I did some business around five years ago, and it didn’t go as well as we had both hoped. He thought I’d double-crossed him, when actually, there were just some poor decisions that were made on both our parts.

As revenge, he murdered the people I loved most in this world—my mother, my father and my little sister. But he didn’t just murder them. He tore them apart. The pain of their deaths is burned into my retinas, forever forged into my memory.

I can’t unsee what he did to them; no matter how hard I try to push it from my mind, every single time I close my eyes, I see them.

The red of their blood.

Their torn flesh.

Exposed bone.

The fear and pain frozen in their expressions.

I set the house on fire. I tried to give them peace by burning away everything that happened to them. I tried to remold their deaths into something more tolerable. But it didn’t work. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I set fire to my childhood memories, my mother’s art, my father’s antique book collection. I set fire to my sister's old vintage records and my family photograph albums. I burned it all away.

All that was left was gray ash and empty numbness.

“It’s more of the same, sir,” Ivan confirms. “Balakin has just returned from the Maldives. A month holiday, kicking his feet up, drinking the finest champagne and basically just living the high life. While he was there, he purchased a new yacht, and on his return to Boston his new Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate was delivered. Quite the impressive machine. And he has a custom paint job on it. He’s been back home for two days now, and he and his daughter have just been hanging around the house. They threw a party last night for close allies. The usual over-the-top style.

I sigh and rub my fingers against my eyes. “So, basically, more of the usual. He’s just enjoying his life, living in luxury and not having to deal with any consequences for what he did to my family?”

“Um—yes, sir, exactly that.”

Pulling my mouth tight, I let out an agitated sigh. “And the girl?”

“His daughter is out shopping right now. I imagine she will come back with more of those ridiculously overpriced things that she never wears. Her closet it full of designer items with the tags still on. Then I think she is going out for a lunch with Balakin after that. I can’t confirm it one hundred percent, it's just what I overheard this morning. I’ve emailed you the report on where she's gone and what she’s been doing lately.”

“She’s just being daddy’s little princess, splashing around with his credit cards and doing nothing valuable with her life. It should have been her that died. Not my little sister.”

Ivan is quiet on the other side of the phone.

I take a slow breath. There is no point in starting to think about my little sister now. I will get revenge for her life. I have to focus on my plan.

“Ok, Ivan. Anything else to report from the recent weeks?”

“I think I covered it all, sir. Mm. Apart from what I’ve told you, I think they have another holiday planned for next month. I’m still waiting to hear if it is a holiday or a business trip, but with the bookings I saw, it looks more like entertainment than anything else. Oh, and tomorrow night there is some event here at the house. The guest list looks high profile.”

“Fine. Thanks for the update. We’ll chat again soon, whenever you can get away for a bit. But you're still good there, right? Not in any danger?”

“No—they don’t suspect me. I’m good here. Remember, I got promoted two weeks ago to head of security. It’ll come in handy when we play out the next part of your plan.”

“Definitely. Nice job on that.”

I hang up the phone and stare at the blank screen for a moment. So much has happened in the last five years, but also so little, because I’ve had to be patient in carrying out my plot.

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