Page 7 of Forced Bratva Hostage

I jerked my head, watching him rise to his feet, ready to take his leave. My face contorted into a faint frown. “Wait, that's it? You're just gonna leave?” My blood boiled with annoyance as I glared at him.

“If you can't help me, then I need to find a way to help myself,” he replied, his voice dropping to a hushed tone and his eyes avoiding mine.

I rose to my feet, a dismissive laugh escaping my lips. “You're unbelievable.” My scowl deepened, creating more creases on my forehead.

He exhaled sharply and stormed out without saying a word, leaving me standing perplexed in my living room, simmering in silence.

My mind flooded with anger, disappointment, and pain as the familiar ache of abandonment settled in. When was he going to realize that beneath this strong, independent woman was a little girl in desperate need of her father's attention?

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Chapter 3 – Afanasy

Two months was the period I was given to get the project done—to round up a list of our debtors and make them pay up what they owed.

By any means necessary.

This was two weeks ago, and my team, headed by Yakov, had been busy making sure my instructions and that of thePakhan'swere carried out effectively.

This hadn't happened before—the Tarasov Bratva facing such a serious financial crisis. It was a blow to our organization, a disgrace to what we stood for, and I was more than ready to intervene.

Of course, nobody outside the board of directors knew exactly what was going on, hence the Bratva reputation was still intact. But still, it was too big a risk to remain in such a dire situation.

I seethed at the thought of debtors being brave enough to ignore their obligation to the Bratva. The idea that they were roaming free in the city and beyond without fear of the Bratva coming to collect filled me with rage.

My blood boiled, and my jaw clenched as I sat in my chair at the office.

Those sick fucks must think we'd grown soft or had forgotten about their debts, hence the reason for their nonchalance in paying back what they owed.

Our organization was notorious for its ruthlessness, cruelty, and zero tolerance toward debtors who refused to pay up.

Over the past two weeks, everyone on my list received a blunt reminder of how merciless we could be when it came downto business. They forgot that they were playing with fire, and it was time we made them feel the heat.

Yakov and his team unleashed hell's fury on those who refused to comply. Some begged for mercy, begged for more time, but the Bratva was fresh out of patience.

The chaos and destruction my men left in their wake sent a clear message to everyone in the city who had unfinished business with the Tarasov Bratva.

The fear of being our next target pushed a lot of them into compliance, and there was a massive inflow of funds into all of our accounts.

Those who went into hiding in the hopes of eluding my men were all fished out, one by one. Those who tried to escape were hunted down like animals.

It was a cold day in hell this past fortnight, and under my command, my men unleashed fire and brimstone, wreaking havoc and chaos wherever they went.

Afanasy Tarasov was the name on our debtors’ lips—the name that struck fear into their hearts on the realization that I was the man behind their pain and torment.

In the criminal underworld, my name spread like wildfire, inflicting horror on those whose names were on my list. They knew what fate awaited them should they not pay up what they owed.

They knew that I would come for them, and they trembled, knowing my methods would crush their spirits before my fists would shatter their bones.

The shadow world was ablaze with chaos and disorder as the Bratva's wrath stirred up a suffocating heat that everyone could feel. Our fury burned like hellfire, leaving no one untouched.

“Boss,” Yakov called, his thick voice dripping with reverence.

I snapped out of my thoughts, my eyes shifting across his face as he sat in the leather armchair in front of my desk.

Beside him sat Anatoli, a tall, skinny, bald man with a deceptively frail physique that made him appear weak when, in fact, he had the strength of four men.

His lanky frame often misled his opponents, causing them to underestimate him, oblivious to the danger he posed.

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