Page 85 of Embracing the Dark Side

“Have we forgiven?” Adrik held a hand out behind him, and Filip quickly put a joint in his palm. As he put it between his lips, Filip lit it, and Adrik sucked in, holding it, watching the tip burn. In a room full of family that hadn’t come through when Vincent and Katia took over his rule, Adrik didn’t feel much like compromising. They were here because they feared moreretribution. Three gangs have been wiped out of existence. Turf wars have produced new territory. Polk Jail was now in the palm of his hand, with the fall of the Warden. The man had been so sure he couldn’t be persuaded, but he should have hidden his children better. Everyone had their price. And Adrik was skilled in finding it.

He had done the impossible, all in the span of eleven days.

Eleven days since he got out of jail, and he wasn’t done starting fires.

Any fool could see that Adrik was not a king to be forgotten. But hindsight did not bring forgiveness. They still needed to pay for their sins. Adrik was simply tired of killing. Now, he wanted to find new ways to torture. Sitting here with five mafia families was a good way to do it. They all waited with bated breath.

Yefim was trying to make peace. But Adrik didn’t want it.

“My nephew has had a rough time. We are very much looking forward to the offers to see how we can become more helpful to each other.”

“You blame us,” Oleg, the leader of the Moskal family, pointed out. “But it was your father that failed to come through.”

There was a wave of movement. Though the families all agreed on this point, they hadn’t the audacity to say it to Adrik’s face and weren’t about to. But Adrik didn't disagree. For the first time, his father did fail, and Adrik was a little resentful toward the old man.

“I’m curious what you plan to do with the Stephanovs. A war with them would be stupid. Taking down that baby cartel is nothing in comparison and not a prideful venture, to be sure. Any one of us could wipe out anant pile with the bottom of our foot, but we do not congratulate ourselves for it.”

“Am I congratulating myself?” Adrik snorted. “I didn’t think I had such time, with burying my father and brother and punishing all who failed me.” He looked at Yefim for an answer, but the man shrugged. “My plans with the Stephanovs are none of your business, and I will remind you, just this once. Do not talk to me like you speak to your son. Unless, of course, you are ready for him to take over.”

Oleg huffed and sat back, sneering at him. Oleg’s son stood behind him and thought it was humorous at least. He bowed his head to hide his smile. Someone else began to speak, but Oleg cut them off. “Then, will you share with us your plans with the Utkins? They have overtaken much of the Stephanov empire. Boris handed him nearly every gang from the harbor to Naples. How should we stand against them in their rampant attempt to expand?”

Adrik knew Boris had done something, but to partner with the Utkins was an odd thing to do. As far as he knew they were enemies. What changed between them?

Yefim went to speak, but Adrik interrupted. “The Utkins want what’s mine,” he revealed, and the panic was humorous. “They have been a shadow on my family for years. My father used to say wherever there is a Morozov, there is an Utkins. But Fedor is weak and has always been.”

“He is the biggest threat right now. How do you see him as weak?”

“He is afraid of my family. It is the only reason they have not attacked us in the past. They are hyenas, only picking at corpses in the dead of night. But I am back now. And like any nocturnal animal, they hide whenthe sun is out.” Adrik could see this wasn’t enough and continued. “Coincidentally, his two sons were caught in my territory, in a pathetic attempt to recruit. They are being well-treated in a house on the beach. This will keep him from attacking while I finish my expansion to the east.” Adrik sat back, smoke flowing through his nose. “To answer your question, how are you to stand against him? It is very simple. You do it or die. You will sacrifice yourselves, your wives, your daughters, your sons, your cars, whatever you must do, because there will be no second chances. And I assure you, death by Fedor Utkins is a better death than by me.”

Oleg was unimpressed. These old men who betted on the victors of Vietnam as they watched from their penthouses had no care for death threats. “And what do we get in return?”

“Apart from your life?”

Oleg sneered and glanced at the other old men in the area. Adrik was the youngest leader among them. Their sons sat quietly in the back, watching and learning, while Adrik sat at the table with men twice, three times his age. In their eyes, his family had failed them. Yakov had lost the battle. And they looked at Adrik as an inexperienced, rage-driven fool who was beaten by his wife. Adrik had done everything he could to change their opinion of him, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Instead, they whispered, trying to figure out how he had taken back ownership of his kingdom so quickly and competently. They assumed he had help, which put Yefim as the real leader they should be frightened of and made Adrik an overstepping, cocky prick.

“What do you want?” Adrik conceded, knowing there was always a give-and-take to these ‘compromises.’If he didn’t listen to their needs, they would likely go behind his back and meet with the Utkins.

“I have a daughter, and you need an heir.”

Adrik lowered his blunt to the ashtray, rolling it to put it out slowly. “I have an heir.”

“You have a daughter.” Oleg chuckled. “You do not have an heir.”

Adrik sat back and met Oleg’s eyes. Little did he know, Adrik was thinking of how to kill him. Men like Oleg were part of his father’s reign, but Adrik wanted to develop a new world. One where his daughter could be a fucking boss, and these small-dick men would swivel at her feet.

Oleg continued, “A binding contract with my daughter would give you ninety percent of my resources, and I would give you fifty percent of my annual income for the next five years or until she produces you a son. Whichever comes first.” Oleg sat smug, waiting with a pleased smile.

The wave that overtook the room was one of shock. No one offered that much in a contract. Instead of lowballing, Oleg had taken out anyone else in the competition, unable to meet such a high bid.

Yefim tried to remain stoic, but he slapped Adrik on the shoulder, squeezing as he took a sip of his tea. The offer was grand and could help bring all the power back to the Morozovs. Adrik could see the benefits roll across his brain like the reading of a will. The amount of money alone would allow him to invest in the airport he’s been trying to build since he bought land four months ago.

Adrik stood, buttoning his jacket. “I leave for Russia in an hour and leave my uncle in charge. If all is well by the time I return, I will consider your proposal.”

“Adrik,” Yefim hissed, reaching for his hand.

But Adrik turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t wait for Filip to open any doors; Adrik wanted to get far away from that room. He took the keys and dived into the driver’s seat, leaving his guards behind as he raced through the city streets.

Logic told him to take that proposal. There were too many rewards with little risk. And technically, there wasn’t a reason to say no. He did need a wife. And one that knew mafia life, knew her place, knew what was expected of her, and who would do her duty with zero rebellious qualities would be a great change of pace. He wouldn’t make the mistake he had made with Katia. He wouldn’t love her. He wouldn’t let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. He’d control her. He’d make her happy enough to keep her quiet but scared enough to never want for more. She’d stay out of his business. She’d never make him feel guilty for being a man in the Mafia. She’d keep her tears and her weaknesses, and he’d never hear one fucking sob.

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