Page 9 of Savage Reign

After that, we didn’t exchange many words, but it was known we had each other’s backs. After I got out of that shit-hole of a prison and started to take my bratva back, he was the first person I called.

Best decision I ever made. To this day, he’s saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.

“Well, that was a clusterfuck,” Vadim mutters, running a hand through his close-cropped brown hair as he leans back, exhaling slowly. “I figured they’d counter, maybe ask for a bigger slice, even some control over the terms. But a flat-out fuck you?”

I shake my head. “Didn’t see that coming, but it doesn’t mean I’m not prepared.”

“Prepared?”

I pour us both a generous shot of whiskey into the glass tumblers. I take a long sip, appreciating the smoky flavor. I hate vodka, but in a meeting like that, it’s more of a courtesy. Not that anything that went down was courteous.

I shrug. “Roman was very clear. They only do business with people related by blood or marriage. If that’s what he requires, that’s what he’ll get.”

His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“Because you are.” I chuckle, leaning forward to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Take us to my Moscow residence. We’re not flying back to St. Petersburg tonight.” I turn back to Vadim. “When I helped Roman rescue Sofiya in Greece, I walked away with a little insurance policy.”

“The fuck you did,” Vadim mutters, crossing his arms, waiting for the punchline.

“I grabbed the marriage certificate we both signed before leaving the chapel. Once we were back in Russia, I pulled some strings, greased some palms, and made the marriage legal… using highly illegal means.”

“Are you serious? You’re… married to Sofiya?”

“Technically speaking. The marriage was a contingency in case I needed leverage over the Syndicate.” I run a hand over the back of my neck, my mouth twisting into a smile. “Seems that day has come.”

Vadim leans back, huffing out a laugh. “You’re fucking crazy if you think Roman’s going to welcome you into the family with open arms.”

“He will if I apply the right kind of pressure.” I lift an eyebrow. “It’s time I claimed my wife and brought her back to my world. And I know Igor would agree.”

Igor Bocharov is my silent partner in the casino deal. He’s also the senior advisor to the minister of finance, which gives him political sway that he uses to favor the Zhukov Bratva. And like me, he’s a man who believes the end justifies the means, no matter what.

“You’ve suggested some fucked-up things before, but this…” He makes a mind-blown gesture with his hand. “The Syndicate is going to come at us with some serious firepower.”

I down the rest of my whiskey. “Roman doesn’t know where my estate is, and if by some miracle he figures it out and attempts an attack, he risks Sofiya’s life. If they want to see her again, they’ll agree to our terms.”

“Is this worth it?” he asks, voice low. “Making an enemy out of them?”

My hands curl into fists in my lap. “Yes, it’s fucking worth it.”

If life has taught me anything, it’s that power doesn’t betray you like people do. My brother proved that. Power doesn’t lie. It doesn’t pretend to care, only to leave you bleeding. Power is absolute.

For the past five years, I’ve worked to make myself untouchable, and I’ll crush anyone who stands in my way.

“In that case, please tell me you have a plan, because Sofiya won’t be easy to get to.”

He’s right. She has a guard with her at all times, but even the best protection has weak spots.

Because of Sofiya’s strategic importance, I’ve kept her under surveillance over the years. I know she’s studying dance in school and about to graduate. She’s a dedicated student, with a few close friends but mostly keeps to herself. She’s only had one boyfriend, and he’s damn lucky she dumped him before I got the chance to take care of him.

She was beautiful at seventeen, but at twenty-two, she’s dangerously alluring. She’s still too young for my thirty-four years, but my dick doesn’t seem to care. I’ve only seen her from afar—video clips and photos that my man sends me. But that’s been enough to awaken a possessive hunger.

I clear my throat, staring out at the city lights. “She’s performing in a dance recital two days from now. Roman mentioned earlier that he and Liza can’t make it. They’ll be in New York. Seems like a shame to miss such a… cultural event, don’t you think?”

He releases a low whistle. “What are you suggesting?”

“A little reconnaissance,” I say, rolling my shoulders. “We’ll go to the performance, check things out. If we see an opening, we take it. The chaos of a live show could work to our advantage.”

“If you say so,” he drawls.

---