Page 2 of Zafira

“You saw that Bogdan took the money?” Zafira’s voice cracked as she felt her entire life crumble to pieces.

“Yes, moya doch’, the check was cleared by the bank. I’m so sorry for your heartache, but that man isn’t worth your tears.”

“You will see, Zafira,” her father snickered. “He’s Viktor’s best man at the wedding, but he won’t attend. He’s gone off with the money.”

Zafira’s heart died a little at that moment. Bogdan Rusu was the only man she had ever wanted and had fallen in love with. It wasn’t just a first love scoffed; it was a once-in-a-lifetime true love denied to grow to full potential.

“Very well, Papa. If Bogdan isn’t at the chapel standing next to Viktor as his best man, I will marry him.”

“And will you do everything in your power to make the marriage a success and make us proud?”

“I will come to love him, Papa. I will give him a family and be the best supportive Bratva wife ever born.”

“I believe you, daughter.” Anatoly narrowed his eyes. “Men like Bogdan always come back. If he does, however far in the future, will you remember the vows you’re about to make to Viktor and forsake whatever feelings you still have for Bogdan?”

“If Bogdan truly sold our love for a couple of million rubles, he’s not worth a moment of my time, Papa. I will honor my vows, and I will come to love my husband.”

One year later... The IK-3 penal colony, Kharp in the Yamalo-Nenets region, 1200 miles northeast of Moscow...

“This is it, Prisoner R666. The Day of the Damned.” An evil cackle sprang from the warden’s lips. He was in his element, and although the prisoner’s only response was a stoic stare, it was obvious that he relished every moment of the full control he had over the worthless vermin—as he referred to the inmates—who were incarcerated in the prison. “Win this fight, and you will walk out of here a free man.”

Bogdan Rusu didn’t bother responding. He had learned early on to keep his mouth shut. No one listened, and the only benefit earned from defiance was time in the darkest solitude hellhole on earth.

That he was in prison for no reason and without charges didn’t matter. All that did was that his size and strength had made the whiny little shit of a warden thousands of rubles every week since the first day he had woken up in a cell a year ago—on the very day the woman he loved got married to his best friend... And he hadn’t been there to put a stop to it.

The bargain the warden had struck with him was the only thing Bogdan had been clinging to, however, he realized over time Boris Balakirev was a bald-faced liar. Bogdan wasn’t naive. Boris had no intention of letting the man who was his money pit walk out of prison.

The Day of the Damned was an annual event where the champions of prison colonies across Russia fought like animals for survival in a cage... to the death. Only the strongest and bravest survived, and it came with a very hefty cash purse to the winning prison. With Bogdan as their champion, it was the first year the IK-3 penal colony stood a chance. Of course, the prison wouldn’t benefit one ruble from that money. It would all go straight into Boris Balakirev’s back pocket.

Penal colonies were descendants of Soviet-era gulags, the notorious Stalin-era labor camps where thousands of Russians lost their lives. In Kharp, Navalny temperatures were as low as -40°C. There was little light for six months of the year, and in summer, mosquitoes and midges became an inmate’s worst enemies.

Bogdan was incarcerated in the exceptional regime. A detention that was reserved for the most dangerous prisoners, those sentenced to life imprisonment or those whose death sentence had been commuted to life imprisonment. Since Bogdan had committed no crime and was illegally detained, he only had one assumption to make.

Konstantin Guzun, Viktor’s father, had found out about him and Zafira. Bogdan knew him well enough to realize it would be his way of making sure the future he had set out for his eldest son would come to fruition. To him, it didn’t matter that Zafira didn’t love Viktor... But as with everything in his entire life... what Viktor wanted, Viktor got.

Konstantin wanted the picture-perfect family for Viktor, which included a wife who was well-known and came from a feared Bratva family. Zafira was perfect in every way.

What hurt more than losing the woman he loved was the agony of not knowing whether his best friend, since they were in pre-school, had betrayed him as well. Was it only Konstantin and Anatoly Solovyov involved in his illegal incarceration? Or did Viktor play a part as well?

Thinking of the humiliation and anger that had been at war inside himself the day Anatoly gave him the check and told him to stay away from Zafira caused a wave of despair to wash over him. He had been fighting the darkness from rearing its head for an entire year, knowing if he allowed it to come to light, he might never find a way to leave this hellhole.

Bogdan had stared at the amount boldly scribbled on the check, more money than many families would ever earn in a lifetime. For him, it was a pittance to the wealth he had at his disposal. No one, not even Viktor and the Guzun family, knew where Bogdan originated from. To be honest, neither had he... until his twenty-first birthday, when a legal team had come for him.

His mother had been banned from her family when she married Bogdan’s father. The day she died of a heart attack was the day his grandfather, the Grand Duke Matvey Mikhailovich Romanov, claimed his only living family. Upon his death, four months before Bogdan was jailed, as his grandson, he inherited everything, even the coveted title of Grand Duke. None of which mattered to him since he had lost the only person he ever wanted to share his life story with.

It ended now... here today. He had wallowed in self-pity long enough. Today was the day he took back his life. It was time Zafira found out the truth. He hadn’t walked out of her life with her father’s money. In fact, the check was still at the family castle in Moscow—kept as a reminder to never lose all sense of humanity in the vile world of the Bratva and become like Konstantin Guzun and Anatoly Solovyov.

He could only hope and pray Zafira hadn’t fallen prey to the same fate most of the Bratva Pakhans’ wives did—and became cold and filled with emptiness.

“YA govoryu s toboy! Hey, R666! I’m talking to you,” Boris sneered. He quickly stepped back as Bogdan turned his head and looked at him. Everyone knew better than to invade the giant man’s personal space. “Don’t give me that look,” Boris defended himself. “You spaced out, and the fights are about to start. We need to take our place next to the cage.” He snickered as he rubbed his hands together in expectation. “I suspect the matches are going to be vicious and short. You might end up in the cage much quicker than anticipated.”

“I’m walking out of this colony today, Warden Balakirev.”

Boris avoided his gaze, but his head bobbed up and down. “Of course. Of course. I promised, didn’t I?”

“You’re not hearing me, Warden.” Bogdan’s voice turned ominous. “I’m walking out of the colony today. It’s your choice whether I leave with you by my side or with your head separated from your body tucked under my arm.”

Balakirev turned as white as a sheet. “Th-There’s no need to threaten me, R666. I made a promise. I will keep my word.”

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