Page 87 of Stolen By The Bratva King

Dante thought fear could build an empire, but fear crumbles faster than loyalty. Shared values and goals are what make unbreakable bonds like the ones I have with Roman and Viktor; these are the foundations that make our bratva what it is, and we will always fight for it.

A chancer like Dante could never understand that.

We spot The Cobra within twenty minutes of setting out, recognizable by its fucking stupid snake flag.

Once we’ve performed the pre-agreed coded flashing lights sequence—thanks for the intel, Anton—they lower their flag and signal us to approach.

We move into position like it’s routine, but nothing about this feels like an average bratva skirmish.

“Get below, Leon,” Roman says. “We’re tooled up and ready. We’ll lead the others and get control fast, then you can board and find Dante.”

“Don’t kill him,” I say. “I mean it, Roman. He’s a nasty cunt and will get your back up, but try to keep your head so you don’t blow off his.”

Roman nods, handing a belt of grenades to Viktor. “I’ll hold off, I promise. How many do you think are on board?”

“Civilians? No idea,” I shrug. “Could be any number of Dante’s men, but I doubt they’ll put up much of a fight once they realize they’re rumbled. Let’s just get this over with.”

I look Viktor up and down. “Have you forgotten your fucking Kevlar? How many goddamn times we gotta go through this?”

“Fuck, sorry.” Viktor grabs a vest from the lockbox on the deck.

“I’m gonna get a reminder tattooed on your arm,” I say. “You think I wanna have to tell your mom that my stepson was killed by a fatal dose of his own stupidity?”

“So many years you’ve been threatening to marry my mother, and now that joke is finally defunct because you married Emery,” Viktor says with a grin.

I flip him off. “I’m gonna take my famous face out of the frame. As soon as you’ve taken The Cobra, I’ll come aboard and take up my grievance with Dante.”

“What shall we do with their boat?” Roman asks. “Your call, Boss.”

Roman’s a damn good friend. He handed me his bratva to hold in trust so he could step down, but he’s never once held it over me.

He’s no longer pakhan, and he’s okay with that because he knows I’d never freeze him out. We built this empire together, fighting shoulder to shoulder, and this raid feels like old times.

“We got plenty of grenades?” I ask.

“More than we could ever need,” Roman replies. “I brought everything in the armory, which was enough to obliterate a small country.”

“Or a large boat.” I turn away, making for the stairs that lead below the deck. “I say we send the floating trash pile to the bottom of the river, bodies and all. Now, let’s do this.”

The sound of our engine’s motor blends with another, louder one, and I realize we’re pulling alongside The Cobra.

I take a moment to check my phone, but Emery hasn’t messaged me. Then I see I have no phone signal, not even one flickering bar to depend on.

I can’t wait to look at Dante’s face as he bitches and begs. That bastard has caused me a world of trouble, but worse—he hurt my wife. More than once, in many ways, until she was a shell of the woman she should have been.

I had to take her apart and put her back together, and she still has a way to go.

Emery is stronger than her idiot ex-fiancé could possibly understand. It’s tempting to take him prisoner and deliver him hog-tied to my wife’s feet, but it’s too risky.

Better to make a clean sweep tonight and put the whole sordid matter to rest so Emery and I can get on with our lives.

Muffled voices overhead. Roman, making contact with someone. All he has to do is get boots on their deck and?—

A sound above me like thunder. Our boys were waiting in the adjacent under-deck lounge, and it sounds like all of them are running up at once. The racket above is almost deafening, like a game of ten-pin bowling inside my head.

Gunshots. Yelling.

Already?This is getting ugly real fast.

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