Page 1 of Used Bratva Bride

Prologue - Mikhail

I wander the expansive grounds of the Sharov family estate, the solitude a familiar comfort. The dusk settles like a cloak over the landscape, softening the harsh lines of the distant city skyline, where lights flicker to life one by one.

It’s in these quiet moments, away from the watchful eyes and expectations of my family, that I feel most at peace. Yet, even in solitude, the weight of my future—a legacy written in shadows and whispered in warnings—presses heavily upon me.

As I make my way back to the house, I spot my uncle Valeri on the balcony. He appears relaxed, a rare state for a man usually marked by a stern demeanor and a mind burdened with strategy.

A bottle of vodka sits between two glasses on the small table beside him, untouched, as if its presence is merely symbolic. I hesitate, then decide to join him, curious about his uncharacteristic ease.

Valeri glances up as I approach, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Mikhail,” he greets, gesturing to the chair beside him. “Join me.”

I nod and take the seat, the city’s distant lights creating a halo around the darkening sky. The air is calm, carrying the faint scent of the estate’s gardens, a blend of earth and growth that seems almost alien to the nature of our family.

“You’re too closed off, Mikhail,” Valeri says after a moment, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between us. His observation isn’t accusatory but reflective. I glance at him, my guard instinctively rising. I’ve learned to keep my thoughts close, my emotions locked down. Feelings make you weak, or so I’ve convinced myself.

I don’t respond immediately, weighing the consequences of vulnerability, even with family. Valeri, however, continues, undeterred by my silence. “It’s like you’ve shut out the world. That’s no way to lead.”

His words are a soft blow, unexpected yet sharp in their accuracy. I stare out at the city, considering his words. Leadership, as I’ve observed, has always been about strength and fear. Yet Valeri suggests otherwise.

“One day, you’ll see that leading people isn’t just about fear,” he adds, his gaze now fixed on the horizon. “It’s about trust. You can’t get loyalty by shutting everyone out.”

I frown, the concept foreign and somewhat naive in my view. Trust is as fragile as glass, easily shattered and hard to repair. Yet, I remain silent, letting the idea swirl in the cool evening air between us.

Valeri seems to sense my skepticism but doesn’t push further. Instead, he leans back, letting the chair creak slightly under his weight. We sit there, the silence stretching into comfort, the kind that only comes with family—complicated but undeniable.

After a long pause, Valeri stands, moving to ruffle my hair, a gesture from my childhood that feels both familiar and out of place. “You’ll understand one day,” he says, a note of certainty in his voice as he turns to walk inside.

I sit there a while longer, alone with the flickering lights and the echo of his words. Trust. Loyalty. Concepts that seem more applicable to a world less brutal than ours. Yet the sincerity in Valeri’s voice, the conviction behind his words, haunts me.

Could there be strength in openness, power in vulnerability? It’s a puzzle, a contradiction to everything I’ve been raised to believe.

The night deepens, and I rise from the chair, the cool metal leaving a momentary chill on my skin. As I walk back into the house, the warmth from within feels stifling, confining.

I pause in the hallway, the portraits of past Sharovs lining the walls—men and women who wielded power with iron fists and cold hearts.

Is there another way? Could Valeri’s vision of leadership—a blend of strength and trust—truly shape a path forward not just for me, but for the legacy I’m destined to inherit?

These thoughts churn through my mind as I ascend the staircase to my room. The familiar confines of my space bring little comfort tonight. Instead, I find myself at the window, looking out over the estate, the gardens shrouded in darkness, the city beyond a maze of light and shadow.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there is wisdom in Valeri’s words. Maybe leadership isn’t just a solitary path but a journey made richer by those we dare to trust, those we allow close enough to see our vulnerabilities. Tonight, the walls I’ve built seem a little less necessary, the future a little less daunting.

As I finally turn away from the window, the resolve begins to form. I will consider Valeri’s advice, test the waters of trust and loyalty. After all, even the most hardened leaders need allies, and every empire, no matter how powerful, is built on more than just fear. It’s a lesson I’m not yet fully prepared to embrace, but one I am now willing to explore.

***

The rest of the week is a relentless barrage of lessons in brutality and power, each day a new testament to the harsh realities of the life I am destined to lead. These days serve as nothing more than vivid reminders of my future responsibilitiesas head of the Sharov empire—a future I neither desire nor feel prepared to embrace.

It’s late afternoon when I find myself seeking the solitude of the estate’s expansive grounds once more, the same paths I walked during my earlier conversation with Uncle Valeri. My steps are heavy, each one laden with the weight of decisions I’m not ready to make and violence I’m not sure I can stomach.

As fate would have it, I encounter Valeri again on the same balcony where we had our last meaningful discussion. He’s standing there, looking out over the estate with a pensive expression. He notices me and gestures for me to join him, his demeanor suggesting he’s aware of the tumultuous nature of my week.

“Tough day, Mikhail?” Valeri asks, his voice gentle, an invitation rather than an intrusion.

I nod, leaning against the railing, feeling the cold bite of the metal through my sleeves. “It seems like there’s no end to it,” I confess, the words escaping me before I can filter them through my usual restraint. “Every day brings a new challenge, a new test of my resolve. I know I’ll have to lead one day, but I’m not sure I want to.”

Valeri listens, his eyes studying me with a mixture of concern and understanding. “It’s good to talk about these things, Mikhail. Keeping it all inside won’t make you stronger. It’ll just eat away at you until there’s nothing left but the shell of a leader.”

I shake my head, frustrated not just by the situation but by my own perceived weakness in voicing it. “It was a momentary lapse, nothing more,” I retort sharply, my words clipped. “Discussing doubts or fears… it feels like indulging in luxuries I can’t afford. It won’t happen again.”

---