Page 106 of Scarlet Vows
For a second, his eyes bug, but then he chuckles. “You’re joking.”
“Please don’t send people fruit baskets or a severed head. They’re an ally, so just apologize for me. And if they can’t do later, then I’ll make it up to them later.”
He nods and then frowns. “Why can’t we make the meeting?”
“The bar we own that Aleksandr always had bigger meetings at?”
He nods again.
That’s a tradition we’ll be ending today, but I keep that to myself. Fuck that nasty old man.
“Gather our army there, Melor. I’ve got something to say.”
“I’m on it,” he says. “I’ll have them all there in half an hour.”
“Anyone who doesn’t make it or is late is out, understood?”
“Da.”
It’s too earlyfor vodka, but the bottles are out, shot glasses poured, and I’m on my third. I’m nowhere near affected by it, apart from the warmth in my belly. But I’m aware of the theatrics of this game, and a strong leader will drink with his men no matter what the time.
Plus, we’re Russian. I’d have black bread and the trimmings out, but they don’t have any here.
I’m pouring my new shot when they come in. Melor joins me and downs a few shots, then he, too, fills his glass and waits. The men eye the drinks, take one, but don’t drink from them.
Not yet.
Though I can see a few want to as a “fuck you” to me.
No one is late, though a few stragglers turn up right on time.
I wait until the doors are closed and the men fall silent.
“Like it or not, I’m your pakhan. By right and by birth. What I’m not is my grandfather, but I’m just as strong as him. You’ll find I’m a proactive leader, and I refuse to sit back and wait for our enemies to strike.
“I’ve learned the Simonov Bratva started this altercation in the hopes we’ll either cave, do a deal, or start a war. Butthey don’t expect a precision strike. We’ll be attacking the Simonov Bratva tonight and take out Abram Simonov.
A murmur runs through the crowd.
I hold up my hand to silence them. “He isn’t liked by his men. He’s unwilling to trust and unwilling to put his neck where his mouth is, preferring to send them to the slaughter. I don’t believe in slaughtering my men. I stand with them. I fight with them and for them.
“I trust them. Tonight, we’ll send a clear message to their bratva and their allies and others who might wish to cross us that me and my bratva are not to be messed with.”
I hold up my glass, and Melor does the same.
“Za zdorovyye!”I cry.
“Za zdorovyye!” Melor shouts.
And the men cheer, “To your health!” back in Russian.
Everyone downs their drinks, and then more vodka flows.
I quiet them all down.
“You need to listen to me,” I say, switching to Russian completely, “and listen well. I didn’t have much family growing up, but what I had, whether by blood or through bonding friendship, I held it to the highest degree. Family is lifeblood. It’s loyalty. It’s having each other’s backs.
“You’re all my family now, and each and every one of you is important. We form a machine, a family, a bratva that’s strong because of loyalty and brotherhood. Of trust and honor. Thank you.”
