Page 81 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“Just give me a list,” Agafon shakes his head. “Nikandr.” He turns to my brother. “Make one of our own.”
I want to fall apart. I want to put myself into a hole and wake up from this nightmare. The world around me disappears, and I feel my knees weaken, my hands tremble, and my breath comes in little rasps. Rurik walks up to me and puts a soft hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her, brother,” he whispers.
I nod, because that’s the only thing I can do. Ten minutes later, we’re going over our list of enemies, but none ring a bell.
Until, at last, Tikhon mentions the Kuznetsovs.
Suddenly, I remember.
“Tell me about them, “ I demand.
Tikhon sits up straighter, like he’s got hope. “Micky Kuznetsov was Viktor’s right-hand man. After Viktor died, we thought his loyalists had disbanded or joined us.”
“But they didn’t,” Andrei finishes. “The Kuznetsovs hid low, and we learned recently that they want to uproot us. Theythink Viktor’s methods were better and that we don’t rule with an iron fist like he did. They hate us. Think we’re weak.”
“Fuck,” Tikhon groans. “Do you think it could be them? For allowing our alliance after Viktor’s death?”
“It’s them,” I say with certainty.
“How do you know?” Tikhon leans forward, his eyes on me.
“Because, when I took her that night, the Kuznetsovs sold her to me. At first, she looked like a girl in trouble, and I realized who she was. Arina Sokolov. It was clear she wasn’t with them; they had taken her, and in a way, I saved her.”
“Fuck!” Tikhon slams his fist into a cushion.
I turn to my brothers. “Call everyone in. We need to find her now.”
For a moment, no one moves, and it seems like the old hatred is freezing us in place. But then, Agafon nods. “Melor, start making calls. Nikandr, get the weapons.”
“We work together on this,” I tell Tikhon. “We find her, then we go back to hating each other.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Fine. I have a lead on where Kuznetsov might be holed up.”
The next hour is a blur of planning and preparation. We review maps, load and check our weapons, and both the Sokolov and Letvin men form cross-functional teams.
All that matters is that Arina stays safe.
Tikhon receives a call just then and joins us back at the table. He points to a warehouse on the east side. “Drone images say there are at least fifteen men at this location, and the vehicle plates are confirmed to be theirs. This is their spot.”
“Excellent,” I say. “We take thirty of our own, and let’s split them to cover every entry and exit.
“Good idea,” Tikhon says, and from across the table, gives me one single nod of acknowledgement. I nod back.
Agafon claps his hands, brings us into motion: “Let’s go get her.”
The convoy of black SUVs moves silently through the night. I ride with Tikhon and two of my brothers. None of us speaks.
When we reach the warehouse, we split into teams. I’m with Tikhon, and for once, I don’t mind. I know no one will fighter harder for her than Tikhon and me. Together, we’ll get Arina back, or die trying.
We keep to the shadows as we move toward the building. A guard stands by the door, and fortunately, he’s distracted by his phone. At Tikhon’s signal, one of his men takes the guard out silently with a knife to the throat.
We slip inside.
The warehouse is dark with stacks of crates providing cover as we advance. I hear some voices of men laughing and chatting coming up from ahead. I signal to my team to spread out, then peek around a corner.
Five men sit around a table playing cards, and there is no sign of Arina. Tikhon comes to my side, and I see him glower at Micky Kuznetsov, the leader of the pack himself.
“You go on to the second floor,” he whispers, pointing to the metal stairway leading up. “She’s not here, so they’re probably keeping her up there.”
