Page 36 of Inevitable Endings
“Aslanov…” she murmurs, the name falling from her lips like a curse. “You shouldn’t be thinking about him right now, Isabella. It’s not—”
“But I can’t help it,” I cut her off, my voice more forceful than I expect it to be. “That tattoo, Ada, it’s not a coincidence. It’s the same symbol. It means something. I’m not imagining it.”
Ada’s back is still to me, but I can feel the tension between us now, thick and suffocating. She takes a slow, shaky breath, like she’s trying to calm herself before answering. And when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more guarded.
“It’s a part of them,” she says, her words clipped. “The Bratva. That symbol, it’s a mark of power. A sign of status. It’s not just a tattoo. It’s something much older. Something they use to define their ranks, their hierarchy. The ones with it on their shoulders are higher up, closer to thePakhan. The ones with it on their knees...” She pauses, her voice almost shaking. “It means they’re still climbing, they bow to only a few.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, he is dead and yet he is still all around.
“If he’s part of the Bratva,” she says quietly, “he’s either a message or a target. And if they find him…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I don’t need her to. The implication is clear. “If they find him, he won’t last long.”
I feel sick, a wave of nausea rising in my stomach. The man on the gurney wasn’t just a victim. He was part of something much darker. Something we’re both already tangled in without even realizing it.
The silence between us feels like a vacuum, pulling everything heavy into its center. I’m trying to steady my breathing, to stop the blood rushing in my ears. But it’s impossible. Ada’s words are echoing in my mind, and the truth of them makes my stomach churn.
It’s not just a piece of ink on skin; it’s a damn badge of survival in their world. But even as the pieces of this puzzle become clear, it feels like we’re standing in the middle of something that’s already been set into motion.
But what?
“Ada…” My voice feels tight, like I’m trying to pull the words from deep within me. “What is aPakhan, really? What does it mean?”
Ada takes a slow breath, almost as if she’s preparing herself to answer. Then, finally, she turns toward me, her face pale, a shadow of something darker hiding behind her eyes.
“Aslanov…” She pauses, and I can feel the weight of the name pressing down on her. “Aslanov was thePakhanof the Bratva. He was the highest man in the organization, the boss. The one everyone answers to. The one who controls everything—the drugs, the money, the deals, the lives. He was the center of it all.”
She observes me as his name rolls off her lips like a sin.
“He was the one who kept the Bratva in line. He made the rules. And when he spoke, people listened. But now…” Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper, “Now that he’s dead, there’s chaos. No one knows who’s going to take his place, and the power vacuum... the underworld doesn’t function without a leader.”
Ada’s eyes flicker toward me, but they don’t quite meet mine. Her gaze is distant, like she’s caught somewhere between the past and the present.
I look at her, confused, a knot tightening in my stomach.
“Did Aslanov have a cross tattooed on his chest?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine.
“A cross?” I repeat, my throat tightening. “A cross... where?”
“On his chest. Did he have one?” she asks again, urgency creeping into her voice.
I think back, my memories flashing like images I don’t want to recall. Aslanov... His chest, his muscular, tattooed body. The way he stood, that aura of control, of power. I’d seen him without a shirt more times than I care to count. His tattoos, his arms, his neck, his chest, were a map of his life, his history, his power.A viper with its fangs bared, coiling around his arm, its body twisting with violent intent. Slavic symbols marking him, his heritage, his ties to this dark world.
And yes... there it was.
A cross.
Nestled in the center of his chest.
I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. “Yes,’’ I say, my voice barely a whisper. ‘‘He had a cross on his chest.”
Ada looks away for a moment, her eyes distant, haunted. “Well there you have it, that is the symbol of thePakhan. The one who controls life and death. And if Aslanov had it…” She swallows hard, clearly struggling to find the words. “Whoever takes his place, whoever tries to fill that power vacuum, they’ll inherit this symbol. It’s a warning. To enemies. To everyone. And if someone is trying to take this place, it’ll become a war that stretches far beyond the world of organized crime.’’
The words escape me in a murmur, almost involuntary. “Dominik.”
Ada’s head snaps toward me, her eyes sharp with confusion. “Who?” she asks, her voice edged with curiosity and something darker, as if she already knows she isn’t going to like the answer.
I swallow hard, my throat dry as dust. The name slips out in a tight whisper. “Dominik... He’s Aslanov’s cousin. His only family. He has to be his successor.”
Ada’s expression changes immediately. Her eyes narrow, and her lips press into a thin line. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place for her now, and I can see the realization dawning. She’s known this world too long. Known what happens when the head of an empire falls.
