Page 59 of Bound to the Bratva
Sadly, my mother is the kind of woman who will pretend to be your friend, but will have no intentions of actually being genuine. She uses it as a guise to get whatever information she’s fishing for.
The streets of downtown Chicago are bustling with activity, but my focus is razor-sharp as I make my rounds to the other Russian families. I need to assert my presence, let them know I’m here and that they can count on my support if they need it.
I stride into a dimly lit backroom of a cigar store, the air thick with smoke and the scent of old whiskey. All eyes turn to me as I enter the space. “Gentlemen,” I announce in a low, authoritative tone. “I’m Maxim Volkolv, and I’m here to let you know that my residency here in Chicago is permanent. Should you have an issue you need addressed, come to me.”
One of the men, a burly fellow with a scarred face, narrows his eyes. “And why should we trust you, huh? You claim to be Maxim Volkolv, but what do you think he’d do if he knew you were impersonating him, hmm?”
I level him with a cold stare. “I’m no imposter, that’s why. Certainly some of you know I married Aria Zuyev a few weeks ago,” I scan my eyes around the room and one man speaks up.
“It’s true, and he isn’t no imposter. I saw him go into the church.” The man states.
Licking my lips, I continue. “One day I’ll be the one who’s going to run the Bratva, and this city. I’ve come here to see you so your families know you have support, if you need it. I take care of my people, regardless if you’re from a high-born Russian family or not.”
That’s one area where my father could have improved things. He wants to only focus on the high-born Russian families, but that makes no sense. We need to make sure that the lower families are happy too, because with their happiness comes unwavered loyalty.
The room falls silent, the tension palpable as the reality sinks in. I am indeed Maxim Volkolv, and I’m unlike any member of the Bratva they’ve ever met.
Slowly, the men nod.
One of the men in the back speaks up, “Why do you want us to come to you? Usually the lot of you makes us stick amongst our own ranks.”
I lean against the wall and look out among the crowd. “Firstly, I’m not like others you’ve met before. I’m not going to be the same kind of leader that my father is. He couldn’t give two shits about any of you, and you know it. All he cares about is that his businesses are running well and no one fucks with him. He uses the connections the higher born Russian families have for that. I’m here to develop a relationship with you, see what needs you have, what issues you’re dealing with. We’re all on the same side here.”
The man who greeted me first nods, “I like what you have to say, but is your money where your mouth is, or are you just flapping your jaws?”
I chuckle lowly, “I’m a man of action, not empty promises. In time, you’ll all see that. I don’t expect your trust right now. However, I do expect your loyalty.”
A middle-aged man near the front speaks, who has black hair and a wide nose. “Trust will be earned, but we’re already loyal to you. We have no option there. You’re a Volkolv, and we’re below you.”
I shake my head, “I don’t like that. You’re not below me. We’re all part of the same organization, so to speak. The truth is, we have enemies and as things start to change, more are going to come for us. I won’t lead the way my father does, and I’m not going to be ruling out of New York and Moscow. My operations will be based here, in Chicago.” I make sure to keep my eyes on every man in the room. “I am going to enlist your help, each and every one of you. So, if you want a job you have it. If you need help for your families I will give it.”
The men look among themselves, pleasantly surprised by my words. An older man in the back with a long beard pipes up, “My daughter and grandkids are in a bad area of town. Her daughter was shot last week in the crossfire. What can you do about that?”
Clearing my throat, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “We’ll get her into a safer neighborhood for one, and I’ll find the one responsible for that bullet.” The old man seems pleased with my answer, so I continue. “I will need her information so I can contact her, but this will be handled.”
For the next half an hour I make introductions with the men in the room, and for the most part I’m well received. I even get the information for the man’s daughter. I am going to look into the shooting, but what I’m understanding from the crowd is a lot of their families live in bad areas.
I shoot off an email to my realtor and let her know what I’m looking for—business opportunities, like pre-existing apartment buildings or condominium complexes. I let her know it would be ideal if she could find something that has a few vacancies, expecting she’ll email me back within a few hours.
Overall, my introduction this evening has gone well. My father would never do anything like this, which only proves I’m not going to be the same kind of leader. I’m going to be better to my people—all of them. I’m not solely going to care about the richer families, because the lower ones are our soldiers. They’re the ones we have on the streets.
I say my goodbyes and I’m told to stop in anytime. With that, I feel like my trip has been a success.
Leaving the cigar store, I’m back on the street. Andrei is with Aria, and supposedly his friend will be flying in this week to start guarding me. In the meantime, I’m more than capable of defending myself.
I reach an intersection and push the button on the traffic light to signal for it to change. A flash of white catches my eye across the street. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her—Natalya.
Fuck, I thought she would have run away by now. I figured she would have heeded my warning and fled the city, went to some forbidden paradise where she’d never be seen again.
Without a word, I dart across the street, weaving between moving cars until I reach the sidewalk. She walks quickly, dipping into an alleyway. I head straight for it, spotting her leaning against the rough brick wall, a coy smile playing on her full lips. “Hello, Maxim,” she purrs. “You look a little surprised to see me.”
Dread rolls through me at the sight of Natalya. Why the fuck would she be here? Is she stupid enough to stay? Her pale skin and snow-white hair are a stark contrast to the gritty urban setting. “Natalya,” I say, a hard edge to my voice. “Why the fuck are you still in Chicago?”
She pushes off the wall, taking a slow step toward me. “Did you really think I’d leave the place I grew up? Think again. Aria Zuyev isn’t the only powerhouse woman in these streets.” Her eyes glint with mischief.
I clench my jaw, “Volkolv. Her name is Volkolv now, and yes, she’s the only powerhouse woman in the streets because you’re nothing.”
Natalya lets out a soft laugh. “That’s adorable. You and I both know I’m the only powerhouse between the two of us. She never wanted to be in this life, Maxim. Wheras I embraced it, so I can’t wrap my head around why your family would chose an illegitimate bitch like her. I’m what you should have married. I’m the one you’ll be thinking about for years to come.” She runs a delicate finger down my chest. “One day, you’re going to regret your decision, and you’ll think back to this moment, wishing you never made an enemy of me.”
