Page 4 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Make?” I close my eyes. Never did I expect to see the day when I’d have to explain this to my own brother. The one who founded the Bratva Syndicate alongside me and our brothers in cities across the continent, all those years ago. “It’s what keeps us human beings. What makes us different than the Skull Kings or any of the other filth on the streets. Without it, we’re no better than they are.”

“Who wants to be better? Who needs a code that limits and hinders more than it helps?”

More murmuring. I should have cut Osip off long before. Days, weeks, maybe even years ago—this has been simmering.

Now, it’s time to stamp it out.

What I say next isn’t for him. It’s for my men. “The Bratva isn’t just about power. That’s not why we formed it, or why all you men joined it. Nor is it just about the riches. Not merely brotherhood or family. No.” I look at each of them. “We joined because we believed in a better world. Not one that was limited by the outside world’s morality—but one of our own choosing. A world we could shape to our very own limitlessness.” I bow my head. “But if we start disregarding the very laws we ourselves formed, if we start forgetting why we’re even here or in this at all, then there’s no point. We might as well break up and take what we can now.”

Silence, broken only by Osip’s bitterly muttered, “Your own brother.”

I don’t even glance his way. This isn’t about him anymore. I’m not going to convince him of anything; I can see that now.

No, he is lost, but the others … I scan the crowd again. All the cracks have sealed in. My men’s faces are hard with trust in me.

“So,” I say, “Does any man here agree with Osip? Does any man think our rules are outdated, limited? Does any man want to leave?”

Silence yet again. My men’s faces are stiff with certainty. They know what the Bratva means to them, just as well as they know what I must do.

Ludmil clears his throat. He’s right. That’s enough.

Enough talk. Enough speeches. Enough sidestepping around the one thing that can’t be sidestepped any longer. What we’re all here for.

I stop before Osip.

It’s time.

“Osip Vaknin,” I say. “You have been accused of the murder and defilement of civilians, and as the don of this Bratva, I find you guilty. Your punishment is …”

My voice trails off. The last word dies on my lips:executionis what I should say.

But I can’t say it.

I swallow, try again.

No words come.

The murmuring is growing. There’s a buzzing in my ears.

Do it. Just do it.

Osip is sneering up at me. I can’t just let him go.

My own brother.

Please, Gavril, you have to look after him. I won’t always be … I’m not going to … Please, Gavril…

My voice speaks of its own accord: “Your punishment is … exile.”

And then I stand there as the room erupts in stunned whispers. No less stunned than the shock waves in my head.

What have I done?

The punishment for breaking the rules is death. No exceptions.

After my brother broke one of our most basic rules, I’ve just broken another.

And still, Osip is unsatisfied.

---