Page 1 of Bratva Bastard

PROLOGUE

Maxim

My entire life I was made to believe I was an only child. One without a family, or a father. All I had growing up was my mother and, eventually, Uncle Gregori.

Yet, here I stood, trying to convince three men that we all shared the same mother. As if that wasn’t a difficult enough task, I had to convince them our mother was missing, too. Yeah, talk about your fucking luck.

“I need your help finding our mother,” I said, revealing the intention behind thisfamily reunion. “She’s missing and I think she might be in danger.”

Would the photograph I showed them be proof enough that I was telling the truth? I hoped so, because I’d hit a dead end with my investigation, and I needed help. Who better to help me find my mother than her own sons? I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that we were brothers. To me, they were “her sons” and nothing more. But in order to get their help, I had to play nice.

“Assuming you’re telling the truth,” said the man whom I recognized as the oldest brother, “When did she go missing?”

“It’s been a while. A few months, maybe? I’ve asked every one of my sources, and no one has seen her. I’ve even searched Belarus, but still…nothing. I’m running out of options, and I don’t know where else to look.”

“Belarus?” Ivan asked. It’s a pity I had to interrupt his wedding, but oh well... I needed help and this was my only opportunity. “Why Belarus?”

The older one placed a hand on the youngest brother’s shoulder, and told him, “Belarus is where our mother is from.”

“And where we lived for half my life,” I pointed out, earning a glare from the brothers. What, they didn’t like Belarus? Jeez, they were a serious bunch.

“Do you speak Belarusian?” The elder brother asked, and when I confirmed, he asked me to prove it. So I did. I spoke Belarusian to prove myself, but I was bitter while I did it. Not a fan of people telling me what to do.

“Wait a minute,” the middle brother said, still not convinced that I was telling the truth. “Anyone can learn Belarusian. I need more proof that you are who you say you are.” His arms were crossed and he stood with dominance, unwavering.

I shrugged, circling my hand through the air as if trying to manifest the proof. “Okay… uhh…” I tried to think of something else as proof. Personal information? Eh, they were in the Bratva. Anyone could get that information. Then it came to me and I snapped my fingers. “Alright, did she ever sing you a nursery rhyme? The one her daddy sang to her?”

Without waiting for an answer, I hummed the tune, hoping it would be enough to sway them. Mother told me once that the nursery rhyme was our little secret to be passed down through the generations. Her father sang it to her, and she sang it to me. She could’ve been bullshitting me about it being a secret, attempting to make a simple song a thrilling experience for a child, but I was grasping at straws.

The oldest’s eyes softened, and he nodded slightly. The other two weren’t as persuaded, but at least I had one that was coming around to my side.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” I said with a sigh. “I’m not interested in brotherly bonding, or trying to reunite with my lost family. My mother is missing and I’m trying to find her. That’s it. I can’t do it on my own, and I came to you guys for help. I’m not looking for anything more than that. If you don’t trust me, don’t believe that I’m your brother—fine. Whatever. I don’t really give a flying fuck what you think. But can you please help me find my mother?Ourmother,” I corrected.

* * *

It’d beenseveral months since Ivan’s wedding. That was the name of the groom, the youngest brother. After I’d convinced the brothers that I wasn’t lying, they brought me inside for a piece of cake and briefly introduced me to their families.

Every one of them was recently married within the last few years, and even had children—except for Dimitry, but his wife was expecting, so I lumped him in with the others.

The women were much more trusting and hospitable than their husbands. They obviously weren’t brought up in the Bratva lifestyle, but it was a refreshing change.

Sophia asked me about my mother, Gemma asked where I was staying, and Willow asked if I had a wife. Whereas the brothers only asked about my intentions, their wives asked about my personal life, while the men listened attentively to every detail, trying to decipher how much was true.

I was many things, but a liar was not one.

Though it took Ivan and Dimitry time to accept me as their brother, Misha was on board from the start. In a sense, he took me under his wing, offering help in my investigation of our mother’s whereabouts, and taking me in to live with him temporarily while we sorted out the details of her disappearance.

I told them everything I knew—we were living in St. Petersburg, running both a money-laundering and drug-peddling business. One day, she left to meet up with Gregori, but he called a few hours later saying she never showed up. We checked around, but no one had seen her. She had essentially vanished from St. Petersburg.

She had no known enemies. There was one man—some young moron who started his own drug-smuggling business that fucked with ours and killed our men—but we took him out a while back, so he was no longer a threat.

Since the trail had run cold, Ivan left to live in Greece with his family, claiming he was never close to her anyway. Which I understood, given he was a baby when she left him.

That left me, Misha, and Dimitry remaining in Moscow, searching for our mother. But, life goes on, and I had my business in St. Petersburg to keep up with. Gregori said he would handle things there, but I had to check in every day and make decisions over the phone, going back once a week to see Gregori in person. Every visit, I had the same news about my mother: no new leads.

And because life went on, the Koslovs’—or, my brothers’—business affairs in Moscow had other threats to worry about, and mother’s disappearance was put on the back burner. We still looked, but there wasn’t much more we could do. Apparently, they’d been searching for her for years, so this was nothing new to them. They knew how to move on.

“We need to arrange a meeting with Sorokin to work together,” Misha said one day when we had a meeting in his office—Ivan over a video chat while Dimitry and I were in person. “I know he’s our enemy, but he’s willing to find some sort of middle ground that can benefit us both, which lessens some of the risk for our men, too.”

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