Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. He stalks past me and leaves the burned-out building. I’m alone in the ruined back room of Fed Jeweler, in the building where I learned how to be the man I am today, in the wreckage of my past.
And Lev’s right.
I walk around acting like I know better. Like I am better. I hold myself to impossible standards because I feel like I can meet them.
But here I am, just as ruined as everyone else.
“That was a tough speech to hear.”
I flinch and look over my shoulder. A man stands in the doorway, head tilted in my direction. His dark hair’s swept back and his dark eyes take me in with a curious frown.
Valentin Zeitsev.
The pakhan of the Zeitsev Bratva and Oleg’s boss, my boss’s boss, the head of the entire operation. He’s wearing an expensive dark suit and a crisp white shirt underneath.
“Maybe I needed to hear it,” I tell him. I bow my head slightly in respect.
Valentin steps into the room. He looks around curiously and kicks some debris with his thousand-dollar loafers like he doesn’t care if he gets ash all over them. He runs a hand through his hair and I catch a glimpse of tattoos all over his arm and at the collar of his shirt.
“You’re lucky, you know.” Valentin picks up a charred ledger—maybe the book I used to catalogue our new watches, it’s hard to say—and tosses it aside. Flakes of paper flutter through the air. “If Marino hadn’t done this, you’d be dead right now.”
I go very still. My heart rate ticks up but I will myself to stay calm. “How’s that, pakhan?”
He tilts his head, frowning. “I’m amazed you have the balls to call me that.”
“Until I hear otherwise, you’re still my leader.”
“What if I ordered you to cut your own throat.” He stares at me, deadpan. “Would you do it?”
“I’d bleed out at your feet.” I think I mean it too, but there’s a voice in the back of my head. If I die now, my child grows up without a father, and this was all for nothing. That conflicts with my deep sense of loyalty, and I don’t know how to square the two things.
“I almost believe you.” He smiles slightly and lightly brushes some ash from a table. “Fortunately, we don’t have to find out. Marino chose violence, which means killing you will do nothing. That would only be appeasing them and letting them get away with their bad behavior. Do you know how much money was in all this product?”
“Millions. I’m not sure of the exact figure.”
“And how much do you think we can save?”
“A few hundred thousand, if we’re lucky, but probably less.”
He points at me. “And that, right there, is the reason you’re alive. If Marino had done something less expensive and less public, I probably would’ve put a bullet in your head and forced Natalya to marry Adriano over your fucking corpse. Unfortunately, here we are.”
I steady myself and nod once. “I understand, pakhan.”
“Why’d you do it?” He sounds genuinely curious, and I realize he must not know the whole truth yet.
“She’s pregnant.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Her father neglected to mention that.”
“It’s my baby.”
Valentino nods to himself and walks a slow circuit around the room. I stay where I am, watching him. Nearby, just outside, I know there must be half a dozen soldiers studying my every move, waiting for an excuse to put a few bullets in my head.
“People do stupid shit for family,” he says as last and folds his hands behind his back. “I’m not going to say what you did was right or remotely smart, but at least I can understand the impulse.”
“I couldn’t abandon her.”
“I’m not going to bless your marriage. I’m not going to say it’s okay, what you did. As far as Oleg’s concerned, you’re a traitor to the Bratva and should be dealt with accordingly.” He holds up a hand to silence my retort. “However, because your situation isn’t so simple, and because the Italians decided to cross the line, I’m going to give you a chance.”
My mouth closes. A strange hope blossoms in my chest. Today did not go how I had hoped, but here is the single opportunity I need to make everything right.
“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“I’m giving you two jobs. First, patch tings over with Oleg. I don’t give a shit how you pull that off. You two don’t need to be close, but I can’t have my own people killing each other.”
I nod, even though I have no clue how that’ll ever happen. “And the second?”
“Fix things with the Italians. Kill them if you have to. Make peace if that makes sense. I don’t care, so long as it’s handled. I’ll provide you with resources and manpower if needed, and you will make it your life’s work to bring respect back to the Bratva. Because if you fail, I will gladly cut your throat and give someone else the job.”