Page 121 of Velvet Chains
I frown, confusion warring with dread. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The empire I built, the legacy I created. The one you and your shlyukha father stole from me.”
Ivan Vasiliev, the self-made man who clawed his way up the mafia hierarchy, harboring a deep resentment for mafia royalty like me. He sees me as someone who had everything handed to me on a silver platter while he had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of power.
“You’re insane,” I rasp, my throat tight. “The Bratva was never yours, Ivan. You were a soldier, a shestyorka. Nothing more.”
“I was the one who earned my place!” he roars, his composure shattering. “I should have been the one to lead, not you, with your inherited power and undeserved respect!”
Fuck! He is mad!
It was never just about business. It was personal, a grudge decades in the making.
“My father earned his place,” I say coldly, my voice shaking with rage. “He built the Bratva into what it is today. You? You’re nothing but a cheap thug with delusions of grandeur.”
“And yet, here we are,” Ivan hisses, venom dripping from every word. “With me holding the lives of your loved ones in my hands. Funny how that worked out, isn’t it?”
I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to corral my rampaging emotions.
Focus, mudak. Find his angle. Find his weak spot.
“What do you want, Ivan?” I ask for the third time, my voice low and even. “You’ve got my attention. You’ve made your point. So stop beating around the fucking bush and tell me what it’s going to take to get my family back.”
There’s a long pause, heavy with menace. I can practically hear the gears turning in his twisted mind.
“It’s simple, really,” he says at last, his tone light and conversational. “I want you to suffer, Victor. I want you to know the pain of having everything you love ripped away, piece by piece.”
My blood turns to ice, my breath catching in my throat.
Nyet. Pozhaluysta, nyet.
“I’ll give you back the girl,” Ivan continues, almost lazily. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill. A reminder of my mercy.”
I hear Eli cry out, hear Laura shouting her name. There’s a scuffle, a thud. And then silence.
“Eli?” I call, my heart in my throat. “Eli, solnyshko, can you hear me?”
“She can’t, I’m afraid.” Ivan’s voice is smug and satisfied. “She’s taking a little nap. But don’t worry, she’ll be back with you soon enough.”
I’m shaking now, rage and terror vibrating through every nerve. “And Laura?” I manage through gritted teeth. “What about my wife?”
“Ah, yes. Sweet Laura.” He draws out her name, savoring it like a fine wine. “Such a pretty little thing. And pregnant, too. Did you know that, Vitya? That she’s carrying your child?”
Blyad.
The bottom drops out of my stomach, a roaring in my ears.
He knows. Of course he fucking knows.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Ivan says, his voice hardening. “You’re going to get in your car and drive. Alone. I’ll send you the coordinates. And when you get there, you’re going to transfer every last bit of your holdings to me. The money, the properties, the businesses. All of it.”
I’m breathing hard, my vision tunneling. “And then?” I rasp, already knowing the answer.
“And then you’re going to put a bullet in your brain,” Ivan says softly, almost gently. “A tragic suicide brought on by the stress of your crumbling empire. So sad, the young Pakhan unable to handle the pressures of leadership.”
I close my eyes, bile rising in my throat.
This is insanity. He’s insane.
