Page 93 of Born into Blood

He’s already texting his younger brother before we’ve even made it to the parking garage, and by the time I’m driving us out of the city, he’s reading me everything his brother sends him about the men who have the woman I love. It’s enough to make me wish I hadn’t asked. The Turgenev Bratva is the kind of Bratva I despise—an old, rich asshole at the top, who employs nothing but the worst kind of men. They don’t join with him because they want money and power. His Bratva attracts the vilest of men, and they join because they want to abuse and hurt women. Vladimir not only allows it, but he’s created an empire that thrives and depends on it. I may be a criminal, but he’s a fucking asshole.

When we get far enough out of the city, we turn off the interstate and onto a two-lane highway, and when the directions eventually lead us to a long, gravel road, I pull off onto the grass and text the others. Our dads are just minutes behind us, and Timofey’s leading a group that’s going to come in from the back and sides of the cabin. Despite my dad’s worries, I’m not about to charge in there with my cousins and risk fucking this up. I would never do anything to put Lara’s life more at risk than it already is.

We check our guns, making sure to slip a few extra magazines into our pockets in case things really go to shit and we need more bullets, and then I strap another knife to my ankle just because I feel better with two blades instead of one. When I hear a vehicle approaching, we’re more than ready to go.

I shouldn’t be surprised when three black SUVs pull up and the last one is filled with Dominic and his men. He may run his own mafia, but we’re family now, and none of us take that lightly. We’d all be there in a second if he needed help. I nod to him and his two cousins while his other men stay a few feet away, talking with the men my dad and uncles have brought.

“What’s the plan,” Dominic asks, checking his own gun while Dario checks his knives and Alessandro looks between us, waiting for orders.

“Vladimir is expecting us. We’re going inside while your guys meet up with our other men and surround the cabin. No one fucking leaves this place without our permission,” my dad says.

My Uncle Vitaly looks at Dominic. “Try not to make it obvious that you’re Italian. Try to blend.”

Dominic raises a brow at him. “Do you want me to walk in carrying a bottle of vodka?”

My uncle sighs and looks to Lev. “Your son is being difficult again.” My uncle Lev lets out an annoyed grunt while Dominic mutters something in Italian. “See?” my Uncle Vitaly says, “don’t do that when we get inside. I’m not even going to mention the Armani suit because we don’t have time to fix that shit.”

“I’m calling Vladimir,” my dad says, looking around to make sure we all know to keep quiet. Vladimir must’ve been waiting, because a second later my dad says, “We’re here. Tell your men to behave when they see us.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response. “Ready?” he asks me.

“More than,” I tell him. He falls in step next to me as we make our way down the gravel road. “No matter what you see in there, don’t let him see how much it bothers you,” he warns me. “She’s not safe until we have her on our side of the room.”

“I know,” I tell him. “But I should probably warn you that I’ll be killing anyone who’s laid their hands on her.”

There’s enough light from the moon for me to see the slight smirk he gives me. “You wouldn’t be a Melnikov if you didn’t.”

Relieved that I won’t have to fight him about that, I put my focus on the cabin that appears when we come around the small bend. Security lights have the place lit up, making it hard to see how many men are around the building. When we’re less than twenty feet away, a man yells in Russian, “Don’t come any closer!”

“Vladimir’s expecting us,” my dad says, keeping a bored tone to his voice, even though I’m pretty sure we each have several guns pointed at our chests.

“Step forward and keep your hands where we can see them,” the man yells.

We do as he says, and when we’re almost to the door, several armed men step out of the shadows to surround us. One of the men makes the mistake of stepping closer and trying to frisk my Uncle Lev.

“Try to touch my dick again, and I’m going to fucking shoot your hand off,” my Uncle Lev tells him.

“Yeah,” my Uncle Vitaly says, joining in. “Get out of his fucking no-no square. That’s just rude, man. We didn’t walk up here and immediately try to grab your dicks.” He laughs and adds, “That’s assuming we could find them.”

The man’s mouth tightens in a thin line, and he’s just about to step closer when the front door opens and Vladimir steps out. I recognize him from the photo Max showed me during the drive, although he looks even older in person and heavier. The rings on his fingers glint in the light when he waves a hand at his men. “Let them by,” he orders.

My uncles give a soft laugh when the man is forced to swallow his pride and step aside. We walk past and follow Vladimir into the log cabin. It’s not a rustic cabin meant for roughing it. It’s for those who want a remote location but aren’t willing to compromise on luxury. It’s a rich man’s roughing it.

Vladimir turns to look at us while a man comes to stand beside him. His long hair is pulled back, and his eyes run over us, taking in every detail and making it obvious that he’s Vladimir’s personal guard.

“You broke the rules, Vladimir,” my dad says, not wasting any time.

Vladimir’s dark eyes land on my dad. “You’re Roman, I take it?”

“I am,” he says. “You have someone who belongs to us.”

Vladimir eyes the room, stopping briefly on Dominic and his cousins. “Who are you?”

He’s still speaking Russian so Dominic just holds his stare, not saying a word.

“He’s with us,” my Uncle Lev says in English, and my Uncle Vitaly gives a small smirk at seeing his brother stand up for his son-in-law.

Switching to English, Vladimir says, “This is between my Bratva and yours. I didn’t invite anyone else to the party.”

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