Page 16 of Bratva Wolf

I know we’re not. I broke the family code too many times to count tonight. My feet propel me out of the room and around the rubble, stumbling to the elevator. I’m a failure.

A bratva SUV sits in a parking space. I get in and take the keys from the center console. The night’s events run through my brain like a slide show. My focus rests on the thought that I could have lost my brother and his child because I’m stupid. How did I not realize Jose would do this? I grab my phone and dial.

“Ola?”

“Arturo.”

“Thane? It’s late, no?”

“It is. Jose is dead. He tried to kill Cynric and his woman.”

The moments of silence make me question if the call has dropped.

“I was unaware. I apologize for my nephew.”

“He’s dead, so he doesn’t matter. I want to know who knew in your organization that he planned to kill my family.”

“I assure you. I wasn’t aware, and I’m sure my other lieutenants didn’t know either.” He clears his throat. “Is your brother well? And his woman?”

“Yes. We all know Cynric is too mean to kill.”

“His reputation as a beast precedes him. I… What do you need from me?”

“Not sure, yet. You’ll need to convince my Pakhan you didn’t plan this.”

He blows out a breath. “I will contact your father in the morning, and I’ll send Marco to New York.”

Fuck. “Marco won’t be happy we executed his brother.” Well, Cynric killed him, but I don’t dwell on the specifics.

“He’ll understand. Jose was living on borrowed time. Marco knows this. He’s offered to kill him before. I should have let him.”

I grit my teeth, holding back the need to explode on the man. “Maybe you should have.”

“He’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Fine.” I end the call and toss my phone on the passenger seat. Pulling into Biggie T’s, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

My father growls at me in Russian. “What the fuck was that about?”

“I don’t think she’s qualified to handle a medical emergency. He could have died.”

“Did you become the Pakhan?”

“No, Papa.”

“No. You aren’t the fucking Pakhan of the Bravikov Bratva. You’re the second son. The first son’s right hand. Or at least that’s who you were raised to be. Instead, you’re a fucking arrogant whiner who thinks he’s the boss. You’re banished. Tell Boris he’s in charge of the club and find yourself somewhere else to be. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear about you. You’re dead to me. Isabella carries the next generation. Cynric chose her, and you disrespected him and me with how you acted. You’re untrustworthy.” He ends the call, and I stare at my phone.

I grip the steering wheel with full force and scream. “Fuck!”

I stomp into the club, turning my head from side-to-side, checking for Aguilar’s men. I flick my head at the bouncer, one of our Bratva enforcers.

“I heard there was a problem.”

“Don’t bother me.”

He nods slowly. “Yes, boss.”

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