Page 81 of Scarred Bratva King

MAXIM

The grand hall hums with anticipation, the air heavy with the weight of generations. Bratva men fill the space, their sharp suits and sharper eyes reflecting the power they wield.

Every gaze is on me. I stand at the head of the room, flanked by Dmitri and Ivan, their presence a silent reminder of the loyalty that has carried me to this moment.

The Bratva has gathered here to see the official handover of power, to witness the formal crowning of their new Pakhan. Me.

Dmitri leans in, his smirk equal parts pride and mischief. “About time you wore the crown. Took you long enough to come here. Where have you been all week?”

I don’t tell him about watching Veronica. That time has passed. It’s time to focus on business.

My father steps forward. He surveys the crowd, his gaze landing on me. For once, there’s no disapproval in his eyes, only a solemn acknowledgment.

He leans over to my ear. “I haven’t seen Veronica for a while. All okay?” I hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Too late to take it back,” I reply. “You’ve already retired.”

“Take what back?”

“It was a marriage of convenience,” I hiss. “Now she’s no longer needed.”

His eyes flash darkly. “So you tricked me? Where is she?”

“I told you. She’s gone.”

“Is she?” He sounds amused. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

Before I can answer, he turns away. “Your new leader,” he says to the room, his voice filled with suppressed anger. “Maxim now rules you all. Respect him. He will bring an end to this pointless war.”

A ripple of approval moves through the room, murmurs of agreement building into a steady hum.

I step forward, my gaze sweeping the room. Every face is turned toward me, waiting. These men are killers, thieves, strategists. And from now on, they are mine to command.

I clear my throat, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Today marks a turning point. We’ve endured threats, betrayal, and bloodshed. But we are still here. Stronger. United. The war rages on and you have all fought hard. The Italian scum will be crushed.”

I pause, letting my words sink in, the weight of them pressing against the tension in the room.

“Vito Lombardi arrived back in New York this morning. He came after what is mine. My first act as Pakhan will be to end his threat, to show anyone who dares challenge us what it means to face the united Bratva. Twenty minutes, we meet and I will show you how we end this.”

The room erupts into applause, fists pounding against tables, voices roaring their agreement. The sound is deafening, a wall of noise that crashes over me, but I remain still, my expression cold.

Inside, though, my chest tightens. This should feel like victory, but it doesn’t. All I can think about is Veronica. Myfather doesn’t believe me that it’s over. Why is that? Could he know something I don’t?

The applause dies down, and Dmitri claps a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the throne, cousin. Try not to burn it down.”

I shake my head, but the faint smirk on my lips betrays my amusement. “I’m promising nothing.”

As the men file out to prepare for the meeting that will seal Vito Lombardi’s fate, I linger, staring at the spot where my father stood just minutes ago. The room is empty now, but the weight of what’s coming bears down on me.

The Bratva is mine. The crown, the power, the responsibility—it’s all mine. I beckon Ivan over. “Come to the office with me. Now.”

I sit at my desk, the heavy oak surface scattered with papers that bear my name. Contracts, documents, decrees—all symbols of the power I now wield. The Bratva is mine, but the weight of it feels like iron on my chest.

Ivan steps into my office, his presence a quiet hum of energy as he closes the door behind him. He doesn’t ask why I’ve called him here; he knows better than to question me until I speak.

I look up from the papers, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand. “I need you to set up a trust.”

His brow arches slightly, but he waits.

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