Page 7 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

And just like that, Alessia and I spent the next hour catching up on old times. She offered some really nice ideas for my wedding, and they all made sense. I was glad to have run into her this evening, especially because our little time together was full of joy, happiness, and bliss.

Chapter 3 – Daniel

The air was thick with the scent of whiskey, vodka, and cigarettes as threads of smoke swirled around the Tarasov men seated at the long mahogany table. The subject matter still remained the same: Liam Callahan.

This meeting involved my inner circle—my most trusted associates and Bratva allies. These men were all pissed off at Sean O’Sullivan’s nonchalant attitude toward the wrong done to one of our own by one of his.

Husky voices filled the opulent space as suggestions, ideas, and malicious plans were plotted against our enemies. Sean O’Sullivan had made a big mistake messing with the Bratva; he should have punished Liam for what he did to Alina. Instead, he chose to join the asshole in holy matrimony with his daughter.

Two families would become one, joined by blood, and their alliance would yield profits for both businesses. How insightful! Sean O’Sullivan was a bigger fool than I thought if he believed he would actually pull this off without some sort of resistance.

The Irish Mafia and everyone associated with their organization were a bunch of blind motherfuckers, too short-sighted to see the trouble looming in front of them. Danger was knocking on their door, but they were all too distracted by the upcoming wedding to notice.

Excellent! Now we had the element of surprise, and not even a single one of those greedy assholes would see what hit them—not until it was too late.

“I still can’t believe those bastards have the nerve to throw a wedding after what that prick, Liam, did to Alina,” my cousin Nik said, his voice dripping with sheer hatred. His icy blue eyes narrowed, and the scowl on his rugged face deepened. “The audacity they have,” he hissed.

“It is clear that the Irish have no regard for us,” Anatoli said, his baritone voice laced with fury. “They seem to have forgotten who they’re dealing with. I say we remind them.” His eyes shifted across the serious faces in the room. “Let’s hit them where it hurts the most.”

“I agree.” Nik leaned forward, elbows on the table, his dark hair simmering in the soft lights. “Our silence has lasted long enough, and that’s why these fuckers think we’re weak. Let’s hit their shipment, cripple them financially.”

Ilya’s deep voice cut in as he sat by my side. “That’s a good idea. But we need something more drastic than that if we’re gonna send a message that they can’t ignore.”

The room was silent for a moment, and all I did was listen, my gaze shifting across their faces.

“He has a point,” Dmitry, another of my men, concurred. “Let’s paint the streets red. Blood for blood,” he said, his one eye flying to meet my gaze.

Dmitry was called the one-eyed demon, considering the extent of his ruthlessness. He was rumored to have no heart or conscience, and that made him a nightmare to many. He’d lost an eye the same day Ilya got that scar across his face while defending the Bratva against an ambush.

These men surrounding me would do anything for the sake of our organization. All I would have to do was say the word, and they would rain down hellfire on the city of Chicago.

“I say we kill every last one of those bastards and burn their empire to the ground,” Dmitry added.

Dmitry was a madman—there was no doubt about that. He was the most unreasonable of us all, always making rash decisions and bringing up the most inhumane ideas in our meetings. But as heartless as he was, he was still one of the very few I trusted.

“Liam Callahan shouldn’t see the light of tomorrow. What other message could be louder than that?” Dmitry concluded, reclining in his chair.

“You psychopath, you do have a valid point,” Anatoli teased.

“What do you think, Daniel?” Nik asked me.

I shifted my gaze to him, and the room fell silent as everyone waited for my response. My lips curled into a self-satisfied grin, and I could see the puzzled looks perched on their faces. They had good intentions and wonderful ideas on how to make our enemies suffer, but they seemed to be missing out on the bigger picture here.

“You want to tear the enemy limb from limb,” I began, my voice low and calculated. “You wanna rip him apart and revel in his screams. Good. But I have a better idea.” I paused for the effect, allowing my words to sink in, creating and building their anticipation. “I’ll rip his heart right out of his chest.”

Anatoli leaned closer and said to Dmitry, “He’s not being literal.” His brows knitted together in confusion, and he faced me again. “Wait, are you?”

“Leave this to me,” I said, fingers drumming on the hard table surface. “I’ll handle it myself.” My lips grin became mischievous.

These men wanted us to make our enemies pay with their blood. But I had an even better idea to make them pay with something much more precious than blood or money. I had it all figured out, and my plan was already in motion; I just needed to be patient. Luckily for me, patience was a quality I had in abundance, and the thought of my success gladdened my stone-cold heart.

Nothing was ever going to prepare the O’Sullivans for what was about to hit them. Nothing at all. This wedding was the perfect opportunity for me to act, and those idiots were so focused on planning it that they lost sight of everything else.

If they had been smart enough, they would have known that the Tarasovs were cooking up something dangerous, considering our unusual silence. But clearly, they weren’t. Shame. Now, they’d have to witness a different form of my revenge, an aspect of my fury that they’d never seen before, and I couldn’t wait to see that shock on their faces.

My plan would ruin their lives; it would leave them in shambles, and Sean O’Sullivan himself would beg on his knees. But if it was war he wanted to declare on us, then we’d give him war. We’d paint the streets red with his blood as Dmitry suggested.

Either way, I won.

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