Page 1 of Cruel Russian King
Chapter 1 - Artyom
“Do we have any more information on the ghost enemy that's been fucking with our factions?” Lev Safin, the Bratva leader of one of the Philadelphia factions and my brother-in-law by default, asked over the phone.
About two years ago, Katya, his wife, the bastard child from my father, was kidnapped. While being held hostage, she overheard a conversation about plans to take down both the Rykovs, my faction, and the Safins.
Since then, we've been under fire from this fucking ghost enemy.
At first, they sent mercenaries, hired guns who could belong to anyone: syndicates, cartels, mobs, all aiming to wipe us off the map.
But they fucked up.
Jaroslav, Lev's younger brother and his underboss, captured and interrogated two of the men held with the mercenaries after an attack. Both carried the Bratva star on their shoulders, but neither gave up anything useful.
It wasn’t unheard of for Bratva to turn on Bratva, the Rykovs and Safins had been enemies for decades. What didn’t make sense was why our factions were being targeted now.
Both sides had been digging through every channel, tracking movement, intercepting comms, but ever since Jaroslav disposed of that last Bratva fuck, it’s been dead silence.
“We've got nothing new on this end. It means whoever is fucking with us is very high up on the food chain. And has the means to hide in plain sight.”
I suspected they wanted us to know they were Bratva, or at least Bratva-affiliated, just to mess with our heads. Not only to create distrust among our alliances but for us to question every new Bratva alliance we attempted to create.
But I didn’t trust anyone to begin with.
I always had a contingency plan for every handshake, every deal, every fake smile. If they crossed me, I’d take blood.
Lev switched the topic from business to personal.
“Katya wanted to know if you'll be coming to dinner on Sunday.”
I rubbed my temples. Fuck, I hated those. No trace of annoyance was in my tone as I responded, “I'll be there. How is Alexi?”
Alexi, Katya and Lev’s one-year-old, had come down with the flu, and as the doting uncle I wanted them to believe I was, it only made sense to ask.
“He's a lot better. He actually slept through the night last night.”
“If you need me to come over and watch him while Katya gets some shut-eye, let me know. Having a sick toddler can't be an easy task.”
“Thanks, I'll let you know.”
I didn’t want to stay on the line longer than I had to, so I gave myself an easy out.
“Lev, I've gotta run, I have a meeting in fifteen.”
“See you on Sunday.”
“You too.”
The line went dead.
“Fucking Safin bastard,” I muttered.
I wanted nothing more than to burn their entire faction to the ground and watch every last piece of it wither to ashes.
Everything had gone to shit the moment Lev married Katya. He blamed Vera for backing out of the alliance which was his reasoning for marrying Katya, claiming Vera was the problem. And they eventually got her to believe that shit too!
But it was Lev who ruined everything.
That marriage was supposed to secure me access to their Eastern Europe smuggling route. Ten million dollars already invested, deals already inked, alliances lined up.
