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Prologue Lev

Twenty

"I think that we lost the Svoloch. Let's ditch the car and run."

We get out of the Mercedes G-wagon, grab our backpacks, and run through the city.

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"Da, I don't see the mudaks," Ivan mutters, looking over his shoulder.

"Hurry," I whisper.

It's a dark night; the clouds in the sky roam over the moon, blocking the moonlight. The night resonates with the dark feelings that fuel my anger, giving me the drive to escape.

"This way!"

I run through the streets and turn down an alley. My cousin Ivan is right behind me; he's coming with me; he's like a brother. He's going to play a huge part in the Bratva once I take back what's mine.

Our life as we knew it is now over. Everyone we loved has been killed by the sukas that are staging a coup. What hurts the most is that I didn't see my Pakhan one last time. I was going to visit him; he wanted me to attend Harvard.

My blood boils thinking about his death and what they did to him. I'll never be able to bury him. He was in his prime, too young to leave me.

I keep running, breathing in the cold, the frigid air threatening to burst my lungs. The fucking weather in Russia is freezing, and I can't stop to take shelter. I need to escape Russia; it's a huge risk but necessary. My Dedushka drilled into me the importance of surviving and forging my destiny. Now that the unspeakable happened, he commanded that I escape, to run towards the White Sea.

Dedushka kissed me on each cheek and stared into my eyes. His blue eyes, with gray specks, were identical to mine.

"Lev, you are now Pakhan; take what's yours; it's your birthright. Follow our plans; go to New York with Ivan. Work with Brigadier Sergei Varkov and keep with the plan.

At the safe house, in the safe room, open the safe. There should be all the documents for properties, businesses, bank accounts, and money that you need. Everything is in your name.

Lev, one more thing. It's time that you know you have two half-brats; look for them and take care of them. You will find other bank accounts that belong to your brats. I'm positive that Pakan left a letter.

Lev, always remember that you're the lion, Pakhan Lev Kravtsov Bratva, the king.

My heart pounds hard, my chest constricts, and I don't know if I will make it. I glance at my cousin Ivan, running with me, running for our lives.

The greedy bastards, the Bratva, want me dead to steal what's rightfully mine.

My cousin Ivan is the only living relative because I know that, at this moment, Dedushka has been executed. The sukas killed the Pakhan, my Papa. Papa was killed last night in New York; that's where he lived. I live here in Russia with Dedushka; he was training me to rule the Bratva. I visit Papa in New York once a year, but we FaceTime every day.