Page 80 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Viktor

The war has started, and Fedor is nowhere to be seen.

I’ve declared war in Fedor’s name only because I have to display a united front. I can’t let on that my brother is out of control, that I’m not powerful enough to keep my men in line. Besides, the Mazzeo consiglieres disrespected Fedor by calling him crazy. They didn’t deserve to die for it, but I also can’t let that kind of behavior slide. Not when my own men are doubting me more than ever.

Still, I initially expect Mario Mazzeo to come back with a counteroffer. His son has always been the more hotheaded of the two, and I expect Mario to balance Rio out. He has to know they don’t have the manpower to overcome my Bratva. He has to know they will lose this war.

Maybe he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that Rio Mazzeo has now attacked our office with every man he has, and we are now in a gunfight for our lives.

I call Fedor the moment the shooting starts. With his help, we can sandwich the Mazzeos between us and end this war before it can really even begin. Most of the men are inside the office with me, still reeling and strategizing for the possibility of the oncoming war, but Fedor could command the others on the outside and attack from both sides. But he doesn’t answer my calls or my texts.

Petr holds the back entrance of the office with a few of the enforcers while a second team keeps the front doors clear. We are surrounded, but as long as they don’t make it inside, I know we have the upper hand.

If worst comes to worst, we can barricade the basement, but that would feel an awful lot like defeat and it is my last option.

I decide to move to the second floor to assess the situation from above, trying to see where the weak points in the Mazzeo line are, but as soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs, there is a huge commotion from the back of the office.

The entire building shakes and dust falls from the ceiling.

“Bomb!” someone shouts from behind me, coughing as he stumbles forward. “We’re breached.”

I turn and find Petr stumbling out of a haze of smoke. He falls to his knees and then pushes himself to all fours, crawling out of the smoke. There is blood on his shirt, and I don’t know if it’s his or someone else’s.

“Rio blew the back wall out,” Petr says, grabbing my shoulder. “You have to go.”

It’s Petr’s job to look out for me. To protect me. But I can’t run away from this fight. If I do, it will only prove what many of my men already think of me—that I don’t have their best interests at heart.

Maybe I don’t.

I should have kicked Fedor out of the Bratva the moment he began acting out. I convinced myself I could help him though. I lied to myself and to Petr and everyone else and said that he just needed time to adjust.

But Fedor doesn’t need time. He needs a fucking straitjacket.

He will always be my baby brother, but that doesn’t mean I can continue to protect him forever. At some point, he has to figure his shit out on his own, and I have to do what is best for my men.

He is out of control, and now I’ve lost men and an entire wall of my office because of him.

“No,” I say, grabbing Petr and moving him to the stairwell. “Stay here. I have to end this.”

Petr might argue, but I run into the thick of the smoke and don’t hear what he says. He also might have just collapsed back on the stairs and let me go. He knows better than anyone that my men will never forgive me if I sit back and let them die for Fedor.

The smoke is thick and dust is falling from the ceiling like rain. It feels like the apocalypse, but in the distance, I can hear a train whistle.

Beyond these walls, the world is still carrying on as though nothing has changed. It is a morbid kind of comfort as I pick my way through rubble and body parts, moving constantly towards the yellow glow of the streetlights.

The office is on the far edge of town in an industrial district that is always vacant this time of night. If anyone is close enough to hear the commotion, they’ll think it’s the sound of machinery or trucks being loaded. They won’t pay us any mind, so I can’t bank on the cops rushing in and scaring off Rio and his men.

I have to end this myself.

As soon as I get through enough of the smoke and dust to see a lone remaining window next to a gaping hole in the wall, I drop to my knees and crawl through glass and shards of metal to look through the window. I want to have a better idea of what I’m getting myself into before I charge out there and demand to talk to Rio.

There are fewer men than I would have thought. The Mazzeos have a smaller force than ours, but still formidable. It looks like they’re operating with less than half of their normal men. Perhaps Mario did try to persuade his son not to fight but failed to control him the way I failed to control Fedor. If that’s true, there’s a chance I can end this without any more lives being lost.

My men inside have scrambled away from the wreckage of the wall. They listened to Petr’s cries and retreated to take shelter somewhere else. So, with the absence of bullets raining down on them, I see Rio and a few of his men move from behind a car and start advancing on the building.

Rio lets his men move in front of him, clearing the way and checking that the coast is clear.

He’s a coward. And it will work to my advantage.

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