Page 46 of Bratva Bastard

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After my shiftat the bar, I counted down the drawer and headed to my car, exhausted and needing a nap. Walking around the building, I took the long way so I could stop by the pool, but I was too tired to swim, so I simply gazed at the beautiful reflection of lights on the water’s surface before walking around the building to the parking lot.

As if I could sense danger, the hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. Grabbing my keys, I quickly unlocked my car. But before I could climb in, a figure emerged from the shadows and grabbed me from behind.

My heart raced as I struggled to get away, but my assailant covered my mouth with a cloth and I was unconscious almost immediately, unable to fight or do anything. My vision blurred, my limbs limp and unresponsive. But my heart still pounded against my chest as the burning question ofwhoandwhyclouded my mind.

Grabbing my body, the man dragged me away, until I could see nothing but the stars in the sky blurring into an endless darkness.

20

Maxim

I’d tried to return to my daily business, but it didn’t hold the thrill it used to. I was half tempted to give up my business altogether and run away from the Bratva life and all the responsibilities that came with it.

Every day had become the same routine. Check in with the money laundering in St. Petersburg. Help Misha with the family business. Look for more information on my missing mother. Sprinkle in Ana’s annoying presence every now and again, and you had my life.

When had it become such a miserable, monotonous existence? I used to love this lifestyle—fast and free, doing what I wanted, when I wanted—but now it was nothing more than a headache. I couldn’t have what I wanted, so what was the point?

I laid down on my bed, needing a minute to myself. A minute to think. A minute away from all the bullshit.

But I couldn’t even get that, because my phone buzzed against my dresser, lit up.

Great.

Whoever was calling could just fuck off. Still, I forced myself up, and grabbed my phone.

An unknown number.

Literally, the phone said, “Unknown,” not even letting me know whichcountrythe call could be coming from. Skeptical, I debated answering, but curiosity got the better of me and I pressed the greenanswerbutton.

“Hello?”

A deep, muffled voice answered—someone was speaking through a device that masked their voice. Whoever answered wanted to remain anonymous.

“I know you’re looking for Isabel Chernoff. Or, should I say, Isabel Koslov?”

I gripped the phone in my hand so tight, my knuckles turned white.Who the fuck was this?

“Who are you?” I asked, knowing damn well they wouldn’t tell me. Not if they were trying to hide their identity.

Ignoring my question, they said, “If you want to see your mother again, you must pay the price.”

“And what price is that?”

“I know how much you have in your money-laundering business, and I expect half. Try and cheat me out of it or give me less than half—I’ll cut her fucking head off and ship it to you in a pretty box. Call it a memento.”

“Who the fuck are you!” I barked out, demanding to know this coward’s identity.

But a distorted chuckle sounded from the other side. “Oh, Maxim. If only I could see the look on your face when you find out. I’ll give you a few days to think it over, although I think the answer is obvious. Money, or your mother. Which one do you love more?”

I didn’t have to think about it—obviously I loved my mother more than any amount of money I could ever have. When we were struggling to get by—eating meals thrown out by the neighbors, stealing clothes from the donation bin, sleeping in a home with no lights or electricity—it was my mother who was there, keeping me warm and safe. No amount of money could replace that.

“Fuck you,” I growled, trying to keep a level head, but this asshole was pissing me off. “At least I don’t need to hide my identity, you fucking coward. Come out and face me like a real man.”

“In time, mal’chik. Remember what I said. I’ll speak with you soon.”

They hung up. The son of a bitch hung up, and I had no idea who they were. I had to tell Misha and Dimitry. Maybe they could trace the number, figure out who it was and where they were calling from.

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