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"We need to act fast," I say, my voice low and urgent. "If Oskar's been working against us, there's no telling what else he's set in motion. I need to get to Mariya now."
“What do you mean you need to get to Mariya? Isn’t my daughter safe with you?” Vadem asks, looking at me with panic in his eyes.
“She is safe, far away from here,” I tell him. Determination settles over me, a singular focus that pushes aside the feelings of betrayal and anger.
"Let's move," I say, leading the way out of the room. Our mission is clear, but the path is fraught with danger. We're up against a foe who's been hiding in plain sight, and time is not on our side.
As we stride down the hallway of Vadem's mansion, my brothers and I are a silent storm, each lost in our own thoughts of the looming crisis. A sudden call comes through that shatters the tense quiet.
"The train," Sandra’s voice crackles over the comms, a hint of dread seeping through. "There’s been an attack. Mariya’s been taken by the Turks."
The words hit like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me. The world seems to shrink, skewing into a nightmare. Mariya, in the hands of our enemies. My mind races with worst-case scenarios, each leading to a horrific ending.
"Let's move," I bark, the words coming out more as a growl. "We're going to find her, and when we do, there will be hell to pay."
Chapter 25
Damien
“I’m going,” I say, my voice steely, a hard edge cutting through the silence. “I’ll bring Mariya back.”
I stare at my brothers, searching their faces for some hint of solidarity, some sign that one of them might stand with me in this critical hour.
"Is anyone coming with me?" The question leaves my lips before I can weigh its impact.
The silence that follows is deafening, each brother's face a mask of resolve or regret. Leo's eyes meet mine, a flicker of apology in their depths, but his lips remain sealed. Roman shifts uncomfortably, his gaze averted. Samuil, always the brute force, clenches his jaw, his expression speaking volumes of the turmoil within.
"You know we can't, Damien," Roman finally breaks the silence, his voice laced with a reluctant finality. "Moscow is a tinderbox right now. We need all hands on deck."
Samuil nods in agreement, his voice gruff. "The Bratva's foundation has been shaken, brother. We need to fortify our ground here."
Leo's words are softer but no less decisive. "Our hands are tied, Damien. This mess is bigger than any of us anticipated."
I feel a cold knot of isolation forming in my stomach. The understanding that I am truly alone hits me like a ton of bricks.
Andrei nods, his expression grim. “We have to clean up the mess here, Damien. Oskar and Vadem... they've left us exposed. We can't leave Moscow now. Not like this.”
I hear the logic in his words, but they do little to quell the rising tide of resentment within me. Always the outsider. Always the one to be doubted, to be tested. It's a familiar tune, one that has underscored my life within the Bratva—a cadence of half-acceptance, of conditional trust.
I let Andrei's words settle, but they barely scratch the surface of the turmoil brewing within me. My voice edged with a bitterness I rarely let show, breaks the heavy silence. "I hear you, Andrei. But tell me, when will it be enough? When will I stop being the outsider in your eyes?"
I pause, my gaze taking in my brothers’ faces, each of them a mirror to my own mixed heritage within this family, a heritage that has always left me straddling a line between acceptance and suspicion.
"I've always been the one on some endless trial to prove myself," I continue, the words spilling out, a lifetime of frustration fueling them. "Do you even realize how that feels? To know that trust is conditional and acceptance is uncertain?"
I can feel the weight of their stares, heavy with unspoken truths and acknowledgments. It's a familiar situation, one we've circled around for years, but tonight, something in me snaps. I'm tired of the charade, the unending test of loyalty.
"I'm as much a member of the family as any of you," I assert, my voice rising, a raw edge of defiance coloring each word. "I have been there to help save each of your wives when they were in danger. No questions asked. Yet here I am, once again, being sent off alone while you all stay here together. What do I have to do to prove that I belong? What will it take for you to see me as more than just the bastard son?"
I'm not seeking confrontation. I'm seeking recognition, an acknowledgment of the battles I've fought and the loyalty I've shown. It's not just about being part of the Bratva; it's about being seen, acknowledged, and accepted for who I am in my family.
Andrei's chuckle, a sound so misplaced in the tension-filled room, only fuels my anger. My growl is instinctual, a primal response to what I perceive as mockery. "What's so fucking funny, Andrei?" I snap, barely containing the venom in my voice.
He raises his hand in a gesture of peace, and his eyes soften with a memory. "It's not what you think, Damien. I was just reminded of a story from our younger days."
I cross my arms, skeptical but silent, giving him the floor.
"Do you remember that winter when that massive snowstorm hit the city? It must have been about ten years ago now."
