“I’ve come to warn you, Evgeny Kucherov, you and your Bratva. We are coming for you.”
“What makes you think you can take us down? You and your Bratva are smaller and weaker.”
“Unlike you, Evgeny, I am a truevor. I made myself who I am in prison in Russia. I earned the three cathedral steeples tattooed on my chest. I fought and killed my way through the ranks, always keeping to the code. You don’t know what it is to be a truevor.”
“Evgeny was born with the stars on his shoulders, unlike you,” Vasya spits. “He’s the one who’s expanded the Kucherov Bratva, while all you do is petty theft and trafficking. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Tsepov.”
“You came with your warning, and now I’m giving you one of my own. Do not take on the Kucherov Bratva, or you will be in for a world of hurt. I won’t stop with you, either. I’ll take the entire Sokolinaya Bratva down before I’m done.”
I expect fear, or at least false bravado, since this man and his Bratva have never taken on the likes of us before. Instead, a slow grin spreads across his face.
“That’s what you think, Evgeny. But I’d watch your back because you never know who’s coming for it.” Tsepov turns on his heel, snapping the order to leave before the surrounding men can make good on my threat.
“Do we just let them leave?” Dmitri murmurs. His hand is on the gun hidden beneath his leather jacket.
“Yes.”
I sit, and after a moment’s pause, so do Dmitri and Vasya. The big man doesn’t even mention that Vasya finished his meal.
I sound calm and collected, but inside my blood runs molten. Tsepov knew what he was doing coming here, and his message was pointed.
“Since when does Tsepov have the fucking balls to do something like this? To come in here and threaten you?”
“Let him do what he thinks he can. We will show him soon enough that he can’t.”
Ivan returns to the table with the restaurant owner’s help, and the dining room slowly returns to life as we finish our food.
I signal Dmitri to bring the car around when Ivan lays a gnarled hand on mine. His skin is dry and paper-thin, and his veins show through it.
“Your father would not have allowed Tsepov to leave like that,” Ivan tells me, his voice low. “You could have ended it.”
“There are too many people in the restaurant. Today is not the day for a bloodbath. It will be handled, Ivan,” I promise, downing the last of my espresso before I stand. “I will not let our Bratva fall, just as I promised. Just as my father promised.”
“You’ll keep that in mind, I hope.” The old man narrows his eyes up at me as though even my height offends him at this moment.
“Always, Ivan.”
Ivan huffs again, and Dmitri takes a last bite of pastry, dabbing at his mouth as he rises to follow me.
“The old man was in a fine mood this morning.” My second-in-command grins as we step into the bright light, eyes adjusting after the restaurant’s gloom. “He must be feeling better now that he’s out of the hospital.”
“I’m convinced he’ll outlive us all,” I reply, climbing into the black SUV as my driver holds the door open.
Dmitri follows me in. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
I wait until the car is moving before I talk again. “I want a full assault on Tsepov.”
Dmitri chokes as he swallows. “A full assault on Tsepov?” he asks between coughs.
“On his operations, on himself, whatever he’s into, I want to know. A turf war is one thing, but killing our men is another.”
“Is this where that woman comes in? The hacker?”
“I want everything on him, and I want a way to take him down. She will help me find it.”
Dmitri eyes me for another moment before returning his attention forward. “Okay, boss.”
“Tsepov started this, and I’m going to end it.”
