Prologue Anatoly
The text messages are more like coded riddles, but I think that I have it.
I run my fingers through my hair and lean back into the black leather chair, resting my arm on the armrest. I look at Pakhan, my Brat Lev, focusing on the information on the screen and pressing his lips tight.
I know that he wants to get all of the bastards that want to take what's ours, our territory, and our Bratva. But it seems like we take out a crew, and another one pops up. It's a fucking revolving door. The underworld dark web is constantly buzzing; some information is bogus, others a little too old, and some in damn riddles. I scrub my face and look at the monitor one more time. I can't mess up.
"Pakhan, I'm going to check out the drug deal that the Irish Mob and Polish Mob are going to do on our territory tonight. The Irish Mob rented an old warehouse at the edge of our turf. It doesn't appear that it's more than a mob transaction, not as if they're selling the stuff on our turf and trying to take over. The intel, the texts that I decoded, appear to indicate it's a transaction that they're making," I say, looking at Pakhan.
"Da, check it out, but be careful," Pakhan utters, raising his brow.
"I’ll go with you,” Czar says, pointing his finger.
“Nyet, you two have to go home. Remember that your wifey is waiting for you for dinner,” I smirk, resting my hands on my waist.
I stare at my Brats; they’re fucking pussy whipped. They run home for dinner, and I’m the only suka working late. I take all of the extra work so they can enjoy their new family. Pakhan has twins, and Czar has a boy. Da, I’m happy for my Brats because I know that they love their family.
“Da, call if you need help,” Czar hums, raising his brow.
“Da, don’t do anything on your own,” Pakhan says, gathering his brows.
“Nyet! I got this. Da, no worries,” I say, nodding.
It’s time.
I don’t see a damn thing.
The dark street is quiet; the only sound is the pounding of the rain hitting the windshield. The sound is getting on my fucking nerves. I stare out the window, grinding my molars. I fucking want a smoke, but I can’t. It would give me away if the fuckers are here, and I can’t risk it.
I grab the night vision binoculars to check if anything is happening at the fucking old warehouse. The warehouse looksabandoned, with no fucking activity. I grind my molars; my mind is racing, thinking and reviewing the information that I gathered from the dark web. This is fucked up; I’m the fucking master in all IT, in hacking and collecting data for my Pakhan.
My mind is a riot of thoughts, trying to figure out where I failed to connect the fucking dots. I was confident that I decoded the messages between the Irish Mob and the Polish Mob. They were meeting for the sale of Ecstasy. That’s what I thought I figured it out.
I rub my neck and close my eyes, trying to clear my mind.
So, are sukas now in a partnership, as in an alliance?
It’s a fucking mess; I fucked up because the svoloch’ were sworn enemies; everyone knows that. How the fuck did I think that they were doing business among themselves.
Da, because of the stupid texts.
That’s where I went wrong.
I need to look into it.
Fucking hell!
Nyet!
Pakhan is going to blow a gasket.
Fuck!
Nyet, it could be a trap.
Da, it’s starting to seem like it.
I fucked up, and now I have to fix it. So, my counsel was fucking wrong; what the fuck. I told Pakhan that they’re not on our territory to take over but to meet, to do their fucking business because it’s halfway for them. The Irish Mob and Polish Mob were not meeting to conduct their sale of Ecstasy here on our turf.
