Page 1 of Mafia King

1

NIKOLAI

The night draws in suddenly. One minute the city is light, full of the daily hustle and bustle. Then the darkness comes. Deep into winter, this is just how it goes.

Nikolai Chekov wouldn’t have it any other way.

He is the Bratva king, and he rules the darkness with a fist of iron and a blade sharp enough to cut through any man who dares cross him.

Now forty, Nikolai’s past was built on removing his rivals one by one, each time more brutal than the last. Any man who refused to bend the knee to Nikolai would find himself living on borrowed time. Whether it was weeks, days, or sometimes even hours… those who crossed Nikolai would be taken down with the mind of ferocious relish that became the stuff of legend on these city streets.

In his youth, Nikolai feared nothing and lived each day like it was his last. Perhaps this was the only way he knew how. After all, coming from a family of street soldiers, hustlers, and dealers wasn’t the most stable. Far from it, in fact.

Nikolai’s younger years were spent living on the edge, each day simply another fight for survival. And as he learned from a very young age, it was very much a case of kill or be killed.

But this was just how it went for Nikolai.

By the time he was eighteen, his father was dead and his mother had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. With no siblings and only a few second cousins to speak of, Nikolai was never fooled into thinking that anyone cared about him or would take a bullet in his place.

Nikolai knew that if he wanted to avoid the fate that befell his father and so many of his friends, he would need to become a leader and put himself at the top of the totem pole.

And speaking of leaders…

“I’m interested,” Nikolai says, taking a moment to sip on his glass of vodka, no ice.

“Good,” Maxim Kovalev replies, his vodka finished and ready for a refill. “But my offer will not remain on the table forever. You understand this?”

Nikolai eyes up Maxim. There is no doubt in his mind that Maxim is a serious presence in the city, a formidable pakhan in his own right. Maxim is older than Nikolai, but not by much… a few years here or there. Nikolai knows that Maxim is ruthless and has had to battle just like him to become a pakhan. And that makes Maxim Kovalev a great potential ally…

But a potentially deadly rival too.

“Understood,” Nikolai replies. “Xander. More vodka.”

Nikolai watches his right-hand man Xander pour Maxim a new vodka and then pour him one too. Xander has been with Nikolai for a few years now. He’s part-IMilon, part-Bosnian, and part-who the hell knows. But one thing that Nikolai knows for sure is that Xander has more than proven his worth to him over the years.

“Pakhan, we have business arranged across town,” Xander says, his dark eyes telling Nikolai everything he needs to know. “I do not wish to rush you, or Mr. Kovalev. But this is business that requires attention.”

“Understood,” Nikolai replies. “Maxim, you will not take offence if we finish these drinks and reconvene later?”

“Of course not,” Maxim answers, his fresh shot of vodka disappearing almost as quickly as it was poured. “I know how the world works when it gets dark. Believe me.”

Nikolai downs his shot and the two pakhans hold one another’s gaze.

“Until next time,” Nikolai says.

“Until next time,” Maxim echoes, his voice cold but not unduly menacing.

With that, Maxim stands and exits the bar, his two generals following closely behind him.

“Business?” Nikolai asks. “Really?”

“I knew it was time to wrap things up,” Xander says. “You did tell me to step in if it looked like Maxim was pressing for an answer.”

“I did indeed,” Nikolai replies, as a hint of a laugh follows. “Now pour us both a shot and sit with me for a moment. We have much to discuss.”

Nikolai and Xander begin to work through the pros and cons of Maxim’s offer…

“Pro. It would secure the entire west side as yours, no challenges,” Xander says.