Page 21 of Bratva Menace

“That’s true,” Illayana agreed.

“Hang on a second. So your men here are technically his men?” Although he was married to my sister, there were still some things Arturo was not privy to. Not necessarily because we didn’t trust him, but just because our business was our business.

“Yes and no,” Father answered. “Sergei originally sent me here to establish a Bratva base in the US. And yes, when we first moved, all the men were under his control, myself included. However, over the years, that control has shifted. His men became my men. And when we had losses, I oversaw the hiring of new soldiers who were strictly under my employ. Not Sergei’s. He’s only sent men to me on a few occasions—both when the losses were unprecedented.”

“So those soldiers who attacked us just now⁠—”

“Like Lukyan said, were the soldiers Sergei sent over after the raid Dominik orchestrated. Sergei’s men. Not ours. There are thousands of families in the Bratva, both in Russia and here. Although they are Bratva, they may not be active soldiers. But they can be called upon whenever we are in need. The Bratva is generational. If someone’s grandfather was a soldier, all his children and their children’s children are Bratva. I am particular about who I hire. I do not believe in forcing someone to risk their life for me if they don’t want to. I will present employment, and it is up to them if they wish to accept. Sergei, on the other hand, offers no such choice. You either work for him, or you die.”

Arturo’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. “That’s what separates you guys from him.”

Father nodded slightly. “There are many different ways to lead. By fear. By loyalty. Sergei chooses fear⁠—”

“And you choose loyalty,” Arturo finished.

“Well…not me anymore.” Father looked at Aleksandr, and pride shone in his eyes at the son who had taken his place as leader of the Bratva.

As the conversation droned on, I slowly began to lose interest. Everything they were speaking about was already information I had in my pretty little noggin. I didn’t need a refresher. I did that myself every night before I went to sleep.

My grandfather was a dangerous man, and despite what everyone thought, I knew that. My father had a file loaded with every detail he could get about him, and when it was decided that I would be the one to kill him, he had given it to me to study.

And I did.

I studied that motherfucker harder than a teenage boy trying to learn how to put on a condom for the first time. And I came up with a plan to take him down—a plan I had yet to tell anyone about.

I glanced at my phone. Dozens of notifications littered the screen. Some from various social media platforms. A few emails. Several text messages.

Katie: I miss you When can I see you again?

How about never? I didn’t do stage five clingers. Which was exactly what Katie was.

Evelyn: DTF?

No, thank you.

Christian: Do you think having red and itchy balls means I have an STD?

Probably, you idiot.

Veronica: Attachment: 1 Image

I knew what it was without even having to open it, and it didn’t interest me in the slightest.

Unknown: What’s wrong, my love? You look sad.

I stiffened. It’s her.

Excitement soared through me—so much so that it took all of my willpower to keep my body from shaking.

Conversation continued on around me, but I blocked it out as I focused on those seven little words that made me feel more alive than I’d ever felt before.

You look sad.

She was watching me. But from where?

Discreetly, I glanced around the kitchen. It had to be from a camera. All the blinds were closed, so she couldn’t be looking in from the outside. There was only my family, two maids, and a soldier posted by the back door that led to the outside patio in the kitchen, so she definitely wasn’t in the room.

The question was…where was the camera?