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“That’s right,” I quickly shoot back. “I have my crew in America and we run our own business.”
“And this was simply to spare the lives of you and your men…” Vadim says as he turns back to check in on Dima’s initiation.
The men get back to it. Dima is holding up fairly well considering he’s being knocked around by a group of vicious murderers. The man with the tattooed scalp, who I’ve learned is named Bodhan, is working on him now. He lands a hard blow to Dima’s temple, laughing as the boy wobbles around, disoriented. Before Dima can recover, the man continues beating on him, delivering a series of punches I’d usually reserve for someone who’s wronged me. Bodhan keeps thrashing Dima, finishing with an uppercut to his jaw that causes Dima’s head to snap backwards from the impact.
The rest of the men pull Bodhan off Dima, otherwise he’d continue.
“Bodhan!” Vadim shouts as he rushes to the group. “Enough!”
The men wrestle Bodhan away, hurling him away from Dima’s collapsed and bruised form.
Bodhan gets up, looks over his bruised knuckles and laughs as if he did nothing. “I wanted the finale to be memorable.” He shrugs his shoulders in pure asshole form and marches outside.
Vadim goes to Dima, lowering to his curled body. Dima is breathing and mumbling words, but they’re incoherent. His eyes are swollen shut from the blows he’s taken and there’s numerous bright red cuts on his body seeping blood, flowing down the ridges of his face.
“Get him checked out by the Doctor,” Vadim orders. Two men hoist Dima’s flaccid body up and drag him out the door.
When the mood in the room quiets, Vadim returns his attention to me, eyeing the tattoo on my chest. “We’ll have you meet the elders so they can confirm to your identity and you can go back to your home,” he says in a dry tone and walks away.
Chapter3
TATYANA
Ifinish clearing empty plates from the round dining table of the cafe, being careful not to stick my thumb into leftover food pushed to the side of the plates. Bites of cold cuts, pastries, and portions of the main course are left over with cigarette butts smashed into them. My hand passes by the open bottle of vodka on the table, but I know the men sitting at the table definitely would not want that cleared. With my arms full, I walk away and head towards the back kitchen.
Arkady is definitely going to ask me if the man they sent me to spy on is the real Viktor Mikhailov, and I do not know how to respond when they do.
A bolt of shock hits me when I think about something that’s new to me. I’m no longer a virgin. Viktor Mikhailov took my virginity from me in a stairwell of a Bratva headquarters.
That’s not the way I imagined it happening, but at the moment it could have happened anywhere and I wouldn’t notice. Nothing else mattered the moment Viktor was inside me. Nothing other than Viktor and myself joined together.
I lean against the steel counter by the back dishwasher, remembering how amazing it felt to have him fuck me. I never imagined it could feel that good, but everything inside me felt good from the second I saw him. He brought a desire out of me I never knew existed, and now he has the title of the man who took, as my friend in America calls it, my V card.
I doubt Viktor even cares.
“Tatyana,” my father shouts from the front of our cafe, instantly killing my mood.
I rush to scrape food off the plates and load them into the washer. I hate this job, just as much as I hate all the missions Arkady sends me on.
Well, not all of them. He ordered me to pose as an international college student at a university in Chicago to track a rival mafia family there. I’d never been to America before, but spent months polishing up my English to make sure I can fit right in. Arkady handled the rest. They arranged the papers that allowed me to travel and stay in the United States. Before I knew it I was on a plane, leaving this miserable village behind me.
It was the happiest moment of my life.
My father envied me for being sent to the United States. He tried to stop the mission, but he has no power, even when it comes to his own daughter. True to his extreme pettiness, he made sure they sent me back home during all of my breaks. Arkady said that wasn’t necessary. I could have my own apartment so I wouldn’t need to fly back and forth, but my father insisted I be brought home when on school recess and not working for the Bratva. He resented what little freedom I experienced.
“Tatyana!” my father yells louder. I rush to the front of our diner to see what he wants from me, but all he does is nudge his head towards the table where the Bratva sit.
My face pales in fear. I don’t want to be forced to give them information that could get Viktor hurt. Viktor might have already forgotten about me, but I don’t want to contribute to anything that could harm him.
I shuffle my feet, scrambling to come up with lies to the questions I’m assuming they’ll ask. By the time I reach the table, I’m almost hyperventilating.
“Y… yes?” I ask with my chin trembling.
Arkady doesn’t look up at me. “Get us tea. We’re not done here yet.”
I’m relieved, but it only buys me a few moments. Eventually Arkady will want a report on what I saw.
I gather mugs, spoons and pour the tea into a thermal pitcher so it’ll stay warm. I walk back towards Arkady and his men with heavy feet. This would be the perfect time for him to ask what I’d seen at the Mikhailov headquarters. If I lie to him and say it wasn’t the real Viktor Mikhailov, word would get around and Arkady would likely kill me and my father for lying.
