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20
KIRILL
There’s a hitch in my plan to take over the world.
It’s not small or negligible, and it certainly can’t be ignored. The problem, however, is the solution I have to use to bypass this hurdle.
It’s been six months since the attack on me right before the drug shipment, and Juan has never fully trusted me again. In fact, he asked for another contact within the Bratva, and the Pakhan assigned Igor.
The in I got with the cartels that was supposed to be my ticket to the top has to be shared with Igor because he’s Sergei's oldest and wisest companion.
Igor’s history with the Bratva is curious at best. Yes, he’s old, but he’s served under two different Pakhans who liked and appreciated him equally.
He's also the one they like spending their personal time with, which I’m sure he’s used to give himself and his brigade more power.
It’s no secret that he’s one of the main reasons Sergei became the Pakhan after his brother’s death. He could’ve put himself in that position if he’d chosen to—my old man and the others would’ve voted for him—but Igor is playing the long game.
He had the organization’s best interests in mind when he nominated another Sokolov for the position, and as a result, he secured another powerful tool—Sergei.
The Pakhan is growing old, and he’s not as sharp as he was in his younger years. So guess who he consults with before making any decisions? Igor.
It's a soft power that keeps growing with every passing day.
I’m almost sure he truly doesn’t want to be Pakhan, though, because after Nikolai’s death, he announced that he has no interest in the position and prefers to offer support instead.
Now that same Igor is strongly in my business. In fact, he’s been in my business since I got back to New York.
The reason for that became clear after the meeting he arranged for both of us at his house two days ago. No guards were allowed inside. Just me and him, and, later, the Pakhan himself joined.
The three of us sat there for hours. They laid out their conditions, and I put mine forward.
It wasn’t just words—we had to sign a contract in blood so that if one of us backed out, he’d be outed in front of the entire organization as a coward who doesn’t keep their word.
It’d be career suicide, basically. Sergei and Igor might be old, but they’ve spent decades in the Bratva, and they consider its values sacred.
Me? I want to be at the top. No matter what it fucking takes.
Even if it means selling my soul to the devil. If I’m at the top, I can bring that devil to his knees in front of me. I will be able to do whatever the fuck I please, and no one would dare hurt those close to me.
I sit behind my desk in the club, building the dozenth house of cards in the past hour.
Viktor is opposite me on the sofa with a laptop on his lap, probably watching some security footage. He likes to show small clips to the guards and remind them how sloppy they are.
It’s no secret that they prefer Sasha over him. She’s compassionate, more attuned to their needs than they are, and often goes out of her way to do their job if they’re feeling under the weather.
The air in the house has become lighter since the birthday party a couple of months ago. And it’s all because Sasha puts in the effort and gently pushes everyone else to do the same.
She even took Karina out to the nearby park for a whole fifteen minutes. She brought her back after she had a numbing panic attack; however, my sister was smiling soon after and talked to me about the air and the bees and even the children she saw there.
I still don’t like that Sasha is close to Konstantin. He’s an asshole who might use her against me, but the stubborn little shit doesn’t seem to think that’s the case and says nonsense like:
“I think he’s deeply misunderstood.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe he’s being corrupted by Yulia? Or that, when you left, you didn’t only abandon Karina but also Konstantin?”
“Can you consider giving him another chance? Or at least listen to what he has to say?”
“At this point, threatening and antagonizing him every time you see him is doing more damage than good. Can you try not jumping down his throat the moment you see him?”
I said yes to the last one if she’d think of him as invisible and never talk to him again. To which she glared and said, “No.”
I’m often tempted to grab her by the throat and drag her into the nearest dark corner whenever she does that. Her defiant side can be such a fucking turn-on.
