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With a nod to send him off, Andrei turned to face the room and steepled his fingers, holding himself like a statue as the last few stragglers hurried to their seats. There was no more doubt in his mind—there were traitors among them who had already allied with the enemy. The air was charged with suspicion and mistrust. He cleared his throat.
“Let’s begin.” His voice droned over the ripple of voices in the vast space.
Skipping the usual courteous welcoming and perfunctory introductions, Andrei cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“You all know why we’re here. I’m utterly disappointed that any true Bratva would ally themselves with Sicilian Mafia groups outside of our territorial borders,” he said with open disgust dripping from each word. His piercing gaze swept over the room.
“Do you even grasp the implication of this unholy alliance? Or are you so blinded by promises of money and power that you fail to see the sinister motivations behind this master plan?”
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. The division among them was palpable as heated debates flared up all over. Andrei had known some groups had defected, but he was shocked by just how many seemed to have crossed that line.
“How would you know what we’ve agreed, Pakhan Andrei?” a voice called out from the dissenters.
“Come now,” Andrei said magnanimously. “Don’t be bashful. Show your face. Despite our differences, you are safe to speak your mind. Stand and share your perspective, since you clearly believe me ignorant of the Mafia Dons’ true motivations.”
The murmuring grew louder, underscored by fists pumping the air as others urged the turncoats to show themselves, but no one dared. Under Janos Smirnov, they had feared the Red Bratva, but in his brief reign, Andrei had awakened a deeper terror—the devil inside him. His quiet rage seethed like lava, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. Even the bravest traitors knew not to push him too far.
The room grew silent under Andrei’s blistering gaze. He had no more patience and refused to tolerate dissent. The time had come to remind them that the Bratva showed no mercy.
“Let me make this clear.” His gruff voice simmered with quiet menace. “If the Bratva fractures over this, we will all fall. United, we are mighty, but divided, we will be crushed beneath the Mafia’s heel.”
Murmurs swept the room anew, but Andrei raised a hand to silence them.
“Make no mistake… if you ally with them, you will not retain power even over your own groups and territories. You will take orders from thecapo di tutti capior die for your disobedience. The Mafia allows no freedom, no dissent under their regime.”
He paused, letting his words sink in.
“We have prospered because the Bratva respects strength through unity. The Mafia seeks only domination. You will not manage your own territories—you will grovel for their table scraps like dogs!” His fist hit the table with a bang.
“This is madness!” someone cried out. “Better to rule ourselves than become slaves.”
Others echoed his sentiment. “Da! The Bratva bows to no one!”
“You speak truth,tovarishchi,” Andrei said. “As comrades, we must stand together against this threat. Abandon these treacherous alliances for the promise of the illusion of power. Side with me and we will show the Mafia what true strength means!”
Cries of loyalty went up around the room. Andrei wasn’t fooled. There were still those who remained quiet. He might have turned the tide, but the war was far from over. Until Gareth Sanders breathed his last breath, the threat of a Mafia domination remained.
His gaze swept over the room. The warning was razor sharp in his voice.
“Beware those of you who side with a Mafia ally, I will personally defend the power of the Bratva… to the death, if need be, and whether it’s my life or yours, it matters not. No Sicilian bastard is going to rule over my territory.”
“Da! Andrei Smirnoff rules! There is no better example for all of us than a leader such as he. From the day he stepped into Pakhan Janos’ shoes, he hasn’t lied to us. He knows what is best for us and wants all of us to succeed. Bah! How can we trust an alien from another country over him?Nyet! We cannot. I realize that now.” The Pakhan of the Black Bratva rose and pumped a fist in the air.
Andrei breathed out in relief. Pavel Onokov was one of the big defectors. That he had switched loyalty back to side with the Red Bratva would help sway others as well.
“Y??for Pakhan Andrei!” he shouted.
“Y??! Pakhan Andrei!Y??!” The hall exploded with shouts as the majority of the attendees hailed him with fists in the air.
With his expression stoic, Andrei nodded, feeling satisfied that the atmosphere in the room had shifted from negative to positive. The only remaining action was to switch the mindset of the groups he had noticed didn’t participate during the meeting—the few who were still committed to championing their enemy. Either that or eliminate them from the race… permanently.
“What a surprise to see you here, Havel,” Andrei said as he walked into the room where the five Koval Bratva leaders were detained. “Especially since I don’t recall inviting you to attend.”
“Da, as surprised as I was not to receive one, I’m sure,” Havel retorted in his usual assertive manner. He didn’t seem fazed that they had been caught.
Andrei sat down on the opposite side of the table, watching the five men curiously. Only Oleg Gusev and two men guarding the door were otherwise present in the room.
“Of course,” Andrei droned colloquially, “that poses the question of how you obtained the coordinates to this location. More so, how did you even know to be here, in Russia, at this exact point in time?”
