Morozov is a big name around here.
When I chose to come to New York, I was fully aware that they’re an essential part of the Bratva. I just didn’t know how essential.
Turns out, they’re pillars of the entire organization and hold a prestigious position of power at the top. The demonstration of said power manifests itself in the sheer number of people who are attending the funeral, including the Pakhan.
It’s been three days since Roman Morozov’s death, and during this time of ‘grief,’ Kirill has been going out to meet people and making phone calls.
His father hadn’t yet been buried and he was already rekindling old relationships and basically crowning himself as the new leader.
I’ve been standing in the shadows while Kirill and his family members accept condolences. All except for Karina.
I saw her dressed in a black dress earlier, and her mother attempted to force her to come downstairs, but the girl literally ran to her room and locked the door.
No one has seen her since, and I don’t think anyone here cares about her absence. Maybe they’re used to this behavior from her.
Back to the current moment. I stand on the periphery of the professionally decorated garden as part of security. If it weren’t for the black and white velvet tablecloths and the image of the deceased man, one would think this was a wedding reception.
The part that makes me stop and stare isn’t the number of people with a dangerous aura in one place. It’s also not the one-hundred-eighty-degree change in both Yulia’s and Konstantin’s behavior in public compared to their viciousness in private.
It’s how utterly composed Kirill is through the whole thing.
Every now and then, I can’t help ogling him. In my defense, I don’t mean to, and I usually stop when I notice I’ve been looking for too long, but it’s a compulsion I can’t put an end to.
Maybe I am taking my bodyguard role way too seriously, and I’m watching him this frequently to be able to protect him.
At least, that’s what I tell myself every time my eyes stray in his direction. On the other end of the garden, he stands with a few higher-ups from the Bratva, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a drink.
He’s in a dashing black suit, tie, and shoes, looking straight out of a fashion show. We’re all wearing black suits, but he’s the only one who makes it appear regal. The black-framed glasses add a sense of powerful intelligence to his sharp features.
On anyone else, those glasses would look nerdy, but on Kirill, there’s something entirely sinister about them. It’s his expression, I realize. There’s an overpowering control lurking beneath his calm façade. A dangerous edge that’s pushing him to accomplish more, no matter what price he has to pay.
He had already lost half of his men, and even that didn’t stop him.
Probably nothing ever will.
A finger taps my shoulder, and when I look to the side, Maksim pokes my cheek with his forefinger and then grins, appearing proud of himself.
“Aren’t you tired, Sasha? You should go rest for a bit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t be saying the that when you’re deathly exhausted by the end of the day. And it’s going to be a looong day.”
“Because of the funeral?”
“Because of what happens after the funeral.” He juts his chin in the direction of Yulia and Konstantin, who are also in their own small circle with the mafia leaders. “Those two won’t stop until they have power over the Morozov family, and guess who’s in their way.”
“Kirill?”
“Correct. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent those snipers to the last mission we went on, just to get rid of him. His recent return that’s coincided with the old boss’s death is the worst disaster that could’ve befallen them.”
“But wasn’t he named the heir in his father’s will?” The lawyer was ushered here the day of Roman Morozov’s death, and he read the will to the family.
Kirill is to inherit ninety percent of his father’s assets—that includes countless properties, cars, a plane, and a multi-billion-dollar stock fortune. Karina gets ten percent on the condition that she signs away her votes to Kirill and assigns him as her proxy. In fact, considering her ‘challenged’ state, Kirill is named as her guardian and that gives him the authority to not only have control over her money but also to throw her in any mental institute if he chooses to.
Konstantin and Yulia only got one thing—permission to live in the house with Kirill and only if, no surprise, they don’t challenge his authority.
Needless to say, his brother threw a fit and threatened to sue. However, Yulia, who didn’t look surprised in the least, just grabbed him, and they left together.
Maksim hums thoughtfully. “On paper, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“The will means nothing if he can’t prove himself in the real world. In other words, he has to snatch back the power Konstantin and Yulia have been building during all the years he was gone. Yes, Boss had his father’s support, but not everyone will blindly follow his will. It’s a psychological game that’s a lot harder than it looks.”
I inch closer to my friend. “Whose support does he need?”
“The main players’, of course. First of all, the Pakhan.” He points at an old man with whitening hair and a calm, wise demeanor. “Sergei Sokolov, head of the Bratva ever since his brother died. He’s kind of laid-back, but he’s strict and has old ways. Second of all, his similarly old-fashioned friends are the two next to him. Igor.” Maksim juts his chin in the direction of the strongly-built older man. He looks like a wrestler but has a white beard, hair, and a few wrinkles around his eyes. “That’s the first of the four kings. His household is self-sufficient and shrouded in mystery, but he’s been close to the current and previous Pakhans. In fact, he’s known them since they were young, so anything he says or recommends will have a major impact on Sergei’s decision-making process.”
My gaze strays to the third in the circle. He looks as old as the rest, but he’s leaner and has a somewhat sleazy businessman appearance and an erect posture that looks impenetrable.
“That, my friend, is Mikhail, the second of the four kings. He’s stuck in the eighties, has the worst temper of the three, and is prone to be a wild card, depending on his mood. I honestly think the only reason he’s still in power is because of his closeness to the Pakhan and some decent offspring who know how to handle business. He certainly doesn’t most of the time.”
“So, in short, if Kirill gets the approval of Igor and Mikhail, he’ll take his father’s place?”
“Not really. See the ones he’s standing with?” He diverts my attention back to Kirill, and a frisson goes through me just like every time I look at him.
As a matter of fact, Kirill has been with those two men more than any of the other guests. One looks as frightening as Viktor. Only, he has a beard, a massive muscular body, and tattoos swirling up his neck like snakes.
The other man more or less shares Kirill’s body type, though he’s not as classically handsome. He has high cheekbones and a mysterious look in his gray eyes.
“Yeah,” I tell Maksim. “I suppose they’re also important in the great scheme of things?”
“How did you figure that out?”
“Boss wouldn’t have given them so much of his time if that weren’t the case.”
“That is correct. Those two hold even more importance than the four kings.” Maksim grins. “The bearded one is Vladimir, who’s a few years older than Boss. He’s a stoic authoritarian, an absolute nightmare if you break any rules around him, and might as well be mistaken for a stone in a person’s body. He’s also the Pakhan’s right hand. The one who goes to war and makes sure the Bratva remains strong.”
“I see. How about the other one?”
“Now, he…he’s the actual wild card. His name is Adrian. He’s the strategist of the Bratva and knows everything about everyone—the Pakhan included. And when I say everything, I mean every single fucking thing. It’s impossible to cross him and even more futile to go against him.”
“So the best thing to do is get him on your side.”
“In theory, yes. In reality, however, he’s on no one’s side but his own and only holds loyalty to the Bratva. He’s strong enough to only answer to the Pakhan and be considered the strategist. He’s a bit of a recluse, though, and doesn’t show up as much as everyone else.”
My gaze falls on the men again. While Vladimir and Kirill talk, this Adrian, who I’m starting to think could be the key to Kirill’s inauguration, remains silent, composed, and detached. He barely drinks from his flute, only offers nods occasionally, and doesn’t seem to be disturbed by any presence near him.
That is a dangerous man.
Maybe on the same level as Kirill.
I focus back on Maksim, needing more information to understand the current climate. “I assume Roman Morozov was one of those leaders, and now, one of his sons will take over?”
“You assumed right. Roman was the third of four kings. Boss already lost the internal family vote. Konstantin has Yulia’s vote and her family’s support.”
“Her family?”
“Bankers. Those suckers are richer than God and have the immorality of the devil.” Maksim clicks his tongue. “She was one of the reasons her husband rose in power so tremendously in the first place. She’s using that same method to support Konstantin.”
“But isn’t Kirill a member of their family, too?”
“Not one who brings in profit like his brother does. They don’t care what the name is as long as he’s profitable and is tolerated enough by Yulia to recommend him to her family, but…” He pauses. “And this is a big BUT. Boss can still rule without internal support. He just won’t be able to sleep soundly at night because of how hostile the environment in the house is. Every day will be a battle for his life.”
“How about…Karina? Does she get a vote?”
“Yes, she does, but she might have switched to team Konstantin. She used to be close with Boss, but that was before he left for Russia. Now, she has joined her brother and mother’s anti-fan club.”
I can see that. In fact, I still remember the rage and hostility in her eyes when she stabbed him. She didn’t look like someone who’s on Kirill’s side.
Hell, she’s been doing the ‘I’ll slice your throat’ motion whenever she sees me.
But there’s a weird shift in her expression whenever he’s around. Maybe if I get to the root of the problem…
That thought trails off when Maksim says, “None of this matters if he somehow gets the votes at the next general meeting. Sergei, Vladimir, Adrian, and the three kings, Igor, Mikhail, and Damien, all get to decide whether they will welcome Konstantin or Boss in their midst. Someone from the business front of the Bratva might get a vote, too.”
“Wait. Who’s Damien?”
“No clue.” My friend lifts his shoulder. “He wasn’t around when we left. Rumor has it, he killed the previous king, slaughtered his family, and conveniently took his place. The guards who stayed here while we were gone describe him as a crazy, volatile motherfucker. But we have no way of checking those facts since he chose not to show up today.”
“Can he do that? Miss a leader’s funeral, I mean.”
“Out of respect, no. But if he’s as much of a dark horse as everyone describes him to be, he probably doesn’t give a shit about things like that.”
I see.
I’m starting to understand how this operates. In a way, it’s no different than the army. There are codes of conduct, hierarchy, and goals to be attained.
The only difference is there’s no military law. Just the law of nature—you keep whatever you get.
You kill whoever poses a threat.
Survival of the fittest.
I still don’t know why Kirill chose to stay here instead of going back to Russia. His father is gone, so he can’t interfere in his missions anymore, and he still has loyal men who will follow him anywhere.
He did say that he’ll take over the world, and there was a genuine gleam in his eyes. Dark and sadistic but definitely bright.
So maybe, instead of the army, this is what he actually enjoys doing.
This danger-infested environment does seem to be more in line with his personality.
“Come on.” Maksim grabs my shoulders and pushes me in the opposite direction. “At least go grab something to eat so you won’t fall on your face. Even boring Yuri is on a break.”
“I guess I can take some time off.”
“Thank fuck. Go. Don’t come back for another hour.”
I salute, and he grins in such a charming way that I have no choice but to mirror it.
Once I’m out of his sight, I don’t go to the kitchen. One, Anna dislikes me. Two, Viktor will be a grumpy asshole and give me some type of chore. That guy has zero understanding of the concept of resting.
Three, and most importantly, I’ve been thinking about something ever since Maksim started getting me familiarized with all the players in this game.
Kirill might not have asked for my help, but I have a role to play. Besides, if he stays here, I have more chances to uncover his father’s involvement with my family’s massacre.
The main house is buzzing with people, servants, and a general grim atmosphere, but when I go upstairs, it’s the exact opposite.
The halls are silent, and a more nefarious energy reeks from the walls, growing the farther I go down the hall.
Once I arrive in front of the room I’ve come for, I stop and inhale a deep breath. That proves to be futile, though, since my heart rate picks up.
All of a sudden, the door opens, and I’m greeted by a hellion of a girl. Even though she looks more presentable in her black, lacy mourning dress and a veil that covers half her face, there’s no other word to describe Karina except for menacing.
“What do you want?” she asks with a psychopathic grin. “Oh, have you come to have your throat slit?”
“No,” I say bluntly. “But I did want to talk to you.”
“Oh, fuck off. Don’t you have to be that bastard Kirill’s shadow or something?” She’s about to slam the door in my face, but I jam a hand against it and force my way inside.
Her room is dark, all the curtains are drawn, and she has some satanic-like circle of candles in the right corner.
It smells like her, though. Something lavender-y and girly.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole? I’m gonna scream the whole house down, you fucking psycho! You’re going to be dead before you blink.”
“Is that so?”
She swallows, her throat moving up and down. “If you think I’m bluffing, try me. I swear to fuck I’m gonna have the guards skin you alive while I watch.”
“Funny you’d say that, because I could swear you don’t like it whenever people are around. That’s why you only have your meals in your room and even ask the maids to leave them in front of the door so you won’t have contact with them. It’s also why you ran away from the funeral without even showing your face.”
“That’s none of your business, you stupid fuck! I’m gonna have your balls for dinner tonight. We will see if you’ll continue using that tone then.”
“That won’t be possible, but here’s what might.” I pause until she starts tapping her heel on the floor, showing her lack of patience. “How about you support Kirill?”
“I’ll support him in Hell when he’s being burned for eternity.”
“You act like you can’t stand the sight of him, but really, he’s the only one who thought of you today. Not only did he ask the cook to send breakfast and lunch to your room, but he also specifically told your mother to leave you out of the proceedings. She didn’t listen, but his intention was there.”
Her lips purse, but there’s a subtle softness in the corners of her eyes.
So I was right. Karina acts like murdering Kirill is her life’s mission, but I often catch glimpses of her watching him from behind the curtain of her window like a creep.
She also makes sure to barge into his room every night to threaten him, but she no longer carries weapons.
He ends up hugging her, and she runs back to her room, cursing him all the way to Hell.
It’s not that she hates him. It’s that she probably feels abandoned by him. Someone as reclusive and odd as she is has lost her sense of reality. She’s too sheltered, too spoiled, and too rich for her own good. As a result, she keeps her distance from the world, but when she gets attached to someone, it’s for life.
I’m guessing Kirill was that someone, but when he left, she didn’t take it well.
“What do I care what that piece of shit does?” She lifts her chin. “Why don’t you do the world a favor and drive him off a cliff so both of you can die?”
“Careful what you wish for, Miss. If Kirill doesn’t succeed in his endeavors, he’ll go back to Russia.”
“Hmph. As if Kirill would change his mind so soon. You know nothing about him, asshole.”
“I certainly know more than you do. He already left you once, do you honestly think he won’t do it again? Will you be able to survive this time?”
Her smug expression falls and she stares at me in horror. “You…you…”
“Remember my words.” I salute her with two fingers and walk out of the room under an onslaught of her curses.
Yes, I could’ve gone about this a different way, but I didn’t have time. Or maybe I’m just being molded into someone of Kirill’s caliber.
At any rate, Karina is the only ally he can have here, despite her antics.
At least I hope she chooses to be on his side in this internal war.
Now, I need to figure out how to help Kirill get to the top. The more I’m of use, the more he’ll trust me.
The more he trusts me, the closer I’ll get to revealing his father’s involvement in my family’s death.
