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“Past this point, I’ll take the oath. I just don’t believe in the limits it brings,” I stated. “Will I stop being friends with others? No. Will it stop me from fucking someone from a rival gang if I feel like it? Fuck no.”
“This is my life,” I spoke louder than usual, the rage that had been building inside me for weeks finally breaking through. “And I certainly don’t plan on living it by some set-in-stone rules created by people long gone.”
As the young guy drove me back to the city, I wondered if I’d done enough.
I never reached out to the Irish. Time caught up to me. It was both a loss and a disadvantage. My plan hadn’t gone perfectly but there was no choice but to execute it. I packed the little I’d acquired during this time and headed back to the airport.
The distance wasn’t the only difficulty I was facing. Sneaking into a country on high alert was one of the bigger challenges I’d ever faced. But with enough money and reckless ambition, I was willing to risk it all.
I might’ve been crazy in the head, but the next night, I was airborne for Russia. The place where it all began.
My last stop.
Bratva’s key players were invited to a monstrous house on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Russia. All eager to discuss their next moves against me, no doubt. There was no way I was going to miss that.
All the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Now, I held a handful of cards myself. The balance had shifted, or so I hoped.
The event was an annual gathering, a gala of sorts, held in honor of those who had contributed to the wealth and prosperity of the organization.
It was a tradition that had held for decades, and the Russians were nothing if not traditional.
The surviving members of the founding families and their appointed heirs have been entertained by the Pakhan, by Ilya, for two days. Days filled with negotiations, arguments, persuasion, and overindulgence in the most luxurious food and alcohol money could buy.
I slipped into a fabulous black dress I had bought in Italy, one that gave me the right amount of flexibility, just in case things went sideways. I didn’t bother to tell the shop assistant the real reason I needed it.
By the time I arrived, the meeting had already started. That was exactly how I planned it. After all, who didn’t live for a little drama?
The handler, who I’d been in contact with, opened the massive wooden door. Gasps of shock filled the room.
I held my head high, where it should always have been.
As everyone turned to their fellows for answers, I scanned the crowd for the men I’d come for.
They were actively searching the earth, trying to understand how someone managed to show up on their home turf.
Malek was the first to break through the shock. “How?” he stuttered. “How is she here?”
I turned to the handler, letting him answer. After all, he was the one who managed the guest list.
“Ms. Taya has provided proof of her right to sit at this table,” the old man announced.
If I thought they were shocked before, it was nothing compared to the looks on their faces now.
Ilya sat at the head of the table, his face reddening with each passing second.
I didn’t dare look around, focusing instead on the two faces that had been occupying my mind for the last few months.
Malek, now seated once again to the right of the Pakhan, exploded. His voice roared through the room. “Can someone explain?”
With a brief nod of thanks to the attendant, I entered. The sharp clicking of my heels on the centuries-old floor followed me to the last empty seat.
Once settled, I raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s the problem? I thought you wanted me to become an official member.” I tossed Malek’s earlier demands right back at him.
“What is the meaning of this? Have you changed your mind about marriage?”
I resisted the eye roll. As if. “Oh Malek, not a chance. But I’ll gladly clarify for you.”
I stood, meeting each of their gazes, before the carefully guarded words, carrying the weight of death and misery, slipped from my mouth.