Page 121 of Arranged Control

I stay on my feet. Otherwise, they’d all be looking down on me.

“Gaspoda, bratya, tovarishchi. I appreciate you all for coming tonight, especially those who had to travel far.”

“Anything for my comrades!” one drunken general calls out. He’s the leader of our family branch back in Moscow, and his cheeks are bright red.

There’s some laughter, and I wait for the men to settle. Once they’re all paying close attention, I spread my hands.

“You all know why we’re here. It has been three months since my father died. Three months without a true Pakhan is a very long time.”

There are murmurs throughout the room. “God rest his soul,” Viktor calls out, followed by more blessings in Russian and English. Once silence returns, I speak again.

“You all know about Taras’s terrible wound. You’ve all heard of his time in the hospital, his struggle to heal, his miraculous recovery. However, I’m here to make it clear that there was no miracle involved in Taras regaining his strength. My brother worked harder than I’ve ever seen a man work in my life. He bled, suffered, and sweated every day to reach this point. And now,gaspoda, I am here to announce that he is ready.”

More murmurs. These are subdued, however. I glance at several faces, men who had been pushing for a different Pakhan over the last few months. They don’t look happy, but there are only a few of them.

I continue my speech.

“Now we vote to confirm him. This is merely a formality. Once that’s finished, my brother is waiting in the courtyard where a tent has been prepared. You will all go and induct him officially,using all methods and ceremonies required by the Bratva. That is a place I will not go since it’s not my right. But I will oversee his ascension here and now. All those against Taras, speak now.”

I wait. The quiet is oppressive. I had assumed at least one or two voices might raise, but no mouths open. I’m met with hard stares instead.

This is the customary way it’s done. Men take power—they aren’t voted into it. A challenge can be raised, but only by a general in good standing.

Otherwise, my father’s wishes will be upheld.

Taras will become the new Pakhan.

“Very good then,” I say softly, letting the gravity of the moment settle. I glance at Viktor. He’s grinning widely. It seems all our hard work paid off.

“Za Pakhanna!” my cousin shouts, raising a glass.

A chorus comes up as the men drink.Za Pakhanna, za Pakhanna, za Pakhanna!Laughter returns as the men begin puffing and drinking again, and I go around the room shaking hands. Even my former enemies have the good grace to congratulate me.

They all know this was my doing.

I could’ve let Taras rot. Nobody would’ve blamed me if I decided to find a way to step into the power vacuum like Seamus suggested in the hallway.

But even though Taras and I were never close, he’s still family.

I learned the hard way that family is more important than anything else.

I worked my ass off to help Taras recover as quickly as he could. I played the politics game behind the scenes. I threatened, bought, and did what I could.

All for this night.

I drink a couple of shots along with the men before they filter out of the room, leaving a mess behind.

“Well done,Matushka,” Viktor says once everyone else is gone. “You belong in the tent as well tonight.”

“But that’s not how it works. My part’s over now. I won, and that’s good enough for me.”

Viktor nods once, grinning slightly. “But now if there’s ever a problem, I know who I should go to.”

I groan and try to tell him to throw that thought in the trash, but he’s already walking off.

Seamus appears once he’s gone. He sits in a chair and pulls me down into his lap. The Russian men look at me like a big, strong woman, or maybe alittle motherlike Viktor just called me, but Seamus sees who I really am.

Just Alina. Organized, scheduled, and deeply in love, Alina.