Page 1 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

We’ve been having these meetings for the past two months, and I’m starting to wonder what the point of them even is. My brothers and our allies speak as though the Sokolovs are untraceable. It feels like where we should be making progress, we choose instead to gather around and feel defeated.

To me, the Sokolovs are simply men, and weak men at that. There’s no reason we can’t find them.

“They’ve gone underground somewhere, I’m telling you,” Faddey declares with a grimace.

“We believe you,” Nikolai Orlov nods at my brother. “Our men have nothing.”

I find my oldest brother Agafon’s face in the room, watching him carefully in the hope that he’ll stop all this hopeless talk and push our brothers and allies to take action. We’re wasting time every second we’re not out there searching for the Sokolovs.

But Agafon remains quiet. He watches for consensus, and I already know where this conversation is headed. The Orlovs and Zolotovs have hinted it might be time to call this wild goose chase off.

“Look,” Ardalion, or Lion, as we all call him now, rubs his fingers against his forehead. “We’re wasting resources.”

“Wasting resources?” I ask coldly. “I didn’t know you lacked them, given how the Zolotovs back you.”

Abram Zolotov levels a glare at me. “We’ve got our own businesses to run,” he says, before turning with guilt toward Lion. “Please, try to understand we’ve put everything into this for two months now. All we meet are dead ends.”

“We understand,” says Lion.

I feel the blood in me heat, my lust for revenge getting stronger. Seeing Lion agree with our allies feels like a traitorous move. How could he allow this, when Viktor Sokolov beat his sister up so much that she took weeks to heal? Weeks!

I still remember that harrowing night we were out there, looking for my sister-in-law Lilibeth. My brother Agafon had been a mess when he learned Viktor Sokolov had kidnapped Lilibeth because of his hatred for my brother.

“Agafon!” I roar at my brother. “Tell them this is madness. We have to keep looking,” I insist. “Think of your wife!”

I turn to Lion, Benedikt, Sergey, and Samuil. “Think of your sister!”

Agafon sighs and leans back in his chair. “Lilibeth is safe now,” he says, staring right at me.

I slam my fist on the table, and everyone turns to look at me. I meet Nikandr’s eyes and see the guilt etched on his face.

“They almost ruined you, Nik,” I tell my brother. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you want revenge?”

Nikandr sighs. “Brother, I hear you. The Sokolovs have taken a lot from all of us. But if they’re not to be found—”

“Then we must look harder!” I bellow, unable to understand why everyone is so keen to just give up.

“Ilariy, you need to calm down,” Agafon insists.

“The Sokolovs are scattered around in hiding. Their leader, Viktor, is dead by our hands. Yes, they’ve got a new family running the show now.

But Tikhon and his siblings are weak. Many of their loyal followers defected after their cousin died.

What’s left isn’t worth this obsession, and we got our revenge by killing Viktor, didn’t we? ”

“Not worth it?” My voice drops dangerously low. “Have you forgotten what they did to Nikandr? To your wife. We almost lost them both, and you know it. Nikandr…still struggles.”

Our brother hasn’t been the same since what the old Sokolov leader embroiled him in. The torture he faced went beyond scars. And Lilibeth... I can’t even think about what she endured without wanting to kill someone.

Nikandr stands silently at the far end of the table, his face showing no emotional. He doesn’t join these discussions much anymore. On some level, I feel like he blames himself still. Just being in the same room with him fuels my hatred for the Sokolovs.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Agafon says softly. “But we have other business that needs attention. The shipment from Turkey—”

“Fuck the shipment,” I cut in. “We have people for that.”

Bogdan clears his throat. “Ilariy, we’ve turned over every rock in this city. The new Sokolov leader—this Tikhon—he’s playing it smart. Too smart.”

“We’ve got ears everywhere,” Lion adds. “Nothing. It’s like they vanished.”

I laugh sarcastically. “You’re Lilibeth’s oldest brother, and this is how you talk? You really think all of our might combined can’t find them?”

“Our mights have been combined for two months, Ilariy,” Lion argues back.

“And of course I have every reason to hate the Sokolovs for what they did to my sister. But I also know our businesses are struggling while we stay focused on tracking the Sokolovs. You know what happens when our businesses suffer? We weaken. Our families go into danger. We must protect what we have now, or we risk losing it all by getting blindsided in our need for revenge.”

“But—” I try to step in, but Agafon holds up his hand.

“But nothing. Everyone is right. We must thank our allies.” He looks at the Orlovs and Zolotovs, “and must protect what we have. Lilibeth and Nikandr are safe. We will have our revenge…someday. The search must end, for now.”

No one argues. No one stands up for what I want. In anger, I throw back my chair and rise.

“Do what you all must,” I say coldly. “Just don’t expect me to sit around like you losers.”

“Ilariy…” Agafon warns, but I’m already heading for the door.

***

If our allies and my brothers want to pause this manhunt, let them. So far, we’ve sent our men out to hunt the new Sokolov leader and his family, but I know that if I hit the ground, I might find something they don’t.

While Viktor Sokolov was the one who took Lilibeth and ruins my brother Nikandr’s life, I know he couldn’t have done it without his cousins’ help. Viktor might be dead, but the other culprits still live, and I intend to find them.

I step outside and am met by the cold New York winter air. The night is just beginning, and I’m going to hunt until the sun comes up. One of the guards motions at my security detail, but I wave them off.

“I’m heading out alone,” I tell my driver and take the car keys.

Once in the car, I put in the location for Dirty Goose. The liquor shop acts as just a front, but once you give the passcode, you’re led behind and down into a gentleman’s club known by few, but all who matter.

It’s not exactly friendly territory, but it’s not hostile either. It’s the perfect place to pick up information.

As I drive, I can’t stop thinking about Nikandr. My brother used to be the life of every party; Always quick to laugh and fight, but loyal to a fault. Now he’s just a shell, and it’s all because of the Sokolovs.

Their old boss exhibited a particular kind of cruelty, but the cousins are cut from the same cloth. The new leader, Tikhon, is the oldest, alongside Andrei and Alexey.

And they’re all equally guilty in my book.

They also have a sister. I have a brief folder on her, but I never cared to learn more than her name and face. It’s her brothers I’m truly after.

I park just behind Dirty Goose, in one of the spots reserved for regulars. The Dirty Goose’s gentleman’s club is a spot I frequent regularly. Always fun, always promising a night of debauchery.

I walk up to the liquor shop and see it’s busy tonight with a large line outside the cash register. I enter and walk straight to the back, where I see the door stating, “employees only”.

I nod to the bouncer, and he recognizes me and lets me right through.

Inside, there are dusty bottles lining the walls. An old man sits on a little stool and looks up from his paper when he hears me enter the small storage room.

“I’m here to sample the back catalog,” I say.

He presses a button under the counter. A section of the back wall slides open, revealing a narrow staircase.

I climb down to the underground club and can hear the low hints of music growing louder the deeper I go. When I push through the door at the bottom, I’m hit with the familiar smell of nightclubs: liquor, cigars, and subtle hints of perfume.

This isn’t a flashy kind of club. It’s the kind where everyone looks like old money.

The men are all well-dressed, cufflinks intact, huddled around private booths.

There are beautiful women in every direction, dressed in silks and diamonds.

Some wives, some mistresses, some escorts.

The thing is, no one asks questions out here.

It’s a place to let loose and not judge. That’s why I love coming here.

But tonight, I’m not here for fun. The women, however beautiful, cannot distract me from my mission.

I’m going to get a drink, start chatting, and ask around for news on the new Sokolov leaders.

There must be someone here who knows something, since the clientele is mostly Bratva and people in various positions within different organizations.

I make my way to the bar, nodding to people I recognize. I order a neat vodka and find a stool with a good view of the room.

For around fifteen minutes, I watch and listen, picking up snippets of conversation. There’s some talk about the Italians moving in on someone’s territory down south. Whispers about a police captain willing to be bribed. But there’s nothing about the Sokolovs, though.

I’m about to stand and walk around the room to pull people into conversations, to see if I can get someone to slip up, when the door opens and I notice the Kuznetsov crew enter.

I sit back down and watch with narrowed eyes.

They aren’t exactly enemies, but they’re definitely not friends.

They’ve been trying to expand their territory for years, sometimes edging into ours.

In fact, once upon a time, they ran with Viktor Sokolov, and I decide to keep my eye on them, wondering if I could use them as bait to lure out Tikhon and his brothers.

The five men take a table near the exit, and that’s when I notice her. She follows them, and when they sit, says something and turns, but one of them grips her hand and leers, pulling her down to sit beside him.

Even from here, I can tell she’s uncomfortable. Her shoulders are rigid, and her hands are clasped tightly in her lap. She’s not dressed for this place, as though she never meant to come here. She’s wearing jeans and a simple black chiffon top, something one would wear while running errands.

I stand and inch closer to get a good look at her, just out of curiosity. Her light brown hair falls around her shoulders, and even in the dim light, I can see her eyes darting around the room, never settling.

Something about her seems familiar. When she turns slightly, and the light catches her face, my blood freezes.

I know those eyes—a unique blue-green that I’ve seen in photographs during our intelligence gathering. I know that face, though I’ve never seen it in person until now.

Arina Sokolov. The baby sister of our enemies.

My first thought is that she’s here on business, but that makes no sense. She looks all wrong for a woman conducting business. There’s no confidence in her posture, no power in her presence.

She looks lost.

I watch more carefully now. One of the Kuznetsov men puts his hand on her thigh. She flinches, but she doesn’t push him away. She can’t. Another man leans in, whispers something in her ear, and her face goes pale.

This isn’t a business meeting. This is something else entirely.

The pieces click together in my mind. The Kuznetsovs have somehow gotten their hands on Arina Sokolov. They’ve taken her.

And now, I know exactly what to do.