Page 1

Twenty

"I think that we lost the Svoloch. Let's ditch the car and run."

We get out of the Mercedes G-wagon, grab our backpacks, and run through the city.

"Da, I don't see the mudaks," Ivan mutters, looking over his shoulder.

"Hurry," I whisper.

It's a dark night; the clouds in the sky roam over the moon, blocking the moonlight. The night resonates with the dark feelings that fuel my anger, giving me the drive to escape.

"This way!"

I run through the streets and turn down an alley. My cousin Ivan is right behind me; he's coming with me; he's like a brother. He's going to play a huge part in the Bratva once I take back what's mine.

Our life as we knew it is now over. Everyone we loved has been killed by the sukas that are staging a coup. What hurts the most is that I didn't see my Pakhan one last time. I was going to visit him; he wanted me to attend Harvard.

My blood boils thinking about his death and what they did to him. I'll never be able to bury him. He was in his prime, too young to leave me.

I keep running, breathing in the cold, the frigid air threatening to burst my lungs. The fucking weather in Russia is freezing, and I can't stop to take shelter. I need to escape Russia; it's a huge risk but necessary. My Dedushka drilled into me the importance of surviving and forging my destiny. Now that the unspeakable happened, he commanded that I escape, to run towards the White Sea.

Dedushka kissed me on each cheek and stared into my eyes. His blue eyes, with gray specks, were identical to mine.

"Lev, you are now Pakhan; take what's yours; it's your birthright. Follow our plans; go to New York with Ivan. Work with Brigadier Sergei Varkov and keep with the plan.

At the safe house, in the safe room, open the safe. There should be all the documents for properties, businesses, bank accounts, and money that you need. Everything is in your name.

Lev, one more thing. It's time that you know you have two half-brats; look for them and take care of them. You will find other bank accounts that belong to your brats. I'm positive that Pakan left a letter.

Lev, always remember that you're the lion, Pakhan Lev Kravtsov Bratva, the king.

My heart pounds hard, my chest constricts, and I don't know if I will make it. I glance at my cousin Ivan, running with me, running for our lives.

The greedy bastards, the Bratva, want me dead to steal what's rightfully mine.

My cousin Ivan is the only living relative because I know that, at this moment, Dedushka has been executed. The sukas killed the Pakhan, my Papa. Papa was killed last night in New York; that's where he lived. I live here in Russia with Dedushka; he was training me to rule the Bratva. I visit Papa in New York once a year, but we FaceTime every day.

I want to cry, but I can't. Dedushka's words run through my mind

Lev, you will always use your anger and pain to remain strong and merciless.

I grind my molars and focus on escaping. One thought keeps running through my mind.

Revenge.

I need to be strong and lethal, and fucking hell; I will show no mercy.

I swear that I will get my revenge.

My motto!

Kill or be killed!

You know it.

I'm killing every motherfucker that gets in my way.

My cousin Ivan is all I have. My Dyadya Ira, Ivan's Papa, was killed a few weeks ago. That was the warning that we should have heeded. My mama died in childbirth; that's one reason that Papa left Russia and left me with Dedushka. Ivan's mama, Maria, ran off, and Ivan hates her.

I'm running, yeah, I'm scared, and so is Ivan, but we must escape; I must survive this ruthless slaughter. I'm young, da, I'm twenty, but I'll fight; I will survive.

It takes us days to reach the border, to the White Sea. We are looking for a cargo ship that will take us to New York. We're traveling by ship to hide from the sukas that want to kill us off.

"Finally, we arrive in New York."

I look around the dock, adjusting my backpack, it's early morning, and the dock is busy. The cargo ships are lined up out at sea, waiting their turn to dock. The freezing wind whips around us, and I shiver.

"Da, it's been a long trip. But we need to get moving, call the Brigadier," Ivan says, pulling his coat closer around his neck.

"Da, but what if he's not loyal to the Pakhan, I mean to me? People change when there's power and money to be gained. Who knows what the son of bitch that killed Pakhan has offered the Brigadier. He might be working for him. I need to figure it out, and I think it would be wise to seek my half-brats. If I'm lucky, Pakhan left all I need to know at the safe house."

"We have to trust him. We need him to tell us what happened," Ivan scoffs, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nyet! Let's get moving!"

I walk down the street with Ivan, looking around. I'm trying to remember everything I need to do.

Shit, it's just as cold here as in Russia. Geeze, I always visited in the summer, and I thought that it didn't get as cold here in the winter.

"Nyet, I need to figure out if he didn't betray my Pakhan. Let's get an Uber; we did that last year when we were visiting. We can do this on our own."

"Da."

"I want to get everything on my brats. I need to talk to them."

My mind is spinning. So many thoughts, things I need to do, and overwhelming emotions run through my head. I need to push down the feelings, lock them up, and focus on claiming what's mine, the Kravtsov Bratva.

I’m the Pakhan now. My motto is kill or be killed. Blood will run, and I will reign, and retribution will be obtained for the death of my Pakhan.

I will claim what's mine, and my two brats need to be on my side. I do not doubt that Pakhan told my brats about me; therefore, they will be ready for me.

An hour later, we entered the apartment on the twenty-first floor of the apartment complex that I own. Da Pakhan gave it to me. It's top level, and it has its own private elevator. Pakhan took care of masking our ownership behind corporations and anonymous LLCs. Privacy, anonymity, and discretion are viable in the business landscape in New York.

This is where I stayed when I visited Pakhan, and the Bratva didn't know of this safe house except for Pakhan, Dedushka, Ivan, and me. Soon, I'll find out how much my brats know. I bet they know everything, but what I don't get is why Pakhan kept their existence from me.

Pakhan would spend time here with me, but he didn't want the Bratva to know much about me, so that I would remain obscured, as in unrecognizable. He also kept me from my brats.

Mudak!

I have so many questions, and I fucking hope that I get them.

We walk off the elevator into the lighted foyer area, and I walk up to the heavy steel door. I place my hand on the pad and enter the password, and the sound of the mechanism clicks, and the heavy steel door opens.

Pakhan thoroughly customized this apartment with bullet-proof doors, walls, and glass windows to protect me and make it a safe house, pretty impenetrable. Everything I need is here, and the place is stocked with food and ammunition.

I walk into the apartment and place my backpack on the side table. I look around, and I can't help but feel relief. All of the memories of Pakhan and Dedushka flood my mind, and my throat tightens. One thought runs through my mind.

This is home.

"Der'mo, it’s been hell escaping Russia, and I'm so happy to be home," I say, running my fingers through my hair.

"Da, I'm hungry, tired, and stinky. So, I'm going to shower, eat, and sleep," Ivan huffs, walking to the kitchen.

"Da, make sure to make plenty, I'm starving."

"Will do," Ivan hums, walking to the sink and washing his hands.

I walk to my bedroom, take off my clothes, and take a hot shower. Then, I pull on some black sweatpants and a T-shirt.

I feel my anger settle deep inside my soul; it's on a low simmer, and I know that I won't be happy until I kill the Svoloch'. I might be young, but I've been training my entire life. I was groomed to be Pakhan. I will make them pay. I'm lucky that Ivan is with me, he's been like a brat, trained along with me.

I walk into my closet to get to the safe room that’s located between the bathroom and closet. Nobody would ever know by looking in my room. I press a button hidden in the built-in cabinet. It pops open, and I walk into the safe room. I close it and look for the journal and letter.

Ivan doesn't know, so now is a good time to take a quick look because I need to know what the fuck is going on. Pakhan always wrote daily reports on key issues, sort of like a dairy. So, I need to look at his last journal and the letter. Da, Dedushka said to read the letter.

The letter is on the desk, and the journal is next to it. Several journals are stacked in the left corner. I scrub my face, closing my eyes. I inhale deeply and swallow to get rid of the knot in my throat.

I open my eyes, grab the letter, and I stare at the folded letter, and it's fucking insane. Sure, the safe room is safe, yeah, but leaving fucking evidence around on paper is stupid. But then, the PC's can be hacked. Okay, damn if you do, and damn if you don't.

I unfold the letter, spreading it out and removing the creases. I blink several times to clear my eyes and start reading it.

Lev,

I know that you're reading this letter because I'm gone. It also means that I was taken out, a coup, and it's fucking unforgivable. I'm positive that my Obshchak Balakin did it. Emil Balakin has always been furious and jealous that he didn't get the Bratva. As you know, the previous Pakhan Denis didn't have an heir, so he elected me instead of Balakin to be Pakhan.

It's the nature of men always to covet what others have and seek more money and power. It doesn't matter how well you treat them or how much money they earn; men want more.

Lev, always remember to question and do not trust, not even your shadow. Obviously, I forgot to do so, even though I knew that he was a traitorous suka.

Lev, seek out my Brigadier Varkov. He's trustworthy and can inform you of Balakin's plans. He will also provide soldiers and help in any way.

Be careful and safe; this is a war. Show no mercy, don't back down, and attack with all your might.

I have so much to say, but the most important thing is that you're my son, my pride and joy.

Lev, forgive me for not telling you about your Brats. I need you to meet them, go to their home. They live with their Mama Polina Belov, a good woman who gave me solace when your Mama passed.

Your Brats Czar and Anatoly Kravtsov were trained intensely as you, and they know and love you because that's what I taught them. They're twins, and they're a year younger than you.

Please do not be pissed or feel slighted because I thought it was best to keep you apart. Please do not take it out on your Brats; it was my decision. I didn't want you furious knowing that they lived here in New York and you were living in Russia. Nor for you to feel abandoned because it's not the case. I wanted to protect you and your Brats from the Bratva.

Lev, I'm at peace knowing that I made the best decision by keeping all three of you concealed from Bratva. Bratva knows about you but does not know about your Brats. Bratva doesn't know the details of your life or how you look; therefore, I feel confident that it's keeping you alive because I know that my enemies would have killed you a long time ago. It's the best decision I have ever made to have you live in Russia with Dedushka.

Now, you're a man, lethal and strong. You will be a great Pakhan.

Look at my journals to learn what the fuck was happening, and the information will help you plan your attack. There are also files on your Brats with details, photos, and videos so you can get to know them prior to meeting them.

I left a file on all of the properties, bank statements, and everything in your name. Your Brats have bank accounts and properties in their names. I separated the money and property evenly, but you had additional since you're Pakhan.

Lev, please, I need you to make your Brats your two spies. Czar to be your Sovietnik, your support group. He's trained to be your right-hand, close adviser, and strategist.

Anatoly will be your Obshchak, the security group. He's perfect because he's brilliant in IT, security, and communications.

You three are my pride, joy, and greatest treasure!

The suka who did the coup doesn't have a clue that he doesn't have the Bratva; you do. He can't take over the Kravtsov Bratva properties nor money. He's about to find out, and then he will be out to get you.

I'm positive that you're the new Pakhan. So, remember to roar like the king, the Pakhan that you are. Dedushka and I trained you for all possibilities in the lifestyle of the Bratva. I know that you're ready.

Do not falter, and remember our motto.

Kill or be killed.

I pray that you did make it out of Russia.

Get ready and take back your birthright, the Kravtsov Bratva.

I love you, my Lev, my lion.

Love you, your Papa.

The emotions are choking me; my throat feels like it's closing up. I gasp for air, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. I'm pissed, frustrated, and sad that Pakhan didn't trust me enough to tell me about my Brats. But he wanted to protect us by keeping us apart and hidden away.

It doesn't matter, it still hurts.

Fucking hell!

I fold the letter and place it inside the file, my Brats file. I'm going to review my Brats files before contacting them. That's the first thing I'm going to do. But first, I need to eat and sleep.

I rub my chest, grind my molars, and inhale deeply, closing my eyes. I need to get past this hurt and embrace the fact that I have two Brats.

I walk out of the safe room and out of the closet. I run my hands through my wet hair and grab my cell phone from the bed. Thank fuck this is my home, and it feels good being here.

I exit my room to get some food and tell Ivan that I need to talk to my Brats and Brigadier Varkov. I plan to watch Varkov for a few days until I'm satisfied that he's not part of the coup. Then, I'll approach him.

It's late, and I grab my cell phone. I look at the cell numbers on the pc and slide my fingers over the screen. I type the text message to my brats.

Lev ~ Hey, we need to talk tonight.

I look at my screen, and it pleases me that they're on it. I stare at the little dots dancing on the screen, nodding. My Brats are responding.

Czar ~ Indeed. Where and time?

Anatoly ~ Will do.

Lev ~ My apartment in thirty.

Czar ~ Will be there.

Anatoly ~ Ok.

Lev ~ Take an Uber, walk into the parking garage, and text me at the curb. I'll send Ivan down.

Czar ~ Will do.

I walk out of my bedroom and walk into the living room. Ivan is looking out the big glass window into the city, holding a glass of Vodka. It's an amazing sight.

"My Brats will be here in thirty."

Ivan turns, gathers his brows, shaking his head.

"Der'mo, that's not a great idea. You don't know them, and you're bringing them here to the safe house," Ivan grunts, shaking his head.

"Da. They're my Brats, and Pakhan told me to trust them. I want you to play nice and not be a suka.”

Ivan rolls his eyes and takes a drink of Vodka. I cross my arms, looking at him.

"Are you sure that you want to meet them before scouting them?"

"Da, they're my Brats."

"But you don't know them."

"I do know them. Pakhan told me everything I need to know about them."

"I don't agree for us just to trust them. I think it's a mistake to allow them to come here."

My cell beeps, and I look at the text.

"My Brats are down in the garage. Please get them."

Ivan glares at me, turns and walks out of the apartment. I wait, my gut twists, and I'm fucking nervous. I don't know what to expect, but I'm being optimistic. Pakhan won't lie; I trust him.

A few minutes later, my Brats and Ivan walk into the apartment. I look at them; they're not identical twins. I can see my Papa in them. We have his cobalt blue eyes. My heart aches, and I grind my molars. These two are my Brats, and I feel so many emotions.

I walk over to them and give them the Russian greeting, a hug, and kisses on the cheeks.

"Hey, I'm happy to meet you. Pakhan told me all about you two," I say, greeting them.

"Hell yes, I'm so happy to meet you," Czar says, greeting me the Russian way.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Brat," Anatoly hums, greeting me.

We step back, and we smile at each other. It feels good to have Brats, and we're so close in age.

"Brats, so Ivan introduced himself," I ask, raising my brow as I look at Ivan.

"Da, I did," Ivan hisses, curling up his upper lip.

"Da, we also know of him from our Pakhan," Czar says, nodding.

"Da. Brats, do you have information on the Pakhan's assassination or the coup," I ask, raising my brow.

"No, since Pakhan kept us away from the Bratva. But he did mention that his Obshchak Emil Balakin was going against his orders," Anatoly says, crossing his arms.

"We don't, and it fucking sucks. They butchered our Pakhan and scattered his body along Brighton Beach. It's clearly a loud and clear message. The entire Russian community, the Little Odessa, is aware of his death," Czar says, leaning back in his chair."

"Fuck! The fucker that pulled the coup is still in the shadows? I'm positive that the police don't know, and if they did, the suka must have paid them off."

"Da, we haven't heard anything in the dark underworld web; it's been silent, and our informants haven't heard anything.," Anatoly says, grinding his molars.

"I hate that we were not there to protect him," Czar says in a low, gruff voice.

I stare at my Brats and scrub my face.

"I need a drink. Brats, would you like to drink some Vodka?"

"Da, yes," They respond.

I look at Ivan, raising my brow.

"I’ll get the glasses and Vodka,” Ivan hums, walking to the bar in the corner of the room.

“What about Varkov, his Brigadier? Is he trustworthy? Pakhan said that he was,” I ask, looking at them.

“Da, that’s what he told us,” Czar says, nodding.

“Pakhan said that he told us everything that he told you,” Anatoly says, gathering his brows.

“Da, I’m going to contact him, and I want you two to go with me. But I want to meet up with him somewhere that’s isolated in the middle of the night. I don’t want anyone to see us. We can’t have the Bratva learn of our existence, not until we kill the bastard that did the coup,” I hiss, looking at my Brats.

“Da, it sounds like a plan,” Czar says, nodding.

Ivan returns with the four glasses and the Vodka. He pours them and hands each of us a glass.

“Thanks,” I say, looking at Ivan.

“Da, all good,” Ivan hums, taking a drink of Vodka.

“Pakhan mentioned that you two are my two Spies. Czar, you’re my Sovietnik, and Anatoly, you’re my Obshchak,” I say, looking at them.

I hear Ivan hiss, and he walks away, drinking his Vodka. I glance at him, pressing my lips; he looks pissed off.

“Da, Pakhan told us, and it’s a pleasure to have your six,” Czar hums, smiling.

“Da, we got you, Brat,” Anatoly hums, nodding.

“Great, now we need to get to work; I want to kill that svoloch’ that dared to take out our Pakhan,” I growl, gathering my brows.

We order some pizza, gather around the table, and make plans.

As soon as my Brats leave, Ivan starts grumbling. I watch him closely, resting my hands on my waist. It’s like a fucking jealousy switch was turned on. I’ve never seen Ivan so riled, so pissed off.

“I still think that we can’t trust your Brats. I don’t feel it’s right. It’s a mistake to make them your two spies. What’s up with that?”

“I make the decisions, and it’s right for them to be my Two Spies; they’re my blood!”

“I’m your blood! I’ve been with you since we were in diapers.”

I stare at Ivan, and I understand his anger, but he’s not my Brat. My Pakhan was confident that my Brats would have my back.

“I made my decision. You’re still my right-hand man,” I say, lowering my eyelids.

“It’s not the fucking same! I thought that I was going to be one of your Spies. What the fuck!”

“Ivan, that’s enough! Remember, I’m your Pakhan, and I will not tolerate your insolence!”

“Fuck you,” Ivan yells, walking out of the apartment.

A month later.

My Brigadier Varkov is as solid as you can be. He had Soldiers who were loyal and ready to work and now working for me. He handed over a file of what transpired, every detail of my Pakhan’s death, and all the activity in the Bratva a few months leading up to his demise.

We watched the svoloch’ every day, ensuring that we had his schedule down to the last minute of his day.

It’s the middle of the night, the wind is cold, but that’s okay. I’m stretched out on my stomach, dressed in black tactical clothes, and wearing my black balaclava. I look through the scoop of my rifle. Yeah, I’m an excellent shot, and I’m going to fucking kill Balakin.

A few minutes later, a black SUV pulls up to the black back door. Then I watch the old svoloch’, Obshchak Balakin walks out of his club, swaying. He’s only a few feet away from his SUV. But since they’ve done this forever, they have their guard down. The mudak loves to drink his Vodka and feels confident of getting inebriated at his club.

Balakin has a clandestine gambling club that you can only enter by a special key. But we know his routine and the old svoloch’ never deviates. What a fool, we got him.

It's finally time for his annihilation. He won’t know what hit him.

I watch Balakin from the opposite building, lying flat on the roof with my sniper rifle. Of course, I’m taking him out. It has to be me, I’m the fucking Pakhan, the lion, the king.

I look through the scoop, press the trigger, and shoot him in the eye.

An eye for an eye, right?

I shoot consecutively, shooting him in his black, treacherous heart. Then I shoot his guards, stupid Soldiers.