Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  Behind my lids, Ophelia’s 22nd birthday only 5 months ago flashed vividly. I knew it was fruitless, but even then, I wanted her to have that symbol. She deserved to look at that ring and feel like a woman in love. For a few moments, maybe she’d try it on and fantasize about life with me… just a professor and his wife.

  It was cruel.

  My cheek twitched as my phone gave off an insistent buzz, and I shook my head viciously. Ophelia wasn’t awake; she was probably the worst morning person I’d ever met. Especially, considering last night, chances were good she wouldn’t wake up until noon.

  Unknown Number: ‘Meet me in Red Square at 1pm.’

  Tapping my phone against my thigh, I grimaced down at the screen. I wasn’t good with games…mysteries, yes, but not games. And I had no doubt at all that this was a game in which I staked my life.

  For Ophelia, I would do it.

  6

  Ophelia

  “So, you got a creepy text after getting ambushed by Makovich in your office… and you still went? Why?” Standing over the stove, I cast Sascha a curious glance over my shoulder.

  He shrugged, not tearing his eyes off whatever he was reading.

  Scanning him through narrowed eyes, I pursed my lips thinly to hide my frown. “What happened?”

  “For what it’s worth, it wasn’t that creepy a meeting. I was approached by someone named Kiri, but she was obviously expecting someone more handsome.” I snorted at the drawl, turning back to the stove to stir my noodles with an ugly smile. “Why does everyone think I have to be really hot for you to want me? I’m going to be 40 in a few months. I think I look pretty good.”

  “You are really hot to me, Sascha and don’t change the subject. What’d she want? That’s one of Vyachaslav’s daughters…the youngest one.” My brows furrowed in thought as I stared down at the boiling water. Kiri Makovich was a proper slacker; she never did anything requiring too much energy. The few times I’d met her, it was obvious she didn’t put much into her appearance. Whatever she could reach, she threw on, even if it didn’t match.

  “I’m honestly not sur,” he replied. “All she did was complain about how her brother was sending her around like a chicken with its head cut off. Said she hated Saint Petersburg, how she wanted to come back to Moscow and fade into obscurity. Basically… you, if you were a whiny brat who never takes responsibility for anything.” He slapped the paper he was reading on the table to groan in foreboding. “I barely got a word in. I don’t know how that old man managed to raise all those kids and got such a mixed bag.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak… and yet, she complained like that to you?” To say the clash of experience was odd was an understatement, and I turned to face Sascha fully. He looked tired, and guilt clawed at my throat as I raked my hand through my hair. “After dinner, I was going to go back to my apartment for the night. My handler is supposed to show up at some point in the next few days, and I have to go to my parent’s house in the morning to figure out what the hell is going on.”

  “Do you think you’ll find anything you don’t want Makovich to know about?” Sasha asked.

  I gnawed on my inner cheek as I nodded.

  Sascha scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Whatever your parents were into, you’re going to clean it up before it becomes a scandal.”

  “They tried to kill Vyachaslav and not Aleksander. I need to find out why. I have a few theories— the most likely one being that the Avernisk’s tried to pin everything on us. Erik was good at that… making people think his ideas were their ideas. It didn’t matter in the end, but I know he’s alive. Aleksander would’ve kept him alive for the same reason he kept me alive.” My brain churned endlessly, trying to eliminate possibilities. I didn’t know enough about the whole picture yet, to pinpoint the Avernisk’s motives. Of course, Aleksander wouldn’t need to interrogate them, but that put me in a bad way. “What happened to the others— do you know?” Clenching my jaw, I inhaled deeply.

  Sascha turned his quizzical gaze to me. “If he kept one of all of the families alive, maybe if you found out who, you’d get closer to an answer.”

  “I know he kept the kids alive, he shipped them all to Saint Petersburg so he could control them better. They’re options to him. If I mess up, he goes on to Cori, and so on. The Avernisk’s didn’t have any underage kids, but Erik is the youngest, so it stands to reason he’d be the one Aleksander kept.” The more I talked myself through it, the more confusing everything was. Getting a handle on Aleksander’s motives, let alone the families, was a tangled web of steel cables. Each time I tried to grab a strand, I got cut from how tightly they wound together. “I’m assuming Roknevi and Suvensk are the same. The four families have barely any interaction with Aleksander, and I seriously doubt he cares about us at all. Knowing how he reacts, we’re all replaceable, and he’s more than willing to do so. So… why bother keeping us around?”

  Sasha nodded. “Aleksander’s the most powerful man in Russia because of his socialist bullshit agenda. He’s a proper mass politician, and everything he does is under scrutiny. Maybe, he doesn’t want to make too big a mess that he’ll have to clean up. You know, Ophelia, it does make a little sense. If he didn’t want to do a full overhaul, he’d pick who would serve him best from the choices already available.” Sascha frowned at his own words.

  I nodded again, as those beautiful, brown eyes met mine.

  “If you could predict who would live,” Sasha went on. “You could theoretically manipulate Aleksander into eliminating your competition. If Erik Avernisk is so damn smart, who’s to say he’s not the cause of all of this?”

  “It’d make sense if that was the case. If Erik counted on Aleksander reacting the way he did, it wouldn’t be much of a leap to figure out who would be left behind. It’s not a secret that I’m more competent. Suvensk would be… Aleksi, maybe. Roknevi might be Rucca.” Turning back to the stove, I pursed my lips thinly as the picture in my head became a little clearer. I’m stupid. “Aleksander has little experience with each of us. I’ve never even personally met him until a few days ago. What if that’s the whole point of this? It was destined to fail and is going according to plan?”

  “I don’t know… that’s a level of scheming too far for me.” Sascha went back to his grading.

  I flicked the burner off as, but the nagging in my head didn’t die down. Obviously, I was missing some key information. Grabbing the pot, I shuffled my way over to the stove to drain my pasta.

  Sasha looked up at me. “Oppie… you don’t want to get caught off guard again, but speculating isn’t going to do you any good. Let’s have a nice dinner, and I’ll walk you home after.”

  “My life is on the line, Sascha… I can’t get caught off guard again.”

  Behind me, Sascha stood up, his chair scraping slightly on the hardwood.

  Filling the pot with an inch or two of water, I closed my eyes when he wrapped his arms around me. His warmth seeped into my back, his own hands covering mine in quiet support.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Ophelia? What is Makovich hanging over you to make you worry this way?”

  Chapped lips brushed my neck and jaw, and a shaky sigh crowded my chest. Sascha’s questions echoed in my ears, insistent but not too insistent. “He told me… that if I wasn’t useful, he’d find someone who was.” Shame coated my tongue, sticking to the roof of my mouth as I frowned darkly. “He’s got no problem removing anyone that gets in his way. This is serious, Sascha. Aleksander would never let anyone from the families just leave.”

  “Okay. I’ll handle this, you go sit.”

  An ugly, black blotch engulfed my insides at my little, white lie. Slipping out from under Sascha, I walked the short distance to throw myself into his vacant chair. Covering my face with my hands, my fingers inched into my hair while my heart made a bid to squeeze out between my ribs.

  “Earlier, at the Square,” Sasha spoke again. “I did manage to learn that Aleksander is replacing peop
le with his siblings. Kiri wasn’t happy about being forced to work. What do you think that means?”

  Propping my elbows on the table, I inhaled a deep breath through flared nostrils. My eyelids fluttered closed, but my mind didn’t stop whirring at a frantic pace. If Aleksander had been planning anything before the assassination attempt on his father, I surely wouldn’t know about it. That was worrying; Aleksander didn’t answer to anyone. Traditionally, the head families kept this kind of thing in check, but he obviously couldn’t care less about tradition. “I won’t really know anything until I get to my parents’ place in the morning. You know, Sascha… I’m really regretting the whole not eloping with you thing right now. Aleksander reaches far, but not as far as America. That’s the only thing I’m sure of right now. The last thing Makovich needs is to piss off Carlyle Santino.”

  Sascha’s curious gaze settled on my shoulders.

  I blustered a heavy sigh. My not-so-subtle change of subject worked, at least. “If we got married, I could get an American visa on your dual citizenship, and Aleksander wouldn’t be able to touch us there.”

  “There’s someone Aleksander is afraid of?” Sasha asked.

  Grunting lowly at the amused, disbelieving lilt in Sascha’s tone, I shook my head. Makovich was so, so careful when it came to America, and ‘why’ was one more thing I knew for certain. Santino was dangerous ‒ a psychopathic, world ‒ wide phenomena that took down the Italians in a single blow. Not that it was that hard… “If there’s one person in this world that Aleksander Makovich respects, it’s Carlyle Santino. My parents always tried to push Vyachaslav to do something about him, but the old man never gave in. I assume that Aleksander and Carlyle have an agreement of some sort that’s more beneficial to keep up than rip apart. Carlyle owns the Americas, Canada, England. Even Makovich doesn’t have that kind of influence. West of Iraq is his. While it’s great for drugs and stuff, Makovich isn’t a household name across the world like Santino. Carlyle Santino took down the Italian Mafia in one hit.”

  “Oh… I wonder what it’d be like to be a fly on that wall,” Sasha mused.

  I’m sure I’ll find out at some point. Vyachaslav was the target of an assassination attempt. At the very least, Carlyle Santino will come to scope out the stability of the Russians. I’m more concerned about why Vyachaslav is following Sascha…

  There wasn’t much I could do about it right now; until I had more information, I was fairly powerless. And that sucked.

  7

  Ophelia

  Gazing up at my parent’s humble home: a 3 story mansion with a really ugly fountain in the middle of the circular driveway… I reached to rub my face. I hadn’t even stepped inside, but I already felt frustrated. Tiredness hung my lids low, clinging to the backs of my eyes to throb lightly. As if a sleepless night wasn’t bad enough, my blood was a thick slurry of anxiety and fear of what I would find beyond the ornately carved front door.

  My parents were stupid. That much was proven without a doubt. They were already in the ground in some nondescript grave, maybe somewhere on the property. Truth be told, I couldn’t care less at this point; what’s done is done and should stay done. No one could’ve stopped Aleksander Makovich, and no good could ever come from my lingering on the past.

  But that past also affected my future far too directly for my comfort. Clenching my hands into tight fists, I scrunched up my nose as I started up the wide steps. My parents had modeled this house after Aleksander’s, as if that would somehow impress him. The opulence of every detail was excruciating, and the ache in my eyes intensified with each step. Grabbing the curved, brass handle, I sucked in a huge breath through flared nostrils and held it.

  My heart beat wildly before I opened the door, and dead silence met me. All the staff had been laid off, but what shocked my system was the noiselessness left behind. The stillness— a barrette dropping on the tile would be as loud as an earthquake. Gazing around at the utter lack of presence, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly to rub my goosebumps off my biceps.

  “Creepy.” My voice echoed, and a shiver raced up my spine to bristle the hairs on the back of my neck. This is like those haunted house shows Sascha likes to watch. Shutting the door behind me with a damning click of the lock, I gulped down the tightness in my throat. The tiles had a faint coat of dust from being completely undisturbed. Obviously, the cleaning staff hadn’t been here ‒ maybe since the day my family got stuck in the basement.

  I took to the curved staircase to head upstairs, and surprise rose my brows from all the open doors. Peeking into the nearest room, my mouth dried at the mess left behind. Cori’s love for exotic, designer clothes was strewn all over the floor, a broken necklace dangling over the foot of her bed on rumpled, soft pink sheets. Wandering deeper into the room, I knelt down to pick up the gems left behind.

  “Someone had a good time,” a voice spoke.

  Jumping at the overly loud observation, I almost tripped over my own feet as I whipped around. My heart jumped into my throat, and my lungs stuttered underneath my palm.

  The young, handsome man leaning on the bathroom door frame arched a brow quizzically at me.

  I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning.

  He broke the silence again, “Let’s get to it, shall we? The cleaning ladies obviously cleaned out a lot more than just dust. No point in dwelling on it. It’s not like your family needs their Louboutin anymore.”

  “Who are you?” I tensed at the glint in his eye.

  Brown, styled hair swished as he pushed himself off the doorframe. “Name’s Lyov. I’ll be handling you for the time being.” Scorching eyes scanned me from top to bottom, and Lyov smirked. “You’re prettier than I imagined.”

  My skin crawled in disgust. “Great, you’re more useless than I imagined.” My lip curled ugly, my eyes narrowing on Lyov’s stiffening form.

  His face closed like a heavy book.

  I exhaled the stale air trapped in my lungs. Thankfully, I’d worn looser jeans and a thicker shirt, knowing I was going to be hunched over all day. “Don’t think you can pull the daddy card with me. I’m beyond caring about you Makovich’s and your power trip bullshit. If you touch me at all, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “You’re threatening me?”

  The incredulous lilt in Lyov’s tone told me I was right to threaten him. Boys like him….were slackers. The world was against them for any and all reason. I’d heard enough rumors about him to know not to give him an inch of slack.

  Advancing on me as a cocky, irritated smirk stretched his lips, he reached to touch my hair only to stop short. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to threaten the person that holds your life in his hands?”

  My eyelid twitched, gaze never wavering, and my knuckles tingled wildly. “Is your name ‘Aleksander’?”

  Lyov went red faced at my mocking, eyes flashing brightly.

  I turned my back on him to stalk out of my sister’s room. “Don’t overstep. Your last name may mean something, but you’re a useless piece of shit by yourself. This is my house now, and you answer to a higher power, which means you have none.” I surprised myself with my own words and actions, and I could feel it radiating from Lyov against my straight back. This is the only way to deal with a man like this. No matter how ugly I felt, I couldn’t lose control in front of anyone—especially someone like Lyov.

  This kind of man… the kind who thought he was more important than he was. The one who thinks everyone owed him. The stereotypical rich kid, with his fabricated rich kid problems and lording attitude.

  My blood boiled just thinking of spending the rest of the day having to deal with his incompetent ass. Shouldering open my father’s office door, I huffed loudly as I stalked to his desk. His computer was cold, a thin layer of dust on the screen. Everything and I mean everything was dusty. I pulled my hair back into a bun to drop into the chair. I swished side to side as I turned on the station.

  Lyov shuffled into the room a few seconds later. Shoulders curled,
hands shoved in his pockets, he was obviously upset…

  Which was good…fuck him and his lofty attitude. There was nothing I hated more than people thinking they were better than anyone else just for being born. I really need to calm down… Jesus Christ. Closing my eyes tightly, I took a few, deep, stabilizing breaths. Twisting all the way around, I hoisted myself up to open the windows. The warm air of mid-Spring blasted through the office, and I braced my palms on the sill to savor the sensation. My irritation over the past 40 seconds flittered away on the breeze, coaxing a sigh from low in my chest. “I hope Sascha is having a better morning than I am,” mumbling softly, I ducked my head and rolled my shoulders free of the tension that gripped them.

  This was only just beginning; I’d have to go through every single scrap of anything I could find. I’d have to get creative in the places I would need to search. Someone would have to come by and clear out everything in this house. If I was lucky, I could tear it down and sell the land by itself. After all, no one would want to buy such a gaudy, ugly house.

  The computer’s bootup sound ended my moment of organization, and I lifted my head to take a huge breath. If I could just get through the next few days, everything would be fine. Depending on what I found out about my parents and the other families, I might even live a relatively stable life as compared to before.

  As long as I was thorough and honest, Aleksander would have no reason to keep his nose against my armpit. As long as I did just a little better than I was expected to, I would stay alive. And I would be useful, no matter how terrible it sounded, I wasn’t going to marry anyone. If whatever I found today impacted my future with him, that was a problem for the future.