Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Aleksander doesn’t have armed security enter my home. Guns have never been allowed inside. This has been the rule since my house was built. Of course, I don’t check extensively to make sure Aleksander abides my rules, but he does come in with empty holsters.” Ophelia simply stared at me with wise, determined eyes. “Aleksander may seem smarter than me because of his willingness to use means I won’t, but I have always played the long game. Aleksander doesn’t even understand a lot of what he’s trying to accomplish.”

  “You’ve been planning to take him down since he killed your family years ago?” I stated. “You have the patience of a saint, Ophelia.” I stood up to roll my shoulders as anxiety began to thread my veins. “I’m going to spend some time alone. After all, Aleksander is still my brother.”

  4

  Yelene

  Slipping onto the enclosed porch, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest as the cold nipped at my ears and nose. The frigidness of winter seeped through the walls as I walked over to the windows. Snow fell in thick sheets, the sky hung heavy and dark. I saw no sun struggling through the black clouds. I sat down on the sofa to flop down onto my side.

  The world was cast in thick, dark shades of grey, as I closed my eyes to exhale a sigh and sink into the couch.

  “I wish this wasn’t happening.” My mumble echoed and reflected off the glass and cold atmosphere. Nothing was easy. Nothing was good. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was—nothing. I had nothing. I was nothing.

  The only reason I was still alive was because Ophelia took pity on me and invited me to her home. For over a year, I’d lived here, but it wasn’t my home. I owed Ophelia everything for her graciousness and sympathy.

  “In a week, everything will be different—hopefully.” When Aleksander was shoved unceremoniously out of the way, I could be with my parents. I could get my marriage to Igra annulled. I could stop looking over my shoulder and start building my life. My heart ached at the simple notion of it, and I clutched my chest weakly.

  Reaching to cover my face, I bit back a groan of foreboding. How was I supposed to know what was important to eavesdrop on and what could be ignored? Who was I supposed to listen in on? When was any of that even going to happen?

  So many questions and no answers. Or, did I just not want to know the answers? That’s dumb. Of course, I don’t want to know the answers.

  I hadn’t seen Igra for two days, since his conversation with Ophelia in the kitchen. Ophelia had been cooped up in her office. Sascha was at work. In a way, it was the same as it had been the whole year, but somehow, today felt more stagnant and unnerving. The snow was thick and hadn’t stopped all morning while time moved so slowly.

  A soft creak blared over my thoughts like a siren, I cracked open my eyes to stare blearily at the window. Lifting my head up, I pushed myself onto my arms as a shadow cast over me.

  “Don’t get up.” Igra gingerly pushed down on my crown.

  I didn’t have the strength to resist. It just seemed like that kind of day— heavy, sluggish, and slow. Bleak, almost.

  Sitting down next to me, Igra shuffled closer to rest my head in his lap. “I enjoy days like this when it’s quiet and peaceful.”

  I hummed softly as I pulled my knees up. “It’s dreary, dank and cold.”

  My mumble earned me a hum in acknowledgment and Igra started running his fingers through my hair soothingly.

  He had big, warm fingers, and I closed my eyes to savor the sensation. “You have nice hands.”

  “You have nice hair. It’s thick but smooth and doesn’t get caught.”

  His warmth radiated from him to pinken my cheeks and I inhaled deeply to sigh in bliss. The slight tug on my hair tingled my scalp, and I held my knees under my arm.

  Igra chuckled softly. “There’s only so much we can do during the winter. I’m sure it’s stifling. When I was in America, I heard this term—snow birds. It means elderly people that move south for the winter to warmer weather, like birds. I thought it was funny when I first heard it.”

  “Snow bird…why not just live somewhere warm in the first place?” Igra didn’t answer me, and I didn’t really expect one. “I like the cold, but not this cold.”

  “Are you afraid Aleksander will be here?”

  I cracked open my eyes at this.

  He gazed down at me earnestly. “He doesn’t know I’m here, but you don’t have that option to hide. Are you worried about what he might do? Ophelia says he agreed because she wanted to talk to him about the America plan. With Rosetta in America, he might find out I’m no longer there.”

  “You think it’ll be difficult to kill him?” My mouth dried at my own question, “What if they kill you after?”

  Igra’s jaw worked as he brushed my hair from my forehead. “My brother will be hard to kill. I doubt it’ll be as simple as shooting him in the head. That being said, I have beat Aleksander in fights before. As for what comes after, it’s hard to say, Yelene. Killing my brother may not be enough. He has many loyal followers, some of which are family, but most of which aren’t. Anatoly has no love for Aleksander, but he does enjoy extensive freedoms of which your parents are probably quite familiar with by now—fixing the broken women he throws out like shit out the window.” His tone tightened and deepened as he frowned. “I can’t wrangle in the Families or my own, so what happens afterwards is…a foreboding mystery.”

  My eyes widened. “I’m more afraid of before and after.”

  My confession earned me quizzical look.

  I lifted my head.

  No matter Igra’s turmoil over what he was going to do, he looked calm and even relaxed. Under my palm, his leg was muscular but not tight, and I lifted myself up to get close to his face. His cheek twitched, his prickly beginnings of a beard tickling my face if I moved just a hair closer.

  Warmth billowed up my neck as his eyes bored deep into mine, and my heart pounded against my ribs.

  My brother will be hard to kill.

  “I’ve been in this sham of a marriage since I was sixteen. Five years—and no man has ever touched me.” I shuffled to straddle Igra’s lap.

  His eyes widened and he stiffened his breath hitching as he cocked his head back.

  “I’m afraid letting Aleksander win,” I whispered. “Even—even when he’s dead—I don’t want him to win. I don’t want to let him dictate how I live. I don’t want him to reach his shit-stained fingers beyond his grave to hurt you. Even if he’s dead, he’s still dangerous.”

  “Why haven’t you?’ Igra asked. “Surely, Aleksander isn’t keeping that close an eye on you.”

  I sat back on his knees, covering my mouth to hide my twisted, ugly smile.

  Igra frowned under brows furrowed with confusion. “You’ve never so much as been on a date?”

  “I used to want it—to defy him, to spite him—to feel the illusion of freedom just for a few minutes. But that want made me sick, so I had to let it go. I hated myself for being forced into this situation, and I’ve always hated Aleksander, but that bitterness started eating away at me. It’s just a piece of paper, but life is dictated on paper. The more I wanted my own life, the more I realized—I wanted it for the wrong reason.” Reaching to press my palm flat against his chest, I licked my lips nervously as his muscles roiled under his taut skin. “It wouldn’t be worth it then. I would just feel worse. It took me a long time to come to that conclusion.”

  “You’re worth it to someone, Yelene.”

  My lips twitched up in a faint smile, and I leaned against Igra simply to feel his heartbeat against my cheek. Once again, he started running his hand through my hair, and I closed my eyes. It felt good—to be held by a man.

  5

  Igra

  Cracking my neck, I held myself still as I stretched my arms above my head and arched languidly. Yelene curled up on me, and I hadn’t meant to fall asleep on this tiny sofa when I laid down. She didn’t budge as I felt my sternum pop, and I settled back down with a heavy sigh through my nose.


  “I’m glad I found you, Igra.”

  Glancing up, I frowned at Sascha.

  He loomed over the top of the sofa and rested on his forearms against the back. He smiled gently as he reached down to push a stray lock of hair from her face. “She’s not a frightened, little thing, at least.”

  Gazing down at Yelene, I couldn’t help my lips quirking up at how peaceful her expression was. “Caution and self-preservation do not equate to fear or cowardice. It’s not something many people understand. It takes more to overcome an obstacle than simply bulldoze over it.” Despite all the pressure and uncertainty, she wasn’t a blubbering, sobbing mess. Her resolve was to be admired, not doubted. “So, what can I do for you, Sascha?”

  “It’s unimportant considering the circumstances.” Casting a pointed look at Yelene, Sascha reached to scratch his thick, salt-and-peppered beard. “I’m going to go spend some time with my wife as well. I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

  “She’s not…” My mouth dried before I could finish.

  Sascha waved his hand as he straightened to wander out of the sunroom.

  I suppose she really is my wife—on paper. What a strange notion to be married to someone who is a stranger. I hadn’t thought of Yelene or our forced marriage too much, and shame clawed at the back of my throat. Memories bubbled up from the depths of my mind of that dark time in my life when Aleksander had decided to clamp down on everyone around him.

  My elder brother had just gotten engaged to his long-term girlfriend, Envre. She was okay, and I had no real opinion of her, but she was also extremely loyal to Aleksander and very smart. When Ophelia’s parents were murdered ‒ ahem, rightly so. Who misses shooting my dad? ‒ Envre was the one to suggest how they did it. I had a nagging feeling she pushed him to demand the loyalty of his family. ‘Conniving’ would be a good word to describe her.

  But how does forcing me to marry someone become a test of loyalty? Aleksander wanted to know if he could make me do it— simple. He wanted to demand of me the utmost personal decision I could make and steal it. At least he was kind enough to give me a list to choose from.

  My gaze trailed down to Yelene, with her birdlike features and wild, brown hair. I had a name and a picture, but nothing else, and I reached down to gingerly drag my thumb down her nose. I’d thought she was cute, young, and didn’t deserve to be exposed to the horrors of this life. “It seems I was semi-successful.” I smiled lightly as I took in Yelene’s peaceful expression. “It’s amazing what we convince ourselves of.”

  She inhaled a little hiccup of a breath.

  I palmed her cheek hoping to keep her asleep. The sun had broken through the clouds, streaming into the sunroom to glisten off her hair as it fell over the front of the sofa. Snuggling against my chest, Yelene’s warmth seeped into my bones, and I liked it. I liked that she, who had no reason to, trusted me to save her from this Hell that she couldn’t save herself from. Nothing wrong with being less powerful than others were, but that didn’t mean she was helpless.

  “Hmm….” She hummed.

  Glancing down, I stroked Yelene’s cheek as she lifted her head to me to blink blearily. My chest tightened at the sluggish, almost lazy look on her face, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if, we weren’t going to risk everything. As if we actually knew each other beyond three conversations. “Did you sleep well?”

  Rolling onto her front, Yelene smiled graciously at me.

  I peeled the hair back sticking to her cheek. “It’s almost dinner time.”

  “I’m hungry, yeah. I like cooking. I don’t feel comfortable with asking Ophelia, but sometimes I wish I had my own place.” She sat up to straddle my waist, and my abdomen tightened as she fixed her shirt against her petite bust.

  Reaching to hold her sides, I caught Yelene’s eyes as gentle alarm flashed in them. “I want you to make me something. I’ll ask Ophelia, and we can make something delicious the night before Aleksander’s visit.”

  Her deep, brown orbs wounded in surprise at my mumble.

  I couldn’t help but smile wider when her lips parted. “I want to taste something you’ve made.”

  “O-okay…” Blushing slightly, Yelene slid off me onto long, thin legs, “What do you want me to make?”

  I sat up to inhale deeply and swipe my hands up my face and over my head. “Whatever you love making the most.”

  Her blush darkened as she nodded.

  I threw my legs over the side of the sofa. Watching her round the sofa, my eyes narrowed as I scanned her slim legs and gentle curves. When she left the room, closing the door behind her, I blustered a huge sigh and rubbed my chest. Where her cheek had been, my skin tingled, and my heart beat steady as I sat back. “My very own Last Supper…”

  The room was colder now, without Yelene, and I frowned at the ceiling as I took a deep, frigid breath. I suddenly hoped she was a good cook because liking something didn’t equate to succeeding at it. Well what could be better the night before facing fate than a good meal?

  In situations like mine, I couldn’t be too confident. I knew from experience. Ophelia may not allow guns in her home, but that didn’t mean Aleksander wouldn’t have one on him. The man was a very competent fist fighter, too. I was better, had more stamina, and history had shown again and again, that my brother couldn’t beat me in a fight.

  But we’d never fought for our lives before. Close, but never quite that desperate.

  I suppose we’ll see what happens when it happens. I stood up with a shake of my head. What a shame that things had become so bad. “If only Aleksander had stopped before he became delusional.”

  I worried about the mess my brother was embroiled in, but I was much more concerned about the people he’d drag down with him. Aleksander, Envre, Anatoly—my mother would be devastated. Her children killing each other over power— that was what this boiled down to. Surely, I wouldn’t be replacing Aleksander on the throne, but I knew she’d be upset with me.

  One of Aleksander’s home guards was supposedly going to take care of Envre, but Anatoly was a different matter. For hours and hours, I’d agonized over what might happen with my third youngest brother.

  Standing up on stiff legs, I stretched my arms over my head and arched with a groan to shake my head furiously. There was no point in working myself up over things that hadn’t happened, yet. All of my thoughts were based on the assumption I could kill my brother, anyway.

  “Waiting is the worst part. Yelene is right.” This dreary day was dark and lifeless. I glanced out the windows at the sheets of snow blocking out the sun. Glancing down at my watch, I held back a sigh as I left the sunroom. I felt sure in the summer, this was a beautiful room, positioned to look over the garden and oasis. But in this moment, it was all hiding behind a curtain of white.

  Ophelia had rebuilt her home after her parents’ death, exactly how she wanted it, and I wondered what that felt like. Wandering down the hall, I ran my hand through my hair roughly on my way to the kitchen. Turning to head up the stairs quietly, I paused at the top as Yelene caught my eye.

  Soft lines almost blended into the gloom, as he bright, brown eyes met mine from her spot leaning against the wall. Her chest puffed out under her clenched hand, and anxiety sparkled in her gaze— the truth couldn’t hide in those crystal clear depths.

  My heart ached for her and all she’d gone through; how much time did she spend convincing herself that she was suffering for her parents’ safety?

  I let out a huge sigh…it was all for nothing, in the end. After all—Aleksander had killed Yelene’s parents years ago.

  6

  Yelene

  “How are you doing, Yelene?”

  My head snapped up at the gentle probe.

  Ophelia smiled welcomingly as she wandered into my bedroom. Borrowed bedroom. “You and Igra have been spending a bit of time together. I told you you’d like each other.”

  “He’s very—warm….” Caution slowed my voice.

  She didn’t
seem to care either way as she sat at the foot of my bed regally. Ophelia was like a queen, the Czarina of her own domain that stretched from here to the German border and up to the ocean.

  Straightening a little, I closed my book and scooted down the mattress to sit beside her. “What is it?”

  “Do you know who Erik Avernisk is?”

  My brows twitched in interest at this question.

  Ophelia leaned back on her hands to blow a heavy sigh from her nose. “He’ll be here with Aleksander next week. I always had a feeling those two were working together somehow. Erik was Aleksander’s first choice to go to America before he decided to send his sister instead.”

  “Why are you telling me? I’ve never met him personally.” Actually, I’d made it a point to stay out of Avernisk’s way.

  Ophelia flopped her head back to glance at me warily.

  Alarm bells rang between my ears as I pursed my lips and twiddled my thumbs in my lap.

  “Because I have a sneaking suspicion that we’re going to have to kill him, too, along with Aleksander, and I need you to distract him. Our original plan to wait and listen is gone, Yelene. I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I regret having to ask you, but everyone has a part to play if this is going to be successful.” Ophelia scrunched up her nose in distaste. Her tone soured, and she reached to cup my cheek as the blood drained from my face. “I don’t have time to find someone else.”

  My eyes widened and I tensed. “Oh…” Distract him—“D-do you mean—to distract him, like…?”

  Instantly, Ophelia shook her head, her hand flexing against my cheek.