by K. J. Dahlen
BOOK SIX
BRATVA BLOOD BROTHERS SERIES
K.J. Dahlen
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses and incidents are from the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks or pictures used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
K.J. Dalen
Brothers United
Book Six: Bratva Blood Brothers Series
Copyright © Butterfly Publishings, 2018
Editor: Leanore Elliott
Book Design & Formatting: Wicked Muse
Cover Art Provided By: Book Cover Love
Published by Butterfly Publishings
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PREQUEL TO THE SERIES FOR THOSE THAT MAY NOT HAVE READ IT.
Blood Brothers
Prequel
For The
Bratva Blood Brothers Series
K. J. Dahlen
Chapter One
Moscow 1989
The brutal winter weather shut down most of the city that year. You couldn’t stay out in the wind too long or risk freezing to death. For the homeless, it was merciless. The police continued to roust them out of places that were dangerous or for fire dangers but the people needed to stay out of the cold. The police were known for causing more trouble than they needed to, but everyone had to do something. Street people moved on and then later sneaked back to occupy the same places the police had chased them out of—sad but a game of survival everyone knew and played.
The buildings looked gray, glinting in the low light. The streets were full of snow. Thick, long icicles looking like clear but deadly sabers hung from the steel roofs like specters taunting anyone out in this deep freeze to learn what Russia is known for. Cold, bitter, cruel chilling cold. The sky looked beak and clouds swirled threatening to rain down even more frigid ice.
When Roman stumbled into the warehouse close to the river, he was almost frozen. His fingers were so cold…he couldn’t feel them anymore. All he had with him was a small bag. Inside that small bag were all the possessions he had left in the world. It wasn’t much but he could call them his own.
Not knowing who else was using the warehouse as a way to stay out of the cold, he made sure to be careful as he made his way through the old building. Being in this part of the city was dangerous at the best of times. Youth gangs ran the streets here, in league with adult pimps, whores and Bratva bullies. All people he was better off avoiding. Between that and staying off the police radar, was his aim.
Roman went out of his way to avoid the youth gangs. He didn’t want to get involved with them. They had nothing he wanted. He didn’t need anyone telling him what to do or forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do in the first damn place. Being only twelve didn’t help either but he’d learned over the years since his mother and younger brother disappeared to only depend on himself. The one time he got mixed up with someone almost cost him more than he’d been willing to pay.
As he moved through the building, he thought he heard voices. Slipping up to the broken wall, he listened carefully. To his ear, he heard four separate voices. The voices sounded young but he couldn’t be sure until he looked. Peeking around the corner, he saw four other kids like himself sitting there. They had a small fire going and the fire looked warm. Roman needed the warmth more than he needed to be antisocial. He stumbled out from his hiding spot.
The other boys turned to stare at him.
The oldest looking one seemed to be about his age or maybe just a bit older. All four glared at him with distrust in their eyes.
Roman glared back then he asked, “Can I share your fire? I’m so cold.”
The oldest looked at the others and at their agreement, he motioned for Roman to join them.
“Spasibo,” Roman thanked them as he stumbled forward then fell to his knees. Holding out his hands, he warmed them slowly. Knowing from experience that he had to warm up slowly, he looked around the small group.
“Kak tebja zovut?” The oldest one of them asked his name.
“My name is Roman,” he offered.
“I’m Yuri, this is Barshan, Sazon and Mikial.”
“So how long have you been living on the streets?” The boy named Sazon asked. He looked maybe only a year or so younger than Roman.
Roman shrugged. “Longer than I ever wanted to.”
“Are you alone or part of a gang?” Yuri asked taking a protective stance. “We don’t want any gangs here. They can’t be trusted.”
Roman scoffed. “Nyet. Anyone who trusts a gang member is an idiot. They’d just as soon kill you as look at you. I don’t belong to any gang.”
Yuri nodded then sat down still watching Roman. “Da. We’ve had some problems with thieves lately. They like to come in here and just help themselves to whatever they can steal.”
“There’s nothing worse than a thief,” Roman agreed. “I don’t have much but it’s mine, not theirs.”
“We feel the same.” Barshan nodded. “We don’t have much either, but we plan on keeping what we do have.”
Yuri shrugged. “We also share what we have with each other.”
Roman nodded. Then reached inside his bag and brought out what little food he managed to scrounge up today. A loaf of bread and a bit of meat and cheese. He offered it to Yuri.
Yuri placed it with the little food they had. He looked at small amount of food they had then he looked at Roman. “I don’t suppose you cook?”
Roman rolled his eyes. “I can cook a little bit. It isn’t easy to find a place to cook. Not many working stoves in places like this.” He motioned around the warehouse.
“I really miss soup,” Sazon mentioned. “A good hot filling soup.”
Roman shrugged. “Soup is easy enough. If I can scrounge up what I need- soup would be good enough.”
“Damn, I wish we had some good strong tea.” Mikial swore. “I miss that. I can’t drink that coffee crap we found last week. It’s not even the good stuff.”
Roman stared at all of them for a minute then made up his mind. Reaching back into his bag, he brought out a small tin of tea leaves. He passed it over to Yuri and looked back at the flames.
Mikial whooped and went to find some water. Grabbing the pot, he dumped out the weak coffee and disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned, he put the water on to heat.
Yuri grinned and passed him the small tin.
Mikial opened it carefully and then took a deep sniff of the tea inside. He groaned. “Da! This is the good stuff.”
Yuri glanced quickly at Roman and tightened his lips but didn’t say anything.
Roman rolled his eyes again. Still looking into the flames he said, “Nyet. I didn’t steal it. I did some odd jobs for a man I know and he gave me the tea and some food. I told you, I hate thieves. I’m not afraid to work, same as I’m not afraid to fight to keep what little I have.”
Yuri nodded. Looking at the other three boys sitting there he suggested, “Maybe you’d like to join us. Alone we are weak and easy prey but together, we can be a force to be reckoned with.”
Roman thought for a moment before he nodded. “Da, I could do that.”
As the warehouse grew darker with the night settling over the city, the five boys settled in for some sleep. The city quieted for the night and
the boys fell asleep.
It was hours later when a noise woke Roman. He laid there unmoving and listened for a long time. Everything was quiet for the most part but then he heard the noise again that had woke him up. It wasn’t much of a sound but it was enough to alert his subconscious. He turned his head slowly and looked at Yuri.
Yuri was sleeping but when Roman reached out to touch his arm, he came awake instantly. He stared at Roman.
Touching his lips with his finger in a hushing moment, Roman motioned his head toward where the sound came from.
Yuri seemed to listen carefully. When he heard the same noise that woke Roman, he nodded. Yuri motioned for Roman to go one way while he went the other. The noise they both heard was footsteps coming toward them. Roman slipped away from his spot and disappeared into the darkness. Yuri did the same and from the shadows, they both saw three other boys trying to sneak up on them.
One of the boys crouched near their food stuffs and began shoving the bits and pieces into his own pocket. Another of the boys began ransacking the bags sitting there.
Roman squatted down and picked up a piece of wood off the floor. Then he looked around the room and saw Yuri standing behind the other boys. When he saw him nod, he let loose a growl and stepped into the dim light. “Stoj!” he told them to stop. “Put everything back just the way you found it,” he ordered as he stood facing the three thieves.
The oldest turned to face him. He was a little bigger than the other two but they stood and faced him as well. “Or what?” the older one taunted. “We number three and you’re one person, what are you going to do?”
The leader laughed and retorted, “Prostite!” He quipped sarcastically. “I am so sorry!”
His friends snickered.
“Da, what are you gonna do that hasn’t been done to us already?” one of the others sneered.
“At least I’m not a thief.” Roman boasted as he moved into position. Hefting the piece of wood in his hands, he made himself ready to use it. He took note of the leaders’ vacant eyes and shaky hands. He’d seen that look before. This guy was tripping and he would come crashing down in a short amount of time. “And I’m not the one stealing trinkets to score another hit.”
“Yebat' tebya…Fuck you.” The leader growled. Then he rushed toward him.
Roman lifted the wood and slammed it down into his belly.
The kid gasped and fell to his knees as he struggled to draw air into his lungs.
The other two tried to rush him but Yuri jerked one of them back by the collar of his jacket. He yelped and crashed down to the floor. The other kid headed to Roman and fists flew but Roman defended himself.
The kid swung and did get a punch or two in but soon was down on the dirty floor beside the leader of the group.
Yuri had gotten in a few good hits, but it seemed that the one he was battling was a better thief than he was a fighter.
All three were groaning and down on the floor.
Roman squatted beside the leader and began going through his pockets. He took only what belonged to him and the other boys. He’d seen what the thief had taken. The rest he left alone.
The leader looked at him in question, “What? You’re not going to take it all?”
“Nyet!” he spat. “I’m not the thief here, you are. I’m just taking back what’s ours. Nothing more, nothing less.”
The boy reached out and held Roman’s wrist. Roman glared at the dirty hand holding him then raised his eyes and stared it out. After a few minutes, the other boy dropped his gaze and his wrist.
Then he went over to the one who pocketed their food and began putting it back. Yuri got all three to their feet and with Roman’s help, they walked them to the door.
By this time, the others were awake watching Yuri and Roman protect what was theirs.
Sazon ran ahead and opened the door for them. Yuri threw the first kid out, then they both threw the others out. “Ostav'te menja v pokoe! Don’t come back here. This is our piece of ground.”
All three got to their feet and ran off into the night. Only moments later, the iced mist shadows swallowed them whole.
Roman moved back into the warehouse.
Sazon slammed the door shut.
Then the other four turned to look at Roman.
Yuri was the first to hold his hand out. “Požalujsta,” he thanked him. When Roman shook his hand, Yuri asked him one question, “Why did you do that?”
Roman shrugged. “They had no business sneaking in here to take our stuff.” Then he looked around at the other four. “But I don’t think this place is safe anymore.”
“Why is that?” Barshan asked. “Do you think those guys will be coming back?”
Roman shrugged. “Ja ne znaju. I don’t know if it will be them or others but the leader belonged to one of the street gangs. I saw the mark on his hand. A Nozh v krov. Like a silver knife dripping in blood. They aren’t known to care who crosses them but they like taking revenge at any sign of disrespect, imaginary or not. ”
“Chet!” Yuri swore. “We’ve been doing what we can to avoid them. And they would take this as disrespect.” He glanced at the others and nodded. “Let’s get packed up and find another place to stay. We’ll have to stay low for a few days until this blows over.”
“Where are we going now?” Mikial asked as he packed his few things.
“I might know of a place,” Roman volunteered.
Yuri turned to him and searched his face for a moment. “And where might that be?”
Roman shrugged. “A friend of mine owns a small gym near here. His name is Ivan Russo. The gym has seen better days but Ivan told me once to stop by some times to check on him and make sure the thugs haven’t killed him yet. He might be willing to let us stay with him for a while.”
Yuri thought about it for a moment then gazed around at the others. He looked back to Roman. “Da. Sounds good to us. Maybe we could offer him our protection in return.”
Everyone picked up what little things they called their own and disappeared into the cold, dark shadows.
Chapter Two
Moscow- 1993
When a black sedan pulled up outside the gym, Roman whistled a warning to the others. They’d been waiting for this day for a while now. It had been four long years since they came here, four long years they’d fought off the street gangs, protecting Ivan and his little piece of heaven they found.
Ivan had taken them in that first night. He’d given them a place to stay and everyone pitched in to make the old gym a decent place to live. Ivan had taught the boys so much over the last four years and they had soaked up his words and actions. He’d taught them to fight. To defend themselves with skill. He’d said, “Da, you will all be men…” As he looked around at them and smirked. “Bol'shoy chelovek.” He laughed. “Big men too. But you need skills. I know you can fight, but you need to be the better fighter than the one trying to beat the snot out of you and I will teach you how.”
Then one night, Ivan made a simple mistake. He forgot to lock the back door and the street gang got inside. The boys had been out to get food. They’d told him so many times to keep that door locked. They destroyed Ivan’s dream, his home and they’d taken his life.
Roman and Yuri found the old man on the floor broken and bleeding. He told them who beat him then he told them to grow up to be good men. He died in Roman’s arms a few minutes later. With the old man’s last breath, a rage grew inside Roman. Ivan was just an old timer who never bothered anyone. He’d taken the boys up on their offer of protection and in return, he brought them into his home and taught them everything he knew. The arrangement worked well for all of them.
As they all five stood around his poor beaten body….None cried. They’d all learned a long time ago to never shed a tear. They needed to be men not boys at a very early age. Their eyes glittered though. Pain showed on all their faces. Rage in their eyes and misery in their young hearts.
Yuri let out a furious yell. He leaned his head back an
d clenched his fists.
Roman held his body still. How could someone kill the man? He was all the family they had. He dropped to his knees and took the old man’s hand into his. He vowed this would not go unpunished.
“Nyet. Nyet!” Mikial shook his head as if he couldn’t accept it. He looked white as a sheet as he too, knelt by Ivan.
Sazon paced back and forth, his fists clenched. Unshed tears showed in his eyes.
Barshan was so quiet. He looked like he too, wanted to kill someone.
The boys had learned how to be a family of sorts and Ivan wasn’t just a lonely old man anymore. Then about three weeks ago, the gang moved in and threatened their home. The leader, Igor Gustave stormed into the gym with two other bigger men and demanded to know where the boys were that lived there.
Ivan told him nothing just asked that he leave. Igor laughed in his face and told the old man he would determine when he would leave and that wouldn’t be until he got his pound of flesh. He told Ivan that one of his boys was in deep shit and he wanted his blood. It seemed that Sazon got away from a beating, the Silver Fish thought he should take.
Igor never said what the beating was for but if he didn’t produce Sazon, he would take his blood off the old man.
Roman and the others were waiting in the shadows, hoping Ivan wouldn’t be hurt. Yuri went around to the front door and turned the locks.
Over the last four years with a warm place to sleep and plenty of food in their bellies, the five boys had grown into fine young men. Under Ivan’s tutelage, they had become good fighters and defenders.
The five of them came out of the shadows and circled the three men. Taking a protective stance against the bullies wasn’t that hard, especially when they were defending Ivan.
“Nyet, we don’t like bullies,” Sazon told them. “I’m the one you’re looking for but I’m not willing to take the beating you expect me too. Nor am I afraid of you.”