The Bratva’s Stolen Bride

by Cole, Jagger

  I know he’s not dead. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. For some fucked up reason, I believe I’d feel it somehow if he were. I want to roll my eyes at myself for even thinking hocus-pocus crap like that. But it’s what I feel.

  I close my eyes against the darkness. I try not to remember the God knows how many other men back at the cabin that he was fighting. I tremble, but I hold fast.

  He’s not dead. I know he’s not dead. Because he can’t be.

  The lights suddenly click on. I wince even with my eyes closed at the sudden glare. When I slowly open them, I tremble when I realize how big of a space I’ve been sitting in—this huge open warehouse loading area.

  “You have any fucking idea how much you cost me, little bitch?”

  I gasp at the sudden, heavily Russian-accented words hit me from behind. I try and turn, but I can’t see with my hair in my eyes. And my hands are tied to the side of the chair.

  I hear footsteps approaching, and I shiver in fear. They get closer and closer, until suddenly, a burly man steps into view. I look up at him and tense. He’s terrifying looking. Big, brawny, and with a scar across his face. The look in his eyes is cruel, and his smile is pure evil.

  “I had a lot riding on that merger, cunt” he hisses.

  I swallow. “I—”

  “I know you were taken,” he sneers. “But I know you weren’t kidnapped.”

  I purse my lips.

  “My men, they found you naked in his bed, da?” When I don’t answer, he wheezes a laugh. “Not kidnapped, I think. I think maybe you liked being with him.”

  I glare at him.

  “So, you’re his little whore now, hmm?”

  My eyes narrow. “Fuck you.”

  He laughs. “Not after my son has.”

  I freeze in horror. My eyes widen as I look up at him. “You…”

  “Ahh, so he’s cried about me to you already?” He clicks his teeth.

  “You… you’re—”

  “Fyodor,” he grunts. “Da”

  He pulls a pack of cigarette with Cyrillic letting on them out and slips one between his lips. Knowing who he is now, my eyes harden as they focus on the end of that cigarette. It’s the same size as the scars on Lev’s arm. Fyodor lights the cigarette and exhales slowly.

  “You don’t have a son,” I hiss quietly.

  He chuckles. “Don’t I?”

  “Not after what you did.”

  He wheezes another laugh. “What did I do? Kicked him out of the nest?” He scoffs. “I made a man of him.”

  “You abandoned an eleven-year-old to the streets!”

  He shrugs. “I toughened him up. I made him strong.” He frowns. “Maybe too strong, I don’t know.”

  A garage door along the wall rumbles to life and starts to roll open. A sleek black Bentley drives in and comes to a stop. The door opens, and I balk when I see Chet Brubaker come stumbling out of it. His father, Marvin, follows, looking furious as he shoves his son towards us.

  “I—dad! I don’t want to do—”

  “We’re past that,” Marvin hisses. He looks nervously at Fyodor.

  “Dad—”

  “Just do this, please, Chet,” the older Brubaker grunts.

  “Dad—”

  “I’ve bailed your dumb ass out a hundred times, Chet! It’s time to do something for the family in return!”

  The other door to the Bentley opens. And suddenly, my father steps out. When he sees me, his face pales. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t seem outraged that his daughter is tied to a chair with a Russian mobster looming over her.

  I glare at him with hatred him my eyes. He just swallows and avoids my gaze. He clears his throat. “Zoey, honey—”

  “Fuck you.”

  He purses his lips. “You think the life you lead comes free, Zoey?” He glares at me. “All the credit cards, the clothes, the schooling? That brownstone?” He snorts. “We all do things we don’t want to do.”

  “I’m your daughter!” I scream at him. “And you’re seriously just going to stand there while—”

  “You’re not, actually.”

  I frown, blinking. “What?”

  My father sighs deeply and looks down. “You are not my daughter.”

  I sneer at him. “Really? You’re going to dig into that shit now?!”

  He says nothing.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard the story. You and mom took a break when you were having problems, then you got back together and had—”

  “I’m incapable of having children, Zoey.”

  His mouth thins. His eyes are unblinking. And suddenly, I realize he’s serious. My mouth dries as I stare at him. “I…”

  “I haven’t ever been able to. That’s been verified by several top doctors. I said nothing when your mother came home and then suddenly ‘got’ pregnant when we reconciled.”

  “Why?!”

  “Because I loved her,” he snaps. “Always. I let her bring the lie into our lives, because I loved her.”

  Tears start to bead in my eyes.

  “Who—” I choke.

  He looks away. “His name is—was—Daniel Ritter. I had the paternity test done when you were five. He passed away a few years go, but he ran a hedge fund too. He was a competitor—”

  “You knew who he was?” I whisper.

  He looks down.

  “You knew he was my father since I was fucking five,” I croak. “And you didn’t tell me!?”

  “I raised you, Zoey. I paid for everything, and I lived the lie—”

  “And yet here you are allowing this to happen!” I scream.

  His face hardens. “Business is a cruel mistress, Zoey. This was the deal, and I agreed. Had you been my flesh and blood—”

  “Oh my God,” I balk. I want to throw up. “This is fucking insane.”

  He looks away. Fyodor starts to chuckle, and then starts to slow clap.

  “Fuck me,” he wheezes. “This is fantastic! Like American television drama!”

  “Go to fucking hell,” I choke.

  “I can’t,” he shrugs. He grins and leers close to me. He blows cigarette smoke into my face, making me cough. “Because dyavol? The devil?” His lips curl. “He is too pussy to let me in.”

  “What do you want?”

  He stands up and nods at Chet. “To conclude our business.”

  I stare at Marvin. “You can’t seriously still be demanding this, can you?”

  His mouth thins. “An arrangement is an arrangement, my dear. I’m sorry to say. If my idiot son here is to continue our family line, he needs to marry.” He glares at Chet. “Unfortunately, he’s managed to fuck up his reputation so badly that not a single woman the greater Chicago area will give him the time of day unless he drugs them.”

  Bile rises in my throat.

  “So, yes, Zoey,” he snaps. “This is our deal, and I will be seeing it through. Everyone wins here.” He shrugs. “Even you.”

  I laugh coldly.

  “You think I’m bullshitting you? Your father is right. Your lifestyle isn’t free. And what are your marketable skills or job history?” He smirks. “Four years at Northwestern studying… what?”

  I say nothing.

  “Liberal arts?” He chuckles. “Zoey, your marketability is that you are pretty, rich, and spoiled. That’s it. That’s reality.”

  I close my eyes and look down. Martin sighs.

  “Now, can we do this fucking thing?”

  A side door bangs open. A man dressed the same as the men who took me steps in. I tremble when I see the black mask and the dark camouflage. My eyes land on the blood stained on his neck, and I stiffen. It’s one of the two men who carried me out and drove me here in the van.

  He looks at me, stiffening for a second. But then he marches over to Fyodor and reaches for his mask. He yanks it off, and I blink in shock.

  I know him.

  It takes me second, but when I place him, the color drains from my face.

  “Oh my God…”
>
  Nikolai, Lev’s “trusted avtoritet,” turns and gives a pained look. Next to him, Fyodor chuckles.

  “Ah, you have met, yes?” He grins. “Like a fucking soap opera, isn’t it? My son’s man turns out to be my man.” He grins as he throws an arm over Nikolai’s broad shoulders. “This boy, he is a true Russian man. Like a son, he’s been. Better than my real one,” he chuckles.

  Nikolai’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. His face stays neutral.

  “You weasely little fuck!” I scream at him. “He trusted you!! And you fucking sold us out?!”

  Fyodor laughs uproariously. “Uh oh, Nikolai,” he wheezes. “A tigress, you’ve caught!”

  Nikolai smiles thinly. “Better check that those ties are tight enough, eh? Wouldn’t want to get bitten.”

  Fyodor seems to find that absolutely hilarious. He laughs as Nikolai strides over to me. He steps around behind my chair and crouches. I feel him tugging at the plastic biting into my wrists.

  “Nope! They seem tight!”

  Suddenly, I feel something cold and sharp pressing into my hand. I realize it’s a knife of some kind.

  “Don’t say a thing,” Nikolai hisses quietly. “You’ll know when to use this. Please trust me.”

  He yanks on the ties again. “Bitch isn’t going anywhere,” he says loudly as he stands.

  The door bangs open again. Another man dressed like Nikolai who might actually be the other one from the van, comes running in.

  “Boss,” he grunts to Fyodor. The burly Russian frowns and turns to him.

  “Da?”

  “No response,” the man mutters.

  “None of them have checked in yet?!”

  Slowly, I start to feel hope. My heart begins to beat faster. They’re taking about the others from the raid on the cabin.

  Fyodor suddenly pales. “Call reinforcements. Now.”

  The man barks something in Russian. The door opens again, and four men come running out carrying rifles.

  Marvin, Chet, and the man who is not my father, all glance at each other.

  “Is there a problem here, Fyodor?” Marvin grunts.

  “Nyet. Just being cautious.”

  “Cautious of what.”

  “Nothing,” the Russian grunts back. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What are we not worrying about?!” Chet panics.

  Fyodor scowls. “My son.”

  “You killed him!” My—well, Bill Stone—hisses.

  Fyodor says nothing as he takes a gun out of his belt.

  “You sent ten men!”

  “Da, I did.”

  “You said they were ex Russian special forces! That they were your best—”

  “Will someone shut this fucker up!?” Fyodor barks at Bill.

  “Call for more people,” Marvin grunts nervously.

  “I cannot.”

  He glares at Fyodor. “The fuck you can’t. Call Yuri, and get some fucking protection down here—”

  “This is not Volkov business,” Fyodor snaps. Even he’s looking a little pale. “That was clear with our business. Our arrangement is you and me, and this fuck,” he nods at Bill. “Not Bratva.” He swallows. “He will not send anyone. Not for this.”

  “Why the fuck not?!”

  “Because it would start a war,” I hiss.

  Fyodor shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

  “Well, fuck this!” Marvin hisses. He turns to his son. “Get in the fucking car, Chet. We’re leav—”

  Gunfire suddenly erupts outside. Bill shrieks and dives into the Bentley. The driver starts the engine as Marvin and Chet jump in as well. But suddenly, more shots ring out. The chain link holding the garage door open sparks and snaps, and the door comes crashing down before they can leave.

  My pulse races.

  The side door suddenly explodes inward into the warehouse. The four men with guns turn and start firing along with Fyodor. But suddenly something flies into the room and lands at their feet. Two of them lunge away, but I scream when the explosion blows the other two into pieces.

  Suddenly, charging through the swirling smoke and fire with a roar on his lips, is Lev. My heart surges into my throat, and I cry out for him. His eyes find me and burn into mine. But then he turns, snaring as he charges at the two other men with guns.

  Instantly, I go to work. The blade cuts into my fingers, but I ignore the pain and start to saw at the plastic ties. In a second, they snap, and my arms are free. I reach down, using the blade to sever the ties on my ankles before I lunge to my feet.

  Across the room, both of the other two guards drop motionless to the ground. Lev whirls to look at me. I gasp and go to rush to him, when suddenly a beefy, cigarette scented arm wraps around my neck, and I scream.

  “Fyodor!” Lev roars. He snarls like an animal and storms towards us. But suddenly, Fyodor’s gun goes to my temple.

  “Ahhh, well look at us now, eh, mal-chik?” Fyodor grunts.

  “I’m not a little boy anymore, you piece of shit.”

  “No, you are not. But you come any closer, and you will lose another woman from your life. I promise you that.”

  Lev snarls and takes another step.

  “Do what he says, Lev.”

  I glance to my left. Lev does the same, and his face falls.

  “Nikolai…” he grunts. His face turns furious as he shakes his head slowly. “You—”

  “Just let this happen, Lev.”

  “You traitorous fuck!!”

  Fyodor laughs. “Such a man now, eh! You got tough on the streets, mal-chik. Look at what you’ve become, all thanks to me!”

  Lev turns his livid gaze to the older man. “What I am has nothing to do with you.”

  Fyodor grins. “Then you know nothing about genetics, boy. You are me. You came from these fucking balls!” He grunts, reaching down to cup himself.

  Nikolai suddenly turns, his brow furrowing. “What did you just say?”

  The older Russian shrugs. “I said he comes from these yaytsa!” He grins.

  Nikolai’s whole face goes white. “What.”

  Fyodor chuckles. “I have not mentioned that?” He shrugs again. “Da. This ungrateful little bitch is my son.”

  I frown when I see Nikolai physically stagger at Fyodor’s words. He turns to stare at Lev in horror and disbelief.

  “You…”

  He turns back to Fyodor.

  “He’s your son?”

  The Russian frowns. “Are you deaf? Da, my son. Now,” he nods at Lev. “Shoot him.”

  Lev growls as his hand tightens around his own gun. “Let her go, Fyodor.”

  “Nyet. I don’t think I will. Nikolai my boy, shoot him. Now.” Nothing happens, and he frowns and turns to the younger man next to us. “Nikolai! What are you—”

  Nikolai draws his gun. But instantly it’s leveled at Fyodor.

  “What the fuck are you doing?!” He roars. “Him! Him you stupid fucking—”

  “Masha Antonov.”

  Fyodor frowns. “What?”

  “Masha,” Nikolai hisses dangerously. “Antonov.”

  “I don’t know who the fuck that—”

  “She was beautiful. And smart. She wanted to be a doctor. That’s why she was working doubles at the nightclub in Moscow serving drinks.”

  Fyodor frowns. “Put the fucking gun down. I have no fucking idea who—”

  “She’s the cocktail waitress who you forced yourself on, twenty-six years ago. You beat her, assaulted her, and then you left her there.”

  The color starts to drain from Fyodor’s face. “I don’t know what—”

  “Yes, you fucking do!!” Nikolai roars furiously. He steps closer and jabs the gun right into Fyodor’s face. The older man is so shocked by the move that he gasps and steps back. And drops the gun from my head.

  Instantly, Nikolai grabs me and shoves me away towards Lev. I rush towards him, sobbing as I crash into his arms.

  “Lastachka,” he groans, holding me so tight it almost hurts. “
My love,” he whispers as he buries his face in my hair. “My love.”

  “Nikolai, whatever you think—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” the younger man hisses at Fyodor. Lev and I both turn to stare at whatever this is.

  “Nikolai—”

  “I’m sorry, Lev,” Nikolai glances at us. “I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to—” he swallows. “I had to get close to this monster.”

  Lev nods.

  “He—” the younger man shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Lev. I didn’t know he was your father.”

  “Yes, I am your father, Lev!” Fyodor grunts. “You might hate me, but you cannot let some random little fucker just shoot—”

  “Random,” Nikolai laughs coldly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this, and to tell you this right before I do.”

  He presses the gun right between Fyodor’s eyes.

  “You got her pregnant that night, you piece of trash.”

  My heart sinks. Oh my God, I think.

  Fyodor eyes widen.

  “Masha Antonov was my mother. You are my father, and I’ve waited my entire life to do this to you.”

  Nikolai turns to Lev. “I’m sorry, brother,” he whispers with tears of fury in his eyes. “But he’s mine.”

  He turns slowly, and looks right into Fyodor’s eyes.

  “No, wait, I’ll give you whatever you—”

  The gun roars. I scream and turn away into Lev’s chest as Fyodor’s head evaporates. His body tumbles to the ground, and Lev holds me tight.

  “It’s over, lastachka,” he whispers into my ear as he envelopes me in his arms. “It’s all over.”

  21

  Lev

  All that matters is that I have her back in my arms. The violence around us, the bloodshed—none of it even phases me as I hold her close.

  Two van-loads of our people arrive seconds after Fyodor’s body hits the ground. They sweep through, guns out. Oleg Ivanovich, one of Viktor’s most trusted men, snarls as he and two others slam Nikolai to the ground. Which means Viktor’s related my suspicions of him.

  I shake my head and call out to him.

  “I was wrong,” I grunt. Oleg looks up at me.

  “Viktor’s orders. He—”

  “Viktor was wrong, because I was wrong,” I growl quietly. I narrow my eyes at the big man. “Let him up. That’s an order.”