Page 80 of Captive

“I am glad you’re back, Sacha. Your counsel has been sorely missed.”

I didn’t answer him. There was no need. Soon, Moscow and all of Russia would learn that fucking with the Federov Empire wasn’t in their best interest.

And soon, those who’d been responsible for the treachery would learn their fate.

* * *

My father’s house. I stood outside the estate, forced to endure several unwanted memories. While I felt extreme sadness, I also had a moment of reverence. I’d been one of the lucky ones, eventhough the majority of Russians might disagree. Being taken under his wing had at least provided me with the necessities in life as well as a solid education.

I took a deep breath before entering the mansion. The various remaining Brigadiers as well as the made men had been summoned. I’d already learned that their numbers had dwindled over the years, certainly not the force my father had commanded. That was due to Michail’s unusual leadership skills. I didn’t need to learn the details. My brother was a brutal man, exacting revenge on anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Given my brother’s possible defection, at least his betrayal had fueled their anger.

Or so I hoped.

The Petrovs would need to be driven out of the city in order for us to maintain our superiority. If that didn’t happen, my father’s soldiers would be gunned down one by one, their families exterminated in whatever method the Petrovs saw as necessary.

With Michail gone, Ivan had taken over the estate, as well as interim duties handling the affairs of the organization. An unusual move, but one I couldn’t argue with. I wasn’t here to reclaim the house or the would-be throne, merely to right a wrong.

As I walked into the living room, I could see a combination of emotions from anger to relief. In my hand was an assault rifle. I wasn’t taking any chances, nor did I want them to think I’d grown weak in my absence. There was instant quiet in the oversized space, although very little of it was about respect. However, they needed guidance and that’s what was about to occur.

“Bitva idet na nas.” By stating the fight was upon us, I would be able to tell the men who were prepared to take this seriously. To my surprise, the majority nodded. “My srazhayemsya do smerti.”

We fight to the death.

Several of the men raised their weapons in salute, their husky grunts affirmation.

“And just what does the pretty boy American think he is going to do against the Petrovs?” The question came from a man who’d been loyal to my brother over the years. Viktor had been in the Bratva for at least fifteen years. He’d never fully appreciated the power of the Federov family. He would now or he would die.

“We will succeed,” I stated in English. “Even if it means bringing death to the city.”

“You’d risk your brother’s life for power?” Viktor continued, the others around him nodding in appreciation.

“My brother has betrayed all of us. He will accept his punishment.” I kept my glare pointed in his direction, making certain he understood what was at stake.

“Ty predatel,” he hissed. “You are nothing to us. You have no power, your abilities sucked away by the American fools.”

I suspected many thought I was the betrayer.

“Dimitri Petrov has been eliminated.” The news was exactly what needed to be stated. “I assure you that his soul is roasting in hell.”

While the look on Viktor’s face remained full of fury, the others seemed to understand the ramifications of what had been told to them.

“Tonight. Be prepared.” I locked eyes with every man, finally turning my attention to Ivan. His smile was almost a reward. This was exactly what needed to happen.

As I walked outside, Viktor followed. I sensed his presence and turned, prepared for a fight.

“You need to hear this,” he stated, the defiance from earlier shifting into an entirely different emotion, one that wasn’t easily read.

But it was something I knew needed to be taken seriously.

* * *

There were some who said that revenge was the sweetest reward. In my past, I would have agreed with the sentiment. At this point in my life, I’d grown far too weary of blood wars. Even if the battle was necessary, the loss of life continued to weigh heavily on my mind.

The information Ivan had provided as to the whereabouts of Petrov’s soldiers had been correct. Within hours, dozens of them had been eliminated. While we suffered losses, I was proud of the men who’d served my father for years, some of them decades. Perhaps this would end the ugly battle for years to come.

Now I stood on the street, glancing up at the full moon. Blood covered my shirt, dirt and grime slathered against my nakedskin. I took deep breaths before lifting my arms, releasing a loud bellow into the night sky.

The message had been sent.