Page 85 of Silken Chains
“Yes, boss. Our men are ready to kill,” Misha responds, his grin sharp, eyes alight with the thrill of the impending challenge.
I nod, my attention shifting to the photos in my hand. They’re grainy, taken from a distance, but clear enough. Ivan’s men, twenty-three in total, clustered around a shipment at the docks.
Each one armed, their postures relaxed but ready—a false sense of security they’ve draped around themselves like a cloak. I study their faces, memorize their stances.
“Vasiliev, that fucker, believes he’s untouchable with his pack of rats guarding him,” I spit out with disdain.
Misha leans in, peering at the photos over the expanse of the table. “Underestimating us.”
“Exactly.” I toss the photos down, my mind racing through scenarios. “Pizda.”
Surveying the room, my eyes meet those of my finest men. Warriors who’ve stood by me since the beginning. Without these loyal soldiers, Morozov Bratva would crumble.
Their attire speaks volumes of readiness: black tactical gear, vests bristling with ammo, faces set in determination. Misha’s rallied fifteen, each one a testament to our strength.
“We hit the docks hard and fast. No mercy. We take back what’s ours,” I declare. A unified roar of agreement fills the room.
“Get the transport ready,” I command Boris, catching his gold-haired silhouette nodding back. Quiet yet deadly, he’s a force to be reckoned with.
Everyone starts to clear out, ready for the night’s mission. But Misha hesitates at the door, turning back to me with a serious look. “Are you sure you want to come with us, boss?” His beard, a few days’ growth, gives him a rugged edge.
“Of course.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
“But the wedding….”
“For fuck’s sake, Misha,” I growl, frustration building. I start checking my gun, making sure it’s loaded and ready. “I will not have people thinking I’m a weaker man just because I’m about to get married. This is Bratva, Misha. It fucking means brotherhood. I’m not ruling like some dictator. Every man here is my brother.”
Misha frowns, clearly concerned. “But something may happen.”
His words trail off, and for a moment, my mind wanders to Laura—her large amber eyes, the innocence that seems to wrap around her like a veil. The way she moves, speaks… it stirs something unexpected in me. A distraction I can’t afford right now, not with what’s at stake.
I run a hand over my face, trying to shake off the softness creeping into my thoughts. “Blyad,” I curse under my breath.
This is not me. I’m not supposed to feel this… weakness.
“No!” I snap, sharper than I intended. “I’m going in, and I’m taking back every damn thing they stole from me.”
We park the SUV in the shadows, further in where the night swallows us whole. A prickle of unease worms through me, but I shove it down deep. This is no place for doubt.
We step out into the biting cold, the river’s chill wind cutting through even the toughest layers. My men, faces masked and eyes sharp, wait for my signal.
We move as one toward the dock, silent ghosts in a world of shadow and frost. Vasiliev’s goons are easy to spot, huddled together for warmth, cigarettes glowing like fireflies in the dark.
“So fucking cold,” one of them grumbles, wrapped in a thick hoodie that’s no match for the night’s bite.
“Stop complaining, dickhead,” another snaps back, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the air, a fleeting serpent in the cold.
“This is fucking bullshit! What the hell are we doing here?” the first guy spits out. “I’d rather be at Tally’s bar, pounding my cock into those fresh sluts.”
“Fuck, yeah,” one goon smirks. “Heard the next shipment’s from Moldova. They have some sweet tight cunts.”
“There’s no tomorrow for you,” I mutter under my breath.
Misha catches my eye, a silent understanding passing between us. With a subtle nod, our men spring into action. They’re on the two complainers in a heartbeat, one choked silent with a wire, swift and merciless. Misha, ever the shadow, silences the other with a clean slice across the throat.
No noise, no struggle, just the end.
Quickly, efficiently, we drag their bodies into a dark alley, out of sight. Our group advances, closing in on the abandoned warehouse, the heart of tonight’s operation.
