Page 9 of The Bratva’s Monster

We’re walking down the hallway leading to Alex’s office, which is a strange thing by itself. My brother has never had an ‘office’ in his house like most high-ranking Bratva. Over the years, he preferred to do his business in his parlor and have war room meetings in the dining room.

But since the war with the Irkutsks has gone quiet, Alex has settled more into his role as leader. Over the last couple of weeks, he had one of the dozens of spare rooms in his brownstone mansion turned into a proper office. As we walk, I faintly pick up the smells of paint and drywall left over from the renovation.

“Kisilev,” I repeat, musing over the name. Then it hits me. “Slavik’s heir.”

Kostya nods. “Yup. Just in from Mother Russia.”

I stop and turn to Kostya. “That why he called me in today? To let me know the Irkutsks have a new Pakhan? He could have told me that over the phone.”

“No, that’s not what’s going on.” He gives me a quick look up and down. “What’s up with you, Rikki? You’ve been edgy for weeks.”

“Nothing.” And that’s all I say to him. There’s plenty wrong with me lately. The rumor about Gedeon has turned out to be true, and I’ve been pissed about it since Kostya told me. The day I got jumped by those Irkutsk scum, he told me. Even had video proof of him meeting with Kiselev. I can’t get it out of my mind. And every second I think about how he acted like we were brothers all this time, just to stab the brotherhood in the back, I’m reminded of how cheated I feel that I wasn’t the one to put a bullet through his skull myself.

Kostya sighs and says, “Yeah, nothing. You’re wound tighter than a nun’s pussy lately.”

“You’re imagining things,” I say. We get to Alex’s door and he stops me, pulling me back for a second.

“You need a break or something, man. Or a reason to kick back for a night. You’re going to pop if you keep stomping around here like fucking Frankenstein.”

“Hey, I’m this Bratva’s chief enforcer,” I say. “Somebody has to keep these motherfuckers in line.”

“That’s your job, Rikki. What are you doing to relax? Do you relax anymore?”

My jaw clenches as the answer eludes me. Okay, he might be onto something.

“Listen,” he says, “you know that thing that the Devils are putting on? The charity ride? You’re going to the party afterward, right?”

I roll my eyes. I’m expected to go. As allies to the Blue Devils, all the high-ranking brothers are ‘expected’ to show up. No one’s asked me specifically if I was going to attend before now, though, and, to be honest, I haven’t given it much thought.

“I’m supposed to be there,” I say.

Kostya narrows his eyes. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“What’s the big fucking deal whether I’m there or not? Nobody’s going to care one way or the other. I don’t have to kiss any ass to get ahead or prove my allegiance or any of that bullshit. Alex doesn’t even⁠—”

“To have fun, you meathead,” he says. “Have some drinks, maybe hook up with a biker chick. Blow off some steam before you rip off the wrong head. It’ll do you some good.”

There have only ever been four men that I ever even consider taking advice from and two of them are dead… and one of them was a traitor besides. I take a second to consider what Kostya is saying, then I answer, “Let me think about it.”

“Do more than think about it.” He gives me an encouraging pat on the shoulder, then we walk into Alex’s office.

This room used to be one of the bedrooms on the second floor. The yellow wallpaper that was on the walls has been painted over with dark gray paint. The beige carpeting has been pulled up and replaced with a rough Berber. He had bookshelves built into one of the walls and every shelf is stuffed from one end to the other with books. His desk sits in front of the wall in front of us, a portrait of our father hanging behind it. And on the wall opposite the bookshelf is a big screen television, a comfortable chair and table against one corner, and a silver drink caddy at the other corner.

Alex is standing by the caddy, pouring clear liquid into a glass filled with ice. He glances up at us. “Thank you for coming in.” He finishes pouring his glass and asks, “Can I interest you in a drink?”

“Sure,” I say.

I wait while Alex makes me a drink and Kostya backs out of the room. He looks relaxed, like he’s spent the last month lounging around his house. The polo shirt he’s wearing looks well-worn and the black pants hang loose around his legs. His hair has grown a little longer, but not quite past his shoulders, the silver streak a little more prominent in the front.

“Sorry for the formality,” he says as he brings me the glass of what I can now smell is vodka. “After your getting jumped and this whole thing with Gedeon, I wanted to make sure you got here in one piece.”

I nod. “And uncompromised.”

The corners of his eyes turn up slightly, pleasantly. He got Mom’s sky blue eyes and some of her expressions. I suppose we both do to some extent. I have her auburn hair, but my eyes are hazel green.

“Yeah,” he says as he leans against his desk. “With everything going on, we haven’t had the chance to discuss much about Gedeon and his betrayal.”

I take a drink. The vodka burns smoothly down my throat. “What’s there to discuss? He sold out his brothers to cover his gambling debt, then he was killed a few days later. Seems to me there’s nothing for us to talk about.”