Throne of Power: Chapter 2

If power eludes you, then you have nothing.

It’s not only about being at the top. If you’re high enough, no one touches you or those close to you. No one dares to look at you, and when they do, they are blinded by the non-negotiability you project back at them.

That’s why I don’t and will never stop.

The higher I go in the ranks, the more they respect me, and one day, they will all bow down to Grandpa’s family name.

“We’re Sokolovs, Rai,” he told me once. “We don’t bend the knee. Everyone else does.”

With his words engraved deep in my heart, I take the stairs down.

The house is huge, as expected of the Bratva’s compound in New York. The sweeping marble stairs lead to a grand hallway that has light marble flooring. Gold rims the chesterfield sofa in the middle, the pillars, and even the carpet. The ceilings are vaulted, and there’s a painting of angels fighting demons in the middle. That usually gets visitors to stop and stare at the intricate detail put into the image.

On the other hand, that’s also usually the last thing they see before they’re ‘taken care of’. While we invite our associates here, we also invite our enemies.

Heaven and hell. Angels and demons.

Dedushka—Grandpa—was poetic that way, which shouldn’t have been a surprise considering his origins. He was not only the leader of one of the most successful Bratva branches in the States and Russia; his roots go back to the beginning, dating to the end of World War II.

I am part of that bloodline.

In fact, I’m the only one who can protect it anymore.

Today, I opted for black suit pants that give me a sharp edge. My beige coat hangs on my shoulders without me having to wear it. It’s a quirk I learned from Dedushka. My blonde hair is twisted in an elegant bun. My makeup isn’t loud, but it’s a few layers thick, making me look like I’m in my thirties instead of twenty-eight.

Being young is a weakness in the Vory world, and there’s no way I will let them exploit any of my shortcomings.

I’m stopped by a radiant face at the bottom of the stairs. Anastasia, my great-cousin, smiles upon seeing me, revealing perfectly straight—and petite—teeth. In fact, everything about her is, from her nose to her lips and her frame. The only thing that’s big are her huge green eyes. It’s like staring straight into the calm of the tropical ocean.

She’s wearing a modest long-sleeved dress that stops below her knees. Her blonde hair, a few shades lighter than mine, is gathered in a low, neat ponytail by a long ribbon. As usual, no ounce of makeup covers her face. Her smile falters for a second, and my red alert goes up all at once. The bloodthirsty mama bear in me comes out to play.

“What is it, Ana?”

“It’s…” She shakes her head. “Nothing, Rai. Have a nice day.”

“Ana.” I speak in my no-nonsense tone that she knows no one should challenge. “You can either tell me now, or we can stand here all day until you do.”

She bites her bottom lip, peeking up at me from underneath her naturally thick lashes. That should mean she’s close to letting it out.

Ever since I was brought into the Vory world, I always thought I only had Dedushka, and that was enough considering he was the Bratva’s Pakhan.

But then, my great-uncle Sergei, Dedushka’s youngest brother, brought in Anastasia to live with us. The first time I met her, I was thirteen. She was only five years old. Back then, she looked up at me as if she saw the world, as if I were her savior from whatever life she used to live before.

We instantly became best friends—or more like I became her protector, as she’s too fragile to be out there in the world.

Fifteen years later, she still considers me the same way she did before.

I step closer to her, lower my bag to my side, and try to remove the sternness from my tone. Anastasia trusts me, but she also told me I can be scary—not toward her, but scary in general.

That’s the last thing I want my Ana to feel toward me, but if it’s to protect her, I won’t only be scary—I’ll blow the whole fucking world to smithereens.

I place a hand on her shoulder, stroking gently. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nods twice.

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

Anastasia bites her lower lip again. “You won’t be mad?”

Unlike most of the Vory who have a noticeable Russian accent, she speaks English in a perfect American accent, probably because I’ve been teaching her since we were young.

“I will never be mad at you.” I smile at her, which is possibly the warmest type of smile I can offer to anyone.

“Papa said…he said…”

“What?”

She gulps. “He said I need to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“You know.”

“Unless you tell me, I don’t, Nastyusha.” I use her Russian pet name since she responds better to that.

“F-for…marriage.”

“For what?” I snap, and she flinches, her shoulders turning rigid under my touch. I internally curse myself for frightening her and take several seconds to calm down. “Did he mention who he’s marrying you off to?”

She shakes her head once while staring at her flat shoes. “He just said I need to get ready. Does…does this mean I can’t continue my studies?”

Her voice breaks with her last sentence. Few things affect me this deeply, and Anastasia is definitely at the top of the list. Seeing her in pain is like having one of my limbs cut off.

I raise her chin and she stares up at me with a wretched expression. There are no tears because she was brought up to be the perfect Vor’s daughter from a young age.

For her, crying isn’t a weakness like I consider it. In Anastasia’s dictionary, tears aren’t ladylike and shouldn’t be shown in public.

The fact that she wants to express her sadness, but can’t, digs the knife deeper into me.

I force a smile, stroking her hair back. “You don’t need to get ready for anything. I’ll talk to Granduncle, and none of this will happen.”

Her expression lights up. “Really?”

“Have I ever made a promise and not kept it?”

A gentle spark invades her expression. “Never.”

“Go study and don’t worry about this. Since you have exams coming up, you don’t need to come to the company.”

“I want to.”

Ana has been interning at V Corp for almost a year now. She followed computer engineering, which everyone thinks is useless in our line of work. I’m the only one who encouraged her because it’s the thing she chose freely and without shackles. She’s a numbers genius and it would’ve been a waste if she didn’t put that talent to use.

“As you wish. Where’s Granduncle?”

“He’s in the dining room…but you might not want to go in there. Papa is having a meeting with the rest of the Vory.”

“Of course he is, and let me guess—Mikhail is in there?”

“Umm…yes.”

Why am I not surprised that Granduncle brought up the whole marriage thing when that pest was around?

“Go back to your studies, Ana. Don’t let any of this get to you.”

She hesitates, then blurts, “Be careful. You know they don’t like you there.”

“They will dislike me more after today.”

“Rai…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” I say to please her even though I’m already plotting a war.

She steps forward and hugs me. “Stay safe, Rayenka.”

Then she takes moderate steps up the stairs.

I’ve never liked my Russian pet name unless Anastasia says it. When I came to live with Dedushka, he insisted that my mother named me Rai and that it was in fact short for Raisa, a Russian name. He invented that whole story just so he could have a Russian pet name for me.

Since his death, only Anastasia ever calls me that anymore. Oh, and Granduncle Sergei when he’s not mad at me. Let’s just say, he’ll have no pet names for me today, because I’m fully prepared to ruin his meeting.

The one I wasn’t invited to—again.

After Dedushka’s death seven years ago, Ivan, Grandpa’s nephew whom he raised as his own son, wanted power so badly he attempted to kill not only me but also his own uncle, Sergei.

I went through hell and back, working in the background and arranging meetings with the security group, the support group, and the four brigadiers who are the working arm of the Vory. I even went as far as recruiting the powerful boyeviks, whom the brigadiers’ leaders trusted more than their own family.

Dedushka left me the black book that contains names of influential people the Vory deals with. He said whoever has that book is meant to rule. Needless to say, everyone in the brotherhood would’ve killed me before allowing a woman to reign over them.

It’s not that I wanted to, but Dedushka entrusted me with the family name. My mission in life is to protect my family’s honor. Just because I was born a woman, doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone stomp all over me.

But since I knew any resistance would get me, Ana, and Granduncle killed, I gave him the book. With that, Sergei Sokolov became the current Pakhan. The boss. The leader of the brotherhood.

At least on the surface.

Only he and I, along with our most loyal member of the elite group, know that Granduncle has lung cancer he’s been fighting for months.

The moment the rest of the elite group know, it’ll all be over. The Pakhan can’t be weak. He can’t lead the Vory if he can’t stand up straight.

They will remove him and then it will be an all-out war between the four brigadiers, the literal kings who bring money into the brotherhood. The leaders of the security and support group might join too. It will be wolves against wolves, and one thing is for certain—Anastasia and I will either be coerced to marry into their families or killed in the case of disobedience.

Considering my rebellious character, they’ll definitely kill me.

There’s no way in hell they’ll kick me out of the brotherhood that prospered in Dedushka’s time. He started this legacy, and I will continue to uphold it.

While Granduncle has been ruling, I’ve risen up in V Corp’s ranks. It’s the legitimate front of the brotherhood and funnels a lot of money that takes care of most of the tax business.

I snatched the executive director’s post from a greedy associate of the Vory a year ago. In such a short time, V Corp’s net profit grew by fifty percent, and it will continue to in the future.

Granduncle is the CEO, but it’s only in image. In reality, all the work falls on my shoulders.

I’ve never considered it a burden, though, since it’s my way to claim my place at their table. Granduncle began to proudly invite me to the Vory’s meetings due to the accomplishments I’ve been presenting to the brotherhood—but not all of them, apparently, since I wasn’t invited to this one.

Inhaling deeply, I stand in front of the dining room. Its double doors are rimmed with golden ornamentation, and I use the intricate design as an opportunity to meditate.

Right on, war. Here I come.

“Miss Sokolov.” The sound of my last name coming from my left stops me. I stare at Vladimir—or Vlad, as I like to call him.

He’s part of the elite group, a Sovietnik, which is essentially the main coordinator between the Pakhan and the four brigadiers. He plays an important role that keeps the peace between the four brigadiers and makes sure they bring in profit to the Vory.

Vlad is the only member of the elite group that I trust—or more like I trust his loyalty. He was brought in by Dedushka and rose in rank to become who he is today.

Like me, he wants to keep Dedushka’s name in the ruling position.

“Morning, Vlad.”

“It’s either Vova or Vlodya, miss. Don’t use American nicknames on me.” He speaks with a Russian accent, but it’s not as distinctive as everyone else in the brotherhood.

“I will use whatever I want.”

He grunts a response. He does that a lot, grunting and releasing breaths as responses. He’s brooding to a fault, and it especially shows when he expresses how much he really doesn’t like the American half in me or how that half addresses him.

Vlad is generally a grumpy but intense person who barks orders at his soldiers with a tone that’s only meant to be obeyed.

He also has the looks that go with his grumpy personality. I’m not short by any means, but he’s so tall and broad that he blocks my vision whenever he stands in front of me. He dwarfs his suit’s jacket, and his beard adds more to his intimidation factor.

“Now, move, Vlad. I have a meeting to attend.”

His small pale eyes remain the same, but he steps between me and the door. “You were not invited.”

“Still, I have something to say.”

“I think it’s better if you keep your words to yourself, miss.”

“Guess what, Vlad? I don’t care what you think.”

“Miss.”

“Vlad.” I meet his impenetrable gaze with my own.

“You don’t want to be inside.”

“Why not?”

“The four kings are there.”

“The more the merrier. They all need to hear this.”

He grunts. “You cannot embarrass the Vor in front of them. It’s a sign of weakness.”

“I know that, and it’s exactly why I try to not displease him in front of them, but if you think I will let them rot his mind while I stand by and say nothing, then you don’t know Rai Sokolov.”

“Rot his mind?”

“They want to have Anastasia. Granduncle told her to get ready for marriage, and do you know who’s behind this? Those four fucking kings, that’s who, because Granduncle wouldn’t want to marry her off.”

Vlad’s expression doesn’t change, but he says in a monotone tone, “No.”

“What do you mean by no? I can’t allow them to coerce Ana into marriage. She’s fucking twenty, a kid who doesn’t even understand the world yet and wants to continue studying. I will claw their eyes out before they put her into a wedding dress.”

Vlad stares down at me with what seems like condescension mixed with bemusement. “I’m sure you will.”

“You bet I will, so don’t stand there telling me no.”

“I meant no, as in Sergei won’t force her into this.”

“How would you know if neither you nor I are there, huh?”

“You are not allowed to weaken the boss, miss.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I throw a dismissive hand up at his stern tone. He reminds me of that fact every day.

He remains silent for a second, and I think he’ll fight me tooth and nail on this, but then he asks in a contemplative tone, “How about you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Get married.”

“Get what?”

“You’re older—you can take a husband.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“This is, in fact, a perfectly sane solution. The only way to protect Anastasia and to continue ruling is to get married.”

“You think I haven’t thought about that? But any husband within the brotherhood will make me into his obedient tool. I would rather die first.”

“What if you can make him your obedient tool?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t take a husband to rule for you. Take a puppet you can rule through.”

“And you think such a man exists in the brotherhood? Every last one of them is hungry for power.”

“There are those who, like you, have other people ruling in the background on their behalf. You can just take that position.”

Oh. I have heard stories about that, but I always thought they were myths.

“And how would I be sure such men exist?”

“They do. I’ve encountered a few, and that’s how I came up with this plan.”

“I like the way you think, Vlad.”

He grunts and I smile. Even though he’s a little rough around the edges—okay, a lot—Vlad has my best interests in mind. If we can find someone who fits the criteria, then this can solve Ana’s problems and mine. I can push my puppet husband to the top and then, not only will I preserve my grandfather’s legacy, I will also protect Anastasia from any barbaric wedding.

“Any candidates in mind?” I ask Vlad with a coy smile.

“I will look into it and bring you complete files.”

I grab his chin with my thumb and forefinger. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best?”

“More than enough.” He pushes back, muttering under his breath, “Americans and their need to touch.”

“I heard that, and I’m as much of a Russian as you are, Vlad.”

His face remains the same. “If you go inside, it’s to tell Sergei you’re available for marriage.”

I am.

Am I, though?

I release a deep breath as memories of sinister blue eyes invade my head. At times, they’re the best part of a dream, and at others, they’re the most horrifying thing in a nightmare, the one thing that jolts me awake in the middle of the night, sweating, shivering, and shaking.

No. I’m over that bastard.

He betrayed me first. Now, it’s my turn.