Throne of Power: Chapter 4

I stand in front of the people whom I once belonged to, the people who opened their doors for me when I was twenty-six because Nikolai, the previous Pakhan, took a special liking to me.

Now it’s different.

Now, the tension rolls in the air like a whip ready to split my back open.

Most of these men used to like me because, well, I was the most efficient hitman in the Bratva. None of their soldiers could come close to my skills. I did all their dirty work and sniped down people they needed taken care of.

While I was in their good graces before, the fact that I left for years doesn’t sit well with any of them. No one is allowed to leave the brotherhood—at least, not alive. The only resignation is death.

My gaze trails from the head of the table, Sergei—Nikolai’s youngest brother—to his elite group, who are all watching me peculiarly, all except for Daddy dearest, Igor, since he already knows about this.

Oh, and her.

I tilt my head to the side to get a better view of my little mafia princess. She’s actually sitting with the inner circle. That’s progress she must be proud of.

Rai is not so little anymore, though. Her face has aged and lost the few remains of innocence she used to hold on to in her grandfather’s time. Now, she appears like a cold, white statue with her light blonde hair and fair skin.

Her face’s contours are sharp, but it appears that way due to her makeup. It’s like she’s in disguise. Her lips are painted a nude color, and her eyeliner is like a preview of witch makeup for Halloween. Her posture is straight, flat, almost like she can’t move or control her limbs.

She’s nothing like the Rai who used to run all over the place and bug Nikolai so he would come out with her to the garden, or the Rai who used to pester Vladimir and me so we would teach her how to shoot.

It’s like the girl inside was taken away and this frigid woman was put in on her behalf.

Her eyes widen when they meet mine, though. It’s the only reaction she shows in her mute state, and it’s the only one I need.

There’s always been something mystical about Rai’s eyes. They’re blue, but not quite. There are situations where they darken like the sea in the middle of the storm, and there are times where they lighten to a clear summer sky. Then, there are instances like now where they’re caught in the middle, not sure if they want to wreak havoc or simply let it go.

Slowly, the widening disappears and the blue of her eyes turns pitch-black. I smile to myself. Of course, Rai wouldn’t choose to let go. She’s the epitome of determination and infuriating stubbornness.

Her Russian half always gets the better of her. It doesn’t matter that she spent the first twelve years of her life with her American father. The moment she joined her grandfather, she shed away the person from the past and completely embraced this lifestyle.

“What are you doing here?” It’s Damien who asks first, with subtle aggression. “You escaped the Bratva when you knew the punishment.” He stands up and points a gun at my chest. “If you came to your death with your own feet, I’m happy to grant you your wish.”

Igor stands up and slides in front of me, blocking Damien’s gun. My ‘father’ is old and has a bad knee that bothers him in the winters and when it rains—as he used to complain to Nikolai—but he’s tall and broad with a white beard that he keeps trimmed. Igor might not be the most famous king—mainly because Damien is an attention whore—but he has the charisma and the critical mind that has kept him in a position of power for decades.

He’s the best at not only picking his battles, but also at winning them. In a way, he’s the best ally to have in the Bratva. The others are elusive as fuck.

“Kyle is my son. You are not allowed to touch him.”

“Just because he’s your son, doesn’t mean he’s exempt from the rules.” It’s Rai who speaks in her detached, cold tone. “Betraying the brotherhood is punishable by death.”

Well, is that an ouch moment, or what? Even though I expected this reaction from all of them, for some reason, I never thought Rai would voice her thoughts concerning me this directly.

“If you hurt a hair on his head,” Igor says to Damien, “I hope you’re ready for an internal war.”

“There will be no internal war,” Sergei chimes in.

“You heard him,” I whisper to Damien. “So how about you sit the fuck down?”

He glares at me, his finger pressing on the trigger. Honestly? He’s so bloody unpredictable he might actually shoot me right here and now. Anything with the word ‘war’ in it is fun and games to Damien instead of a threat. He gets off on the high more than anyone else in this room.

Aside from me, of course.

“Sit down, Damien,” Sergei orders.

Damien complies, begrudgingly hiding his gun away, because if he keeps it out, it’s disrespectful to the Pakhan.

Igor remains by my side, as if he suspects one of the others will stand and repeat Damien’s show.

My gaze slides to Rai, who’s glaring at me with malice so deep, as if I murdered her family and ate their remains.

Anger is good. Anger will keep her on her toes around me, which is exactly what she needs to do.

“Kyle,” Sergei calls my name.

I face him with a smile. “Yes, Pakhan.”

“I’m not your Pakhan.”

“Yet?” I grin.

His grim expression remains the same. “You have one chance to explain yourself. Use it well.”

“Hmm, where do we start?” I pretend to be deep in thought. “When Nikolai brought me in, I was always an independent hitman, you know. I do clean hits, then go away until it’s time for the next job. It was freelance work. Technically, I didn’t belong to the Vory, and technically, I didn’t leave it.”

Damien curses me in Russian under his breath, and I pretend I don’t understand. “English, please. My Russian is bad as hell.”

“Where have you been?” Sergei asks.

“We looked a long time for you,” Kirill declares with his almost perfect American accent. He and Mikhail don’t want to get on Igor’s bad side; that’s why they’ve kept their mouths shut this entire time. It’s the bastard Damien who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone.

“I went on a discovery journey,” I say in a serene tone.

“A discovery journey?” Rai mutters through gritted teeth. “Are you making fun of us?”

“I really did go through it, Princess.” I wrap an arm around Igor’s shoulder. “I was looking for my family. Who knew he was exactly where I left them? It was such a coincidence that I was with the Bratva before I knew who my family was. I guess I take after my father unknowingly.”

“I’m curious,” Kirill muses. “How did you end up in England when you were young?”

“Ah, that. I lost my memories from childhood and was adopted by my assassin friends.” I motion at Adrian. “He knows my background; he’s the one who did a check on me before Nikolai recruited me.”

Adrian takes a sip of his drink. “He was an orphan who was brought up by reputable hitmen.”

I grin, snapping my fingers. “Exactly. But I always wanted to find my real family.”

“It took you thirty years to do that?” Damien questions.

“You would be surprised how long it takes to track down an accident that happened decades ago, especially since I didn’t have much info to go on and was busy with killing and stuff. Seven years ago, I decided to dedicate my time to finding my family. That’s why I left.”

“And you spent seven years searching for your family?” Rai shoots back.

“It’s a long, tiresome journey. Do you want a play-by-play account?”

She ignores me and takes a sip of her coffee then grimaces and slides it away on the table.

Damien grabs another cigarette and shoves it in his mouth before he speaks. “I say he can’t be accepted back in.”

“I also say he can’t be part of the brotherhood anymore.” She agrees with him, and my jaw tightens underneath the welcoming smile. “This is not a child’s playground where he can waltz in and leave as he wishes. Vlad?”

Vladimir, who has been silent, watching the scene with Adrian, releases a breath. “Kyle was given the title of a Vor by the previous Pakhan. We can’t simply get rid of him as if he never existed.”

“Vlad!” Rai hisses, but he lets out a grunt in response.

“Yeah, Vor.” I point a thumb at myself. “That’s me, remember?”

“Let’s vote,” Sergei finally says. “Those who want Kyle punished and exiled, raise your hand.”

Damien and Rai do so at the same time. I smile on the outside, but the need to shake her the fuck up grips me out of nowhere. Since when is she on that arsehole’s side?

She keeps glaring at Vladimir, probably so he will follow her lead, but he doesn’t.

“Now, those in favor of Kyle returning to the brotherhood, raise your hand,” Sergei says in his calm, very Russian-accented speech.

Igor raises his hand first, then Kirill and Mikhail follow. Vlad and Adrian are next. Those two are the smartest. They know my skills are more important than the brotherhood’s laws.

Sergei raises his hand last, crushing Rai and Damien by six to two. When they all drop their hands, he says, “Welcome back to the Vory, Kyle. If you leave this time, you’ll be punished.”

I make a cross sign and grin. “I’ll serve the brotherhood until death does us part, cross my heart and hope to die.”

Rai stands up, her face reddening underneath the thick layers of makeup. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait.” Sergei stops her before she takes a step. “You agreed to marry Igor’s eldest son, and he is here now.”

Jackpot.

“You agreed to marry me?” I pretend to be surprised. “I thought it was going to be Anastasia.”

“Rai volunteered to get married on Anastasia’s behalf,” Igor explains.

As I thought she would. When I got Igor to plant the seed in Sergei’s head about marrying Anastasia off, I figured it’d somehow come down to this. It doesn’t take a genius to know Rai would sacrifice herself for the girl she’s been sheltering ever since they were kids.

“I…” She trails off, probably wanting to backpedal, but she realizes the highest principle in the brotherhood is to keep your word. The moment you lose that, no one will respect you.

“Have you changed your mind?” I push.

“No.” She meets my gaze with her lethal one. “I’m a Sokolov, and we keep our word.”

Sergei nods in agreement with a hint of pride at his grandniece. “It’s settled then. Bring me the dowry, Igor.”

“Will do, Pakhan.”

Rai looks like she’s about to throw up, but she kisses Sergei’s knuckles and leaves, the sound of her heels loud and confident in the silence of the room.

I smile as the door closes behind her. The second part of the plan is done. Time to move to the third.

I grin at Sergei. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a word with my fiancée.”