Forbidden Vows: Chapter 34

The days that follow seem like a dream.

The cops aren’t listening. My lawyers are intent on building a plea deal for the charges that the DA is already rushing to throw at me. It’s not until I see Andrei—three days after the shootout—that the world starts making sense again.

“Where the hell have you been?” I hiss.

We’re in my jail cell, guarded by a uniformed police officer who makes it a point to stare at me and eavesdrop on every conversation. Except for meetings with my lawyer, those are still protected. I know that I am quite vulnerable in this place, and it causes me to be on edge all the time.

“Orange is not a good color for you, brother,” Andrei sighs as he takes a seat in front of me.

“Yeah, well, ending up in here in an orange jumpsuit wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” I mutter. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s a bit messy, but I think I have a solution,” he says. “First, I need to fully explain the problem we’re dealing with.”

“Okay, Andrei, explain the problem. Fully.”

“The council meeting went about as well as you could expect. We were able to get some of the families back on board, but we still have some major holdouts. Paul has been lobbying against us, pulling the rest of the Kuznetsovs under his umbrella. The Abramovic, the Sokolov, and the Popov crews are still siding with the Kuznetsovs. And they’re still asking for you to step down. This time, however, with Sergei obviously rotting, they want Paul at the head of the table.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I wish. Tommy Benedetto slipped out when he saw the cops coming that night, and I’ve yet to reach him. Declan is recovering, but he’s under arrest, too. Legally, it’s not looking good for us, brother. For you, in particular. Paul covered many of Sergei’s tracks, so it’s hard for our side to prove that you weren’t going in there to assassinate him. They’re trying to make it look like a failed mob war, and they want to take the Karpovs down,” Andrei says.

“What about Eileen and Ciara’s testimonies?”

“Considered and recorded, but they won’t do much against that mountain of bodies that you fellas dropped.”

“It’s not like we had a choice.”

“I know that. Had we been the ones to call the cops first, we would’ve had better control over the narrative. It still would’ve sucked, and it would’ve been a pain to clean up, but—”

“I’m still looking at a trial and prison time.”

“Yeah, afraid so.”

“You said you had a possible solution.”

Andrei gives me a strained smile. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Try me, because all I want is to get out of here so I can be with my wife and my family.”

“As I said, Tommy has been impossible to reach, but I did get a call from one of his NSA buddies. He was right—his contacts are ranked higher than Ian’s,” he chuckles. “They put me in touch with someone from the FBI’s Chicago Field Office. An offer was made.”

“An offer was made,” I repeat after him.

My stomach drops. I know what that means. I also know that I cannot compete with an ambitious DA who was just handed a nice case against us. There’s too much evidence. And the fact that Paul Mattis called the cops does reset the narrative in his favor, no matter how much proof we come up with against Sergei.

And even that doesn’t guarantee that I’ll avoid prison time.

I will do whatever it takes to be a free man.

I’ve got too much to lose now.

A week later, still unable to contact Eileen under my newly revised agreement with the FBI, I take my brother and organize another council meeting at the Upton Conference Center. This time, I made sure to let it slip through the Bratva grapevine that I was about to renounce my seat.

“Would you look at that?” Andrei mutters as we watch Paul Mattis and the other treacherous pieces of shit walk into the meeting room. “You were right.”

“I said I’d quit. Of course, they showed up,” I reply, comfortable and calm in my seat.

I’m still at the head of the table, though. Negotiations with the Feds took forever. For a moment, I wasn’t sure we’d get anywhere. Fortunately, Andrei came through for me, as always. He may not be the wisest nor the most clearheaded, but when the shit hits the fan, my brother always shows up.

“Looks like we’re all here, right?” I ask as my gaze slides across the massive conference table, setting the tone for what is likely to be a very uncomfortable conversation. “We’re not expecting anyone else, correct?”

“You killed Sergei, so no,” Paul bluntly replies.

I give the weaselly bastard a wry grin. “Right. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get started.”

“Why are you out?” Ilinka Aslanov asks me before I can say another word. “I was told you were denied bail, that you’d be stuck in jail until your trial.”

“Yet here I am.” I grin, confidently dressed in one of my favorite suits.

“Get on with it,” Paul says. “Resign, so we can move on.”

“Why would I resign?” I innocently ask. “I have done nothing but good and right by our organization. Our finance department can easily confirm that. You each have a copy of our turnover reports in front of you,” I add, nodding at the folders that Andrei has left at every seat at the table.

It took us a while to plan precisely how this meeting would unfold, and I have to admit, it’s already going better than I had expected. With one eye on my watch, I wait for their reactions.

Peter Popov is already drunk and easily riled up. “What are you talking about? You don’t have the majority support. Not anymore. We don’t want you in that seat, Anton.”

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble with the police,” Max Abramovic adds with a sharp, overly confident grin. He’d be quite the heartthrob if he weren’t such a psychopath. I guess it’s why he and Sergei got along so well. “We can’t have that kind of stain on our face, not after the treaty we all worked so hard to enforce.”

“We’re expecting a resignation today,” Dmitri Sokolov replies. “Nothing else.”

I look around the table again. “Ivan and Petra, thank you both for being here today,” I address the Fedorovs first. “Ivanka, you, too. I have always had faith in your judgment. Oleg Sokolov, you’ve got quite the mouth on you, but your honesty is brutal and sorely needed in these trying times. And Andrei, my beloved brother, I’m forever grateful for your support. It’s true, Peter,” I add, giving the Popovs a cool grin. “I don’t have a majority anymore, but that’s about to change.”

Dmitri chuckles. “Really? How so?”

“I’m going to change your minds. By the time we’re done, there’s going to be a shift in the votes submitted at this table,” I declare. The city of Chicago smiles at me from beyond the glass windows. “So, let me start at the beginning. Let me, in fact, start with the treaty.”

“The Trattoria Rosa dinner of 1985,” Andrei chimes in.

“Precisely. The treaty was drawn up and signed that night. I’ve taken the liberty of enclosing a copy in each of your folders. Do me a favor and go through it, paying special attention to what the fourth edict says.”

Ilinka frowns as she takes out her copy. “Any attempt on the life of a family member, by blood or by marriage, is considered a declaration of war.”

“Correct,” I say.

“Nobody tried to kill Eileen,” Paul is quick to interject.

“I’m afraid I have a witness who can contradict that claim,” I reply.

“Ciara Donovan? She’s a crazy, scheming bitch,” he scoffs. “Easily disputed.”

“Well, not really. She’s got a gunshot wound that confirms Kuznetsov’s intentions,” I rebuff. “And I believe that by the time the CPD concludes their investigation, there will also be CCTV footage to back that up.”

Peter Popov scoffs lightly. “Even so, Sergei Kuznetsov is dead. A life for a life. The price has been paid.”

“Not really. You see, I am offended by your accusations that my activities brought the police to our doorstep,” I say, nodding at my brother to play a recording on his phone.

Suddenly, the room goes quiet as we all hear Paul’s voice on the recording.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

“Yes, hi, my brother is in fear for his life. He’s at 233 Sutherland Avenue, on the East Side. Multiple assailants with weapons have charged into the building. They’re gunning for him. You need to send someone there fast. He’s alone and scared!”

Ilinka gasps, eyes wide with horror.

Andrei stops the recording.

Tension fills the air as all eyes turn to Paul.

“That’s supposed to be confidential,” Paul mutters as his face drains of blood, beads of sweat blooming across his forehead and temples. He knows he’s in deep shit now.

“How did you—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I cut him off. “What matters is that I’m not resigning today. In fact, I’m reaffirming my leadership over the Bratva by exposing the charlatans and the traitors in our midst, starting with Sergei Kuznetsov and Paul Mattis. My brother has already served you all with compelling evidence regarding his treachery and his machinations, not to mention the financial damage that he has caused to his own businesses.”

“Resign,” Max Abramovic insists.

I cock my head to the side, visibly amused. “Did you know that there’s a RICO investigation actively looking into your activities in Lincoln Park, Maximilian buddy?”

“They have nothing on me.”

“They do now,” I reply.

As if on cue, the door opens. In walk a dozen FBI agents, waving their warrants around.

I nod to Peter next.

“You’ve been running some shady dealings down in Bronzeville that I chose to close my eyes and ears to for far too long, Peter. That also ends now.”

“Dmitri Sokolov,” one of the agents declares, cuffs already out. “Get up. You’re under arrest.”

“Under what charge?” Dmitri gasps, downright enraged, while the other agents promptly arrest Max and Peter.

“Little Village,” I remind the Sokolovs. “That dirty family secret you thought nobody knew about? I knew about it.”

“Anton, what are you doing?” Ilinka asks me, genuinely alarmed. “Turning on your own like this? Handing us over to the Feds? Are you serious?”

“I’m not handing you over to the Feds,” I tell her.

With their rights read and their wrists cuffed, Max Abramovic, Peter Popov, and Dmitri Sokolov are escorted out of the room by the FBI agents. Their supervisor gives me a curt nod. “You’re good, Mr. Karpov. Thank you for holding up your end of the bargain,” he says.

“To my surprise, it was a pleasure doing business with you,” I reply with a cool grin.

Once they’re gone, there’s a lightness to the room that wasn’t there before.

Max’s second-in-command, Sasha, looks rather confused and scared. Peter’s son, Perry, is just as distraught, already on the phone texting their lawyers. Dmitri’s twin sister, Iulia, gives me a slight nod, though she’s working really hard to keep her fury in check. She understands what just happened.

And so does Ivan Fedorov, who starts laughing wholeheartedly. “So, is that it then?” he asks me. “Those of us who betray you go to federal prison? You’ve clearly got the FBI in your pocket now. Is this a show of force?”

“Not at all. Max, Peter, and Dmitri were the least useful members of the organization, and our greatest liabilities, whether any of you are willing to admit it or not,” I say. “All I did was clean house. It was sorely needed. Hey, Paul?”

“What?” He’s wide-eyed and pale, sitting in his chair in disbelief.

“There’s another team of agents waiting for you downstairs. Don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to be dealing with the NSA, though. You, and the entire Kuznetsov organization, to be specific. You’re out of the Bratva altogether, and the Kuznetsovs are no longer welcome at this table. Any attempt at creating a competing force will be met with the full weight of the Bratva.”

“You’re screwed six ways from Sunday.” Andrei laughs.

“Let’s not make fun of their troubles,” I joke. “But yeah, you’re fucked, because you’re the one who brought the police and turned this whole thing into a federal case. This is on you, Paul, and you will pay the appropriate penalty. To everyone else left at this table, is there still a request for me to resign? Or are we moving on?”

Quietly, Paul removes himself from the meeting, rushing out the door like the terrified little mouse that he is. He won’t get far, though. I estimate he’ll be getting his own set of bracelets in less than a minute.

Ivan Fedorov gives me a hard look. “You consorted with the Feds.”

“I had no other choice. It was either that or jail time for something that is fully acceptable under our treaty. Fuck their laws. It’s our laws that I’m focused on defending. And what Sergei and his followers did… well, I couldn’t let that stand. Not when he tried to kill my wife!” I begin shouting. “So, yes! I will bury each and every single member of the fucking Bratva if any of you even think about gunning for anyone in my family ever again! Is that clear?”

My voice booms across the room and a heavy silence follows.

Ilinka breaks it. “Understandable and acceptable. You have our support.”

“You saved my niece,” Ivan says to me. “You have our support.”

“And ours,” Oleg Aronov adds. “I may not be your biggest fan, but you are fair.”

Sasha Abramovic raises a trembling hand. “You have our support as well,” he says.

“The Popovs stand with you,” Perry chimes in.

Iulia Sokolov takes a deep breath. “It’s better than the federal galleys, I suppose.”

“Ah. There we go. Minds changed. Votes changed. And we’re all better for it, right?” I quip with a bright smile as I reclaim my seat at the head of the table. “Now, let’s move forward with the issues at hand and how we’re going to deal with each of them. I need to get home to my wife.”