The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(6)

“Boss is waiting.”

He gave Mishca a pointed look, telling him everything he needed to know. Mikhail was pissed. Sighing—because he was beyond tired of being called on like a child—Mishca knocked once on the closed door before letting himself in.

Mikhail was by the windows, his lieutenants standing around like bumbling idiots. Looking over his shoulder, Mikhail barely spared Mishca a glance.

“Leave us.”

The brigadiers rushed to do as Mikhail bid, not sparing Mishca a glance though they were all thinking the same thing.

The Bratva Captain was in deep shit.

“Is this how you deign to join me?” Mikhail asked, tapping his ringed index finger against the glass he held.

“Apologies that I couldn’t change after nearly being killed by your associates,” Mishca said dryly, dropping down into the seat across from the fireplace.

“Your rudeness will not be tolerated today, Mishca,” Mikhail snarled, slamming his glass down on the edge of his desk. “Have you any idea what you have caused? For five years that deal was in place and what do you do—you spit in my face.”

“Lauren was—”

“Zatknis—Shut up! I could care less about your pet. This is business.”

Mishca didn’t like his tone, and disliked the way he referred to Lauren even more. “And yet you have cost our business more because of your whore than because of my relationship with Lauren.”

“She has made you bold,” Mikhail said with fire in his eyes. “I gave you those stars and I will take them from you. I have let this go on for too long. You end this, this fling before I end it for you.”

Before, Mishca would have heeded Mikhail’s warning, had, in fact, done so, but that was before. Now, the power difference between them was less significant. And even if it weren’t, Mishca still wouldn’t have went along with it.

“And why exactly would I do that?” asked Mishca evenly, reclining back in his chair, drumming his fingers on one arm of the chair. “Because you order me? That’s no longer how this works.”

“No?” Mikhail couldn’t hide his surprise at Mishca’s audacity. “You listen to me.”

“But not everyone does. You consider yourself unmoved by emotions, yet you had your own brother killed for f*cking your wife. How do you think the others view this?”

Mikhail’s face mottled with anger, his temper barely checked. “He acted without my blessing and—”

He waved his hand, cutting his father off. “You could give a shit about Lauren or her family. That may have been your excuse, but we know the truth, along with half the men that you control. How quickly do you think rumors spread, father?”

“Don’t forget, boy, you were the one to take his life.”

Mishca shrugged. “My motives were clear. He took from Lauren, which means he took from me. But that’s inconsequential. What do you think I will tell the other Pakhans if they were to ask?”

“You think to threaten me? I am your Pakhan! You obey me! I have told you, women have no place in our world, yet you believe you are above the rules. Your life has—”

“Precisely,” Mishca exploded. “My life. As long as it is not affecting the Bratva, it is none of your concern.”

Just as quickly as his burst of anger came, Mikhail calmed considerably, an amused smile curling his lips. “Then I will only treat you as a Pakhan would his Captain.”

Mishca climbed to his feet, buttoning his jacket. On his way out, he threw over his shoulder, “Were we ever anything else?”



Lauren stumbled out of her bedroom, bleary eyed and ready to commit murder if whoever it was didn’t stop making all that noise. To her confusion, several men were going in and out of her apartment, one at the door replacing the locks, others moving furniture in and out.

Amber was in the kitchen looking on casually, a glass of lemonade in one hand. She looked far too happy at this time in the morning—despite it being a little past noon—smiling at one of the younger workers that repeatedly looked back at her.

“What the hell is going on?” Lauren asked when she made it over to the kitchen, nearly throwing herself at the fresh coffee on the counter.

“It seems everyone’s favorite Russian wanted to up the security around here. Not that I’m complaining of course.”

Lauren looked around at the men, not really surprised by what she was seeing. He had promised things would be different from now on, but she didn’t realize that he was going all out.

She vaguely remembered him leaving that morning, kissing her before he left, but nothing after that. It was clear that he had at least talked to Amber beforehand.

“Did Luka leave with him?”

“Nope, he’s in my shower.”

Lauren coughed, nearly spitting out her coffee as she turned wide eyes on her friend. “You didn’t…”

“Of course not, but I’m not ashamed to admit that I walked in on him.”

Laughing, Lauren asked, “What was your excuse?”

“I left a pen on the sink.”

Even the workers looked over as Lauren’s laughter grew louder. “That’s a terrible excuse.”

“He didn’t seem to mind. Hell, he waved while using my loofah by the way.” Amber leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice to say, “Have you seen his junk?”