Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)



I find him in a boardroom.

“Watching your legacy go up in flames?” I ask. “Seems a little masochistic, even for you.”

Spartak turns to me, his gun lying casually in his hand. “You think this is the end?”

He’s sitting at the end of a long table. The room is empty apart from him. His men have either abandoned him or died.

“I know it is.” I brandish my gun. “It’s time for your final speech, Belov.”

He gives me a smile. “You think because you’ve got me cornered, I’m done? You don’t think I have a contingency plan?”

“I’m sure you do,” I say. “I never thought you were stupid. Merely misguided.”

His eyes narrow as he tries to brush off the insult. “I have your wife. And your son.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just show me where they are,” I say. I don’t want to play any more games. I’m ready for this to end.

He smiles. “It would be my pleasure.”

Belov rises slowly and leads me out of the room and down the hall. He heads up a flight of stairs, seemingly unconcerned that his back is to me and I’m armed.

On the way, we run into Gaiman and Jax.

“Go back down and make sure everything is under control,” I tell both of them.

“What about you?” Jax asks.

“I can handle this.”

“Cocky,” Belov murmurs thoughtfully. “Every don’s downfall.”

Jax and Gaiman hesitate, but when I glare at them, they sigh and do as they’re told. Spartak leads me down a long corridor and stops in front of a plain door with a golden handle.

“After you,” he says.

I shake my head. “You first.”

He exhales impatiently and walks in. I follow him into the room and find Willow standing there, clutching a small bundle in her arms.

“Leo…” Her eyes go wide when they land on me.

And so do mine…

When I see that Semyon’s nurse has a gun pointed at her head.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” Spartak laughs. “Trusting you is going to get her killed. Trusting me is going to make her a Bratva queen. Now, unless you want Marika here to blow your wife’s brains out, lower your weapon.”

Without hesitation, I drop my arm. Belov gives a satisfied smile and relaxes.

“See, my dear? I’m the horse you should have tied your wagon to,” he says. “Any last words to your dearly beloved husband?”

“Don’t kill him,” she begs. “Please.”

“My beauty, don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be. Say what you need to say while you still can.”

She says nothing, but I can see tears start to pool in her eyes.

“Very well,” Belov says with a shrug.

He turns to me and raises his gun. I stare at the barrel calmly.

As I expected, he doesn’t pull the trigger. He can’t bear ending things so unceremoniously. He wants the whole fucking dog-and-pony show.

If only he knew how this was really about to end.

“Let’s clear up a few mysteries first, shall we?” Spartak asks. “How did you find out about Willow in the first place? By the time I learned of her existence, you had already married her.”

“Let’s just say I had a friend on the inside.”

“And they found out about Anya’s secret bank account for Willow?” he guesses.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Belov says. “Who was this friend on the inside?”

I glance towards Willow. I planned on doing this part differently. I planned to sit her down and explain the whole story, from beginning to end, so she could finally see just how all the puzzle pieces fit together.

But circumstances change. Plans shift. Life interferes.

“Semyon Mikhailov.”

Willow’s eyes go wide.

I turn to Belov, and he’s wearing the same shock. He shakes his head. “It can’t be.”

“Why would I lie now?” I ask. “He knew the monster to whom he had handed over his Bratva. He regretted it. When he found out about Anya’s secret account, he traced it back to Willow and surmised that she was his granddaughter. That’s when he made the decision to reach out to me.”

Belov’s surprise is shifting to rage. “He reached out to you?”

“This is going to be tedious if you insist on repeating everything I say,” I sigh. “Yes, he reached out to me. That’s how I knew about Willow.”

“I monitored the old fuck,” Belov spits. “I watched him like a hawk. He didn’t leave the fucking compound without my say-so. Without my being there.”

“He didn’t leave the compound,” I say. “He sent me a letter.”

“He would have needed help to get a letter to you,” Belov says, trying to connect the dots. “He would have—”

He stops short. “Of course,” he whispers. “Of course… Brit.”

I shake my head. “She wasn’t the go-between. We’d placed her too close to you. I couldn’t risk her identity being compromised if you happened to catch her with a letter from Semyon that was addressed to me.”

Belov is starting to look nervous now. I can see the fear quickly replacing his confidence.

“Do you really think that Ariel was the only mole I planted?” I press. “I planted someone even before Ariel. Someone no one would ever suspect. A person who could hide in plain sight. Except that Semyon was a lot more perceptive than I gave him credit for. He discovered my mole early on. He made it clear that he had no intention of fighting against the Solovevs any longer. The only person he wanted destroyed… was you.”

Belov’s face has gone dark with rage. “Who was it? Tell me who the fuck it was!”

The nurse pulls the gun away from Willow’s head and aims it at Belov.

“It was me,” she says.

Then she shoots.

Willow curves her body over Pasha and runs to the corner of the room, away from the action.

Belov is lying on the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. The nurse shot to wound, not to kill.

In the excitement, he dropped his gun. I kick it out of his reach.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” I whisper, enjoying the way his expression is twisting between rage and fear.

“It… it can’t be…”

“Luda,” I say, gesturing for her to come forward. “Why don’t you come and introduce yourself?”

She walks over and stands at my shoulder. The gun is still in her hand, steel in her eyes. After almost a decade of lying in wait, she’s seething with rage.

“My name is Luda Yolkin,” she says. “My son’s name was Petyr Yolkin. Do you remember him?”

Belov stares at her blankly, his eyes shifting from her face to the gun in her hand.

“Petyr,” Willow breathes from where she’s crouched in the corner. “He was your brother’s second in command.”

I nod. “Pavel’s closest friend and his most trusted Vor.” I turn to Belov. “You killed him along with my brother the day you decided to spit on the Bratva code of honor.”

Spartak’s eyes go wide as they veer between Luda and me. “You… you’re his mother?”

She gives him one curt nod. “I have been waiting for the day when I could stand before you and watch the life drain from your eyes.”

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