Nikolai

Nikolai

I notice the way Adrian keeps clearing his throat and staring outside the window. He's nervous. I smile to myself as I look outside as well.

We arrive in front of a huge gate. The gate opens and our car drives in.

As we approach the compound, I'm enveloped by an aura of seclusion and security.

The house sits atop a hill, surveying its surroundings like a fortress. The perimeter is shrouded in tall, dense trees.

To the left, a sleek, modern gatehouse stands still, manned by heavily armed guards. Their eyes scan every visitor, their faces expressionless.

As we near the main house, the sound of distant traffic fades, replaced by the soft hum of security cameras and the muted chatter of guards patrolling the grounds.

The car stops in front of the main house, and we all step down.

“Kuzma, you'll wait here. Ilya and Adrian will follow me in.” I instruct and notice the way Ilya looks at Adrian. He doesn't trust him.

He threw a fit last night, asking why I suddenly employed another person.

“Okay, Boss.” Kuzma nods, feeling glad to wait back in the car. He's the carefree one and Ilya? I swear to God, I've never seen him smile.

“Come on.” I say to Ilya and Adrian and they both walk behind me. The doors are opened by the guards as I step into the grand entrance of the Pakhan’s house.

The high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and lavish furnishings scream luxury and power.

I walk through the sprawling foyer, my eyes scanning the lavish decor. The walls are adorned with expensive artwork, and the floors are covered in plush carpets that silence my footsteps. Every detail screams opulence.

To my left lies the lavish dining hall, where we host elaborate feasts and high-stakes meetings. The long, polished table seats twenty comfortably, surrounded by velvet-draped windows and a stunning crystal chandelier.

Moving deeper, I enter the heart of our operations. The conference room. Here, our Pakhan and top-tier members strategize and make life-or-death decisions.

Ilya stops and Adrian takes that as a cue to stop, while I walk inside, the room exudes power, with Six leather-bound chairs surrounding a sleek wooden table, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with law books and tactical manuals.

“You're late, Rostov.” Alexei says with a straight face as I take a look at my wristwatch.

“At least I came before Mikhail.” I nod towards an empty chair before sitting on the other empty chair.

Everyone is already present, except Mikhail. He's always late.

“Hello, Dmitri.” I smile at the gray-haired man. The Pakhan of the brotherhood. He waves briefly at me and I proceed to say hi to the other members.

“The fact that you've finally shown your face after six months is quite surprising, Rostov.” Vladimir utters after a while and I turn to face the brown-haired man. He's the oldest after the Pakhan.

“What can I say? I've been mourning my dear old dad.” I flash a smirk at him. Vladimir and I never get along. He does not get along with anyone. The man is annoying as hell.

Vladimir snorts, his lips curling into a sneer. "Mourning? You? That's rich, Rostov. I'm surprised you didn't celebrate his passing with a champagne toast."

I chuckle, feeling the familiar spark of annoyance ignite within me. "Oh, I did. In private, of course. Wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Vladimir."

As I speak, I notice the faint flush rising up Vladimir's neck, a sign of his growing anger. I press on, eager to push his buttons.

"How's your blood pressure been? Still through the roof, I hope?"

Vladimir's face darkens, his jaw clenched.

"You think you're funny, don't you? Well, let me tell you, Rostov, your jokes are as stale as your attitude."

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Attitude? Coming from the king of condescension? That's adorable, Vladimir." I deadpan.

“That's enough!” Dmitri's loud voice brings order to the room.

“And Rostov is back again.” Viktor who's sitting beside me chuckles.

“I know I've been away for six months,” I begin and just when I'm about to continue, the door swings open and Mikhail walks in, closing the door behind him.

Viktor glances at his watch and says, "Right on time, as always, Mikhail. You're only 15 minutes late."

"Welcome to the meeting, Mikhail. We've already begun." Dmitri, seated across from Vladimir chimes in, looking displeased.

Mikhail flashes a brief smile, ignoring Viktor’s jab. "Apologies, gentlemen."

He strides to the table, his eyes locking onto mine. "Hey, Rostov."

"Mikhail." I nod, smiling slightly.

Mikhail takes the empty chair beside me, his focus shifting to Dmitri. His expression turns neutral and professional.

“I've not been away from the brotherhood. You can ask Dmitri. I'm up to date with everything that has been going on. I just needed time to mourn my father.” I continue after Mikhail settles down. I did not mourn my father. He's not worth it.

“You don't just walk in and out of the brotherhood as you like, Rostov.” Alexei mumbles under his breath but everyone hears him loud and clear. He's the quiet one, always reserved to himself.

“My father-”

“Your father died. Yes, we know that Nikolai. We were all present at his funeral.” Viktor interrupts me with a calculating gaze in his eyes and I can feel Vladimir smirking at me. That bastard, I'll definitely punch him someday.

“You were absent for six months and that's a serious crime. You can get kicked out.” Dmitri states. I already prepared myself for this. Too bad I'm not getting kicked out.

“Hey, cut my man some slack. This is Nikolai. We can't just kick him out. He's our brother. I say we vote.” Mikhail smiles, raising his left hand.

“I say we forgive him.”

“You just arrived Mikhail, you don't just waltz in here and start casting votes.” Vladimir snarls at Mikhail. What a bitter pill.

Viktor's hand goes up. "He's back. Can we wrap this up?" His gesture of support is accompanied by a glance at his watch, probably eager to return to his daughter. He's a single dad.

“Whatever.” Alexei rolls his eyes as he raises his hand as well.

“That's three to one.” My lips curve up triumphantly as I smirk at Vladimir who glares at me. I lean back, savoring the victory. "Looks like the majority rules, Vladimir."

Pakhan's calm voice intervenes. "Enough. The decision is made. Rostov stays."

Vladimir's glare intensifies, but Dmitri’s stern expression silences him.

Dmitri’s gaze shifts to me, his tone measured. "Rostov, you've tested the brotherhood's patience once. Disappear again, and there won't be a next time. Do you understand?"

I nod, still smirking. "Perfectly, Pakhan."

Vladimir pushes back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "This is a mistake."

Dmitri's warning glance follows Vladimir out of the room.

“Welcome back, man.” Mikhail pats me on the shoulder as I nod briefly at him.

“You were late again.” I whisper at him and the corner of his lips lifts.

“Got caught up shagging.” He mouths back at me and I roll my eyes, turning away from him.

In our line of work, friendships are luxuries we can't afford. Mikhail's the closest thing I have to one. The rest are just temporary alliances, held together by shared interests.