Bratva Beast (Bravikov Bratva #1)

Chapter 10

CYNRIC

I put my feet over the edge of the King-size bed in the large primary suite in the new penthouse I purchased down the street from my old one. My side is almost completely healed, and I can’t wait to get back to my job. My father, my woman, and my brothers have treated me like I’m an invalid. Well, not Thane. He’s been banished. Isabella’s show of strength during the raid turned the tide with my father and our bratva. She’ll naturally take the position as my wife and be what my mother was for my father. She’ll keep her career, but still have a role in our bratva.

Footsteps approach the bedroom, and I can’t help but smile. “Cynric? Are you ready?”

Smirking, I stand up. “Yesterday, you wouldn’t let me leave the bed, and today you’re rushing me to go.”

She smiles. “As I recall, it was you that kept us in bed all day. And you said you wanted to go to my doctor’s appointment.”

My heart picks up speed. “Yes. Then lunch.”

“Sure. But I don’t want to be late, so chop chop.”

An hour later, the doctor finishes her exam and smiles at us from her little round stool. The room has flat gray walls with various flowers painted in a crooked line across the center of the walls. My feet rest on the linoleum floor as Isabella squeezes my hand. The doctor hands Isabella a small stack of papers. “I’m sure you know the drill. Keep taking the prenatal vitamins. Make sure you continue to eat small meals that will continue to help with the last of the nausea. Hopefully that will end soon. Everything looks great. Set up an appointment for four weeks.” She casts her gaze at me. “Will we be seeing you for every appointment?”

I nod. “That’s my plan.”

“Outstanding. Have a nice day.” She steps out of the room, and I stand up slowly, making sure not to jar my side.

“How’s the pain?”

I glower at the question. I do feel pain. That’s new, I didn’t use to notice pain. Loving her, I’m losing my edge.

Isabella nudges my good side with her elbow as we exit the office. “You’re thinking too much. You’re still you, Cynric. Just better.”

I laugh. Laughing isn’t a typical thing for me. Nor a typical thing for anyone I know except her. The darkness I dwelled in seems to have lifted.

“Want that lunch you mentioned?”

I snicker. “When do I not want food?”

“Sometimes you’re busy.”

“I’m not too busy to take the mother of my child to a meal.” I purse my lips and search for softer words. Giving up, I yell. “You need to fucking marry me.”

Isabella’s eyes widen. “That’s not a proposal.”

“I’m just going to bring the damn judge to the penthouse to marry us.”

She grimaces. “Have you heard from Thane?”

“No. He’s around. He pissed me and Papa off, so he’ll have to stay clear for a while.”

“I don’t want there to be friction.”

I pull her arm gently and press my finger under her chin to raise her gaze. “Your position is rock solid. Thane made a mistake, and he’s paying for it. He’ll learn and be better for it.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but he’s always been a bit cold and unpredictable for me.”

“That shit has ended. He will be respectful and protective of you, and if he isn’t, you can knee him in the balls, and I’ll banish him for good.”

She frowned. “That’s not what I want for our family.”

Her words lighten my soul. She already is what my mother was to my father and our family.

ISABELLA

Cynric is glowering at a document on his computer. He’s impatient to get Thane back into the fold. I can’t say I’m surprised at how he acted with me. He’d been with the cartel, and we’ve experienced how they treat women.

Cynric turns and his face loses some of the brooding. “How long have you been standing there?”

I put my hand on my hip. “Maybe you should have a drone that follows me around so you know where I am in the condo, too.”

He laughs. “Fucking hilarious. Maybe I should go back to keeping the doors closed and watching the screens like the paranoid recluse I’ve been.”

I smirk at his sarcasm. “I’m heading to my shift.”

Sadness, followed quickly by irritation, crosses his hard features. “Saxon will be with you.”

“Okay. What are you going to do about Thane?”

“He’s made his bed. He’ll lie in it for a while. We have a dinner tonight.”

“I’ll be back by five.”

The corner of his smile lifts. “You better or I’ll come get you and throw you over my shoulder and carry you home.”

“Yes, my neanderthal.”

He mumbles something about marriage, and I can’t get out of the penthouse fast enough. I know I have to marry him, but it’s still too real. I thought I had escaped a future bratva husband when my father died. One more thing to thank my horrible mother for. If she hadn’t done what she did with those men, I wouldn’t have needed to be rescued by Papa. I can’t change the past, but I have to work out my future.

Saxon leads me out of the elevator to our set of parking spaces in the garage. “You need to marry my brother.”

“That’s none of your business.” I do need to do it sooner or later before Papa gets involved.

“It is my business. He’s a fucking bear. If you were married, it would be one less thing for him to dwell on. Just throw the beast a bone.”

I climb into the SUV and sit back against the leather seat and ponder my life. I don’t want to be without him. We wouldn’t have to do a big production. A Judge, the family, my two friends and shazam. A wedding.

Saxon blows out his breath. “I’ll get one of the ladies to plan it all. A dress shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“Uh. No. My wedding, so I’ll plan it. Where could we have it that’s safe and pretty?”

He purses his lips as he runs through various ideas in his head. Of all the brothers, he’s the biggest thinker. “Outside or a rooftop?”

“Outside.”

“A garden or a vineyard?”

I imagine Cynric and I standing in a sea of color. Me in a white dress and him in a dark suit. In my image, Thane is missing. “Fuck.”

Saxon blurts. “What?”

“Nothing. When could we have the wedding?”

“Really?” He eases the SUV out of the garage and onto the street. “Anytime. I can make that happen. There’s a cool vineyard about five hours from here. We can get you a dress this week and everything else. You have friends, right?”

I scoff while rolling my eyes at his stupid question. “Of course I have friends. You’ve met them.”

“So, we’ve figured out a place, dress, friends, you just need rings and someone to drive you all there.”

He parks the SUV and walks around to open her door. I beam. “Well, you’re the chauffeur, so that’s covered.”

“Ha, ha. Izzy. I’m not the damn chauffeur.”

I flick my head at the SUV. “Uh, huh.” I chuckle as he mutters, “fuck,” while we walk into the hospital. The resignation in his voice makes me smile. It sucks to realize your life has been turned into something you don’t want. The question is whether you can make it your own.

CYNRIC

I growl as I answer. Saxon’s calling. Fuck. Everything better be good with Isabella. “Hello?”

“Hey, bro.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I talked to Izzy about a wedding on the way to the hospital.”

My ears ping on the word wedding, and I stop scrolling on my computer. “What?”

“She seemed agreeable to marrying you.”

My heart speeds up as my mouth dries. “Wait? You proposed to my woman for me?”

“No, dumbass. I told her she needs to marry you because you’re being a beast, and I’m tired of it.”

“That’s all it took?”

Saxon is silent. “I guess. We talked about Hugo’s vineyard and getting a dress and stuff.”

“She agreed?”

“Yeah. You need a ring and a cool proposal. Like the ones on social media that they show on the reels. You know something epic.”

My head spins through scenarios. “Epic?”

“Yeah. A gondola ride or a carriage ride in Central Park or a sky writer.”

“Dude. You are such a girl.”

Saxon scoffs. “I’m not. I just like the romantic things.”

“Okay. Well, speaking of romantic.” I chuckle a sadistic sound. “I need to go kill someone, so keep an eye on my future wife.”

“Yes, Cynric.”

I end my call and tap my cell phone into my palm. Would it really be that easy? I find myself stewing about Isabella instead of gearing up for the scene I’ll find at the warehouse. I grimace. Climbing out of the backseat of the SUV, my phone rings again. “Papa?”

“When are you marrying the mother of my grandchild?”

“Soon.” Get off my back. “We’re thinking about the vineyard.”

“Just get it done.”

I hand my phone to my driver as I roll up my sleeves to enter the warehouse.

The large two-story entry of the cold, dark, concrete building leads to a set of doors and a stairway leading either up or down. I’m going down. My hands itch to feel bones crack as I hit something. Trudging down the stairs, adrenaline spikes in my blood. Fucking traitors. I thought we’d ended this with the last one. The enforcer opens the steel gray door as I plow through.

Anatoly grins. “We’ve got his wife on ice. She told us about his meeting with the feds.” He flipped his hand at the man sitting tied to a chair. Blood trickles down the side of his face from a gash in his temple.

I smirk. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

“No, boss. I wanted to get anything I could from him before the players moved out of position. We missed him the last time we dealt with a traitor. I wanted to send the guys to collect anyone that had helped him before they slipped out of our reach.”

I nod as I step into the room. The floor slopes from all sides to a large floor drain. The chair legs surround the drain, welded to the floor plate. We don’t want the chair to tip while we’re beating the traitor. It’s sad to say, but the smell of urine and copper from the blood doesn’t register. When I was lying in my bed after my second burn surgery, I tried to count the number of people I had killed. Then I couldn’t distinguish between men I’d killed and those I’d ordered to be killed.

“Please, please.” The small blond man begged. “I didn’t do anything.”

I ask Anatoly in Russian about the man’s wife and he shakes his head. “Okay.” I turn back to the traitor. “You haven’t asked about your wife.”

The man’s swollen eyes widen. “What?”

“Your wife. We have her. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll slit her throat. Then I’ll find your parents and do it to them.”

He rocks in the chair. Distress dripping off him. “You can’t.”

I laugh. “Who else has been talking to the feds?” The man stares at me. My blood boils. He doesn’t understand I’m not kidding. I throw my fist at his cheekbone. The crack pierces the silence of the room followed by a scream from the man. “Who?”

“Georgie.”

“Georgie?” My eyes flick to Anatoly, who grabs his phone and steps outside the door. “Who else?”

The man swings his head back and forth. “No one. Please. I don’t want to die.”

Pathetic. “What about your wife?”

“Do you really have her?”

I nod. “Yes.” Anatoly walks back in, and I tip my head at him. “Photo of the wife?”

He walks over with his phone extended. A full-color image of a woman hanging from a hook with her arms extended and tied. The ropes overlapping the hook. Melted makeup on her face resembles a tired and overworked clown.

The traitor stares at the phone. “She didn’t do anything.”

“No. But you did.”

“I got caught with drugs, and I made a deal. I didn’t give them anything on the Bratva, just on the cartel guys.”

I grit my teeth. “A traitor is a traitor.” Shaking my head, I pick up a knife off the table and jam it into his thigh. His screams make me smile. Karma is a wonderful thing. Fuck us and I kill you.

He thrashes in the chair as blood pools around the knife and drips on the floor. The slope directs the blood in a scarlet river. “I don’t know anything else. I didn’t tell them about you. Please don’t hurt my wife.” He continues to ramble until I’ve heard enough.

“Anatoly, send men to get Georgie.” I grab the long blade and run it across his neck, making sure the blood spurts in the other direction, keeping the blood away from me. The man gurgles for a moment before his head falls forward.

Anatoly picks his head up from his phone. “And the wife?”

“Did she see anyone?”

“No.”

“Then let her go.”

“Okay, boss.”

I stroll across the room to wash my hands as the two clean-up men begin the process of dismembering the body. They’ll clean the room and dispose of the tools and body in a steel drum full of lye. They’ll heat the drum to three hundred degrees for three hours to reduce the body to liquid. One of the many things Thane learned during his time with the cartel in Latin America.

The door opens as I dry my hands. I toss the towel into the burn pile. The guys will burn anything left in the building incinerator.

My driver holds up my phone. “Pakhan.”

I step to the man and grab my phone. “Yes?”

“When’s this wedding?”

“I will let you know.”

My father pauses which is never a good sign. “I’m sending Irina. She’ll bring dresses, shoes, and the other stuff. You need to go see Arkadii. He’s expecting you to choose the ring. I had him set aside the sapphires.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Anatoly will handle George. You get her married.” The phone disconnects as I take a large breath.