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Something fierce and protective welled up within me. I took a step forward and gritted my teeth, my entire body tensing with emotion. Beside me, my brothers prepared to back me up, their fierce stares on the man as they assessed the threat he posed.
“Hey,” I called out, my voice firm yet calm, drawing his attention away from Riley. “There’s no need for that. We treat our women with respect here. You will treat her, and everyone here, with that same respect, or you will leave.”
The man’s arrogant shit brown eyes met mine, the challenge clear in his gaze.
I didn’t fucking like it.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want in this place,” he growled. “Riley owes me a debt and she’s going to pay it. I don’t give a fuck if she wants to or not. She owes me.”
The tension in the air crackled like static as the man and I locked eyes. His grip on Riley’s arm tightened, she flinched, and my blood boiled. I took a step forward, my brothers flanking me.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” the man spat, his voice low and menacing, his eyes never leaving mine.
“And you don’t seem to either,” I retorted, my voice equally cold. The Iron Wolf Tavern had fallen into a tense silence, the usual revelry replaced by the sharp edge of impending violence.
“I am Gregor Orlov,” he declared.
I knew that name.
I hadn’t heard of the Orlovs in a long time, mainly because we hadn’t run in the same circles. They had strongholds in both Russia and Chicago, and if Gregor’s presence suggested anything at all, it was that they were potentially making moves here in Boston.
I didn’t like the sound of that, especially when my brothers and I had just decided that it was time to expand our reach into New York.
Gregor’s other hand slid toward the coat of his jacket. There was no doubt in my mind that he was carrying a weapon of some kind, be it a gun or a knife.
I wasn’t afraid of him, armed or not.
“Maxim Morozov,” I responded. “And this is my territory. You will release her and show some respect, or?—”
“Or what, Morozov?” Gregor interrupted, his sneer turning into a malicious grin. “You’ll make me?” In a blur of movement, he pulled a knife from his jacket, the blade glinting ominously under the dim lights of the bar.
The room held its breath. I did the same, drawing my own knife without saying a word. My heart pounded in my chest.
I had my own reputation to maintain. My name meant something here in Boston.
With the help of my brothers, I ran one of the most powerful bratva crime syndicates in Boston. My ruthlessness was known far and wide.
I twirled the gold and ruby ring on my finger, well aware of the rumors that came with it. It was said that my ring contained poison, that I could kill a man with a simple flick of my wrist.
The rumors about me were true.
I cocked my head in Gregor’s direction. It was obvious that he didn’t know my name and what it meant.
He’d learn that very soon.
The Morozovs controlled the North End of Boston.
Our primary activities included high-stakes money laundering and arms trafficking. These ventures were shrouded in layers of legitimate businesses, from nightclubs to private security firms, which masked the underlying currents of our true dealings. Protection rackets were also part of our portfolio, though we styled these operations more as ‘insurance policies’ for local businesses than anything else.
We also controlled a significant portion of the city’s illegal gambling circuits. These ranged from underground poker games to high-tech online betting systems, which generated substantial revenue and gave us leverage over influential figures who might otherwise be beyond our reach.
We were powerful and our ventures didn’t end there. They were always changing and evolving with the times and with my brothers’ help, we grew richer and more influential with every passing day.
“We can settle this here, or you can walk away,” I offered, every muscle tensed, ready for whatever came next.
Gregor laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls. “I think you’ll find I’m not one to walk away from a fight.”
The two of us circled each other like gladiators in the Coliseum. The crowd, having retreated to a safe distance, watched in tense silence.
