Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) Nicole Fox (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

“The Bratva still controls the entire Western coast. No matter how powerful they may be, their combined strength doesn’t come close to the Bratva’s.”

Maxim nods, acknowledging that I’m right about that.

“Budimir is going to make a show of power,” I continue. “He’s going to force them to stay silent and fall into line. They may not like it, but they won’t directly oppose him.”

“Well, then,” Maxim says, “it’s up to you to give them a choice.”

At that, the adrenaline starts to course through my body.

It’s gametime.

39

Artem

Two quick shots with a silencer takes out the man patrolling the back entrance.

My soldiers catch him before his body even hits the ground. They drag him to a vehicle and throw him into the trunk. A Bratva man takes his place so no one is the wiser.

Just like that, we’re in.

I slip into the hotel through the back entrance with my men behind me. I can hear Maxim coordinating with his contingent of soldiers as we find our way to the lobby.

Adrik walks towards me, having already entered the hotel from a separate entrance to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.

“I have the list,” Adrik says, passing it over to me.

I scan through it, seeing the names of all the men who were in the Presidential meeting suite on the penthouse floor.

The names include every don who’d been invited, as well as their men.

Per tradition, each don has only two men present. It’s an old rule meant to keep anyone from launching a surprise attack against the other dons.

But today, it’s their Achilles heel.

Fucking perfect.

I scan further down the list and come across five additional names. I glance at Adrik with a frown. “What’s this?”

“The waitstaff,” he explains. “Those five have been cleared to be in the room before the meeting officially starts. To serve the wine and food. They’ll be cleared out once the meeting gets going.”

“That’s our in,” I say. “Have they gone up yet?”

Adrik smiles. “All five are currently tied up in the staff quarters,” he says with obvious satisfaction. “Follow me.”

The room Adrik leads us into is secured by two of my men. I walk inside to find the waiters, lying on the floor. They’re unconscious, but they’ve been bound and gagged all the same. Stripped to their underwear, too.

Meaning there are uniforms laid out for five men.

“I want to be in that room with you,” Maxim says, stepping forward.

“As do I,” Adrik requests immediately.

I nod. “The two of you are with me,” I say, before looking around at the rest of my men. “Alexei. Vasyl. You two as well. Get your uniforms on.”

We get dressed quickly. When we’re all suited up, my men grab the food trolleys and we take the main elevator up to the penthouse floor.

Security is mostly stationed inside the Presidential meeting room. Only two men standing outside the door.

“Move fast,” I whisper as we stride down the hall. “We can’t make a sound.”

Adrik and Maxim walk forward with their heads down. One of the security guards raises his hand.

“Hold on,” he barks. “We need to check ID. Make sure you’re cleared for entrance.”

The moment he looks down at his piece of paper, Adrik and Maxim have both struck. Their dagger-wielding hands swipe across their victim’s throats with expert skill, and before either guard can hit the ground, Adrik and Maxim grab them and pull them to the side closet where they deposit the bodies.

I step forward, Vasyl and Alexei flanking me.

“Nicely done,” I say. “From here on out, heads down. And don’t interact unless you have to. We’re free-balling it to the end now.”

We enter the room, making sure to let the doors swing closed quickly so that no one notices the sudden lack of security just outside the door.

I slip in behind my four men and dart to the side of the room.

I stay at the very back of the pack, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone as my men move forward, pushing their food trolleys.

The dons are all seated around a table in the center of the suite. I count each one, ticking their names off the list in my head.

Maggadino.

Ambrosino.

Guzik.

Juarez.

Ruwindu.

Bufalino.

That sadistic motherfucker, Kovar.

And lastly, Budimir.

My men circle the room, but no one pays them any attention. That is the beauty of posing as the staff—you become virtually invisible.

Even my uncle’s eyes slide right off my face as if he’s never seen me before.

I can see a visible fault line between the dons. Budimir sits in the center of the lavish meeting hall, his feeble attempt to conquer the room off to a poor start by the look of things.

On his right sit Maggadino, Ambrosino, Guzik, Juarez and Ruwindu. The legitimate dons. Battle-tested, diplomatic, wise. They look displeased.

On his left sit Bufalino and Kovar. The sewer rats of the underworld. Grinning like rats in a slaughterhouse.

The tension is palpable, but Budimir is projecting an air of calm. I know him well enough to know that it’s all a fucking façade.

He’s treading on thin ice. He may control the Western coast, but his hold is tenuous at best. He’s one turf war away from extinction.

It isn’t enough to have power.

You need to hold it, too.

I notice Ruwindu’s gaze flicker to Kovar with distaste. He is the youngest of the reigning dons, only a few years older than I am.

The snake tattoo snaking up his arm disappears into his sleeve and reappears at the nape of his neck.

It appears to move as he adjusts in his seat. Like it too is pissed at Kovar’s unwelcome presence at a council meeting.

“I’ll have some of that champagne,” Kovar says, clicking his fingers towards Maxim, completely unaware of who he is.

I’ve only ever seen pictures of the asshole, but he’s bigger and more disgusting in real life. His tattoos are just as ugly, a multitude of unintelligible etchings, heavy on the blood-red.

Maxim comes forward, eyes downcast, and offers him a tray of champagne. Kovar snatches one with a flourish and downs half the glass in seconds.

“What