Paying The Bratva’s Debt

innocent for a price.
For now, these, like the ones before them, and the others we’ve taken in tonight, will go to temporary housing I’ve set up. They’ll have food, clothes, medicine, counseling, and anything else they could possibly need. Hopefully one day, they’ll have permanent homes, with real families. They’ll know love again.
I turn back to Doctor Turgenev. “If there’s anything you need, Lada.”
She smiles and puts a motherly hand on my arm. “All I need is the resources, Mr. Komarov.”
“You have them.”
“I know,” she smiles warmly. “The work you’re doing, Mr.—”
“I’m just the money.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re the sword.” She gives me another smile and then excuses herself. I watch her go over to a little girl, who lights up when Lada sits down with her.
Lev gets a call on his cell. He’s short on the phone, and when he hangs up, he’s grinning thinly.
“Yeah?”
“We got him,” he growls, smiling savagely.
“You’re joking.”
“No. He was on the fucking boat in New York.”
My fury burns hot. But this is also good news. “Him” is a man I’ve only known as “Igor” through our coded online messages. But he’s the ringleader of this entire operation. Through him, we’ll be using Bratva contacts of mine in Russia and other places to stomp out the rest of his hive of cockroaches. There are others—other monsters out there prowling for the innocent. But this is one of the bad ones. And tonight, he’ll be crushed under a heel like the insect he is.
“Should we head next door?”
I nod. “Give me one minute.”
I scan the room and let my eyes land on the group of the older kids across the room. One of them, a boy, looks like the oldest. Or at least, he looks like the biggest. He’s the one the rest of the older kids seem to be differing to. I leave Lev and cross the room to the group.
The others seem to sense who I’m there for, and they quietly filter away. He eyes me warily, and I don’t blame him.
“Ty Russkiy? Are you Russian?”
“Da,” he mutters. “But I speak English.”
I smirk. I sometimes forget that my time in the US has softened my Russian, making me sound like it’s my second, not first language to those who speak it.
“Smart boy,” I grunt. “How old are you?”
He stands up to his full height, squaring his shoulders. I’ve still got a foot and probably a hundred pounds on the kid. But I like that he doesn’t cower. This kid has balls.
“Seventeen,” he says proudly.
“Got a name?”
“Do you?”
I chuckle. “You don’t have to fight anymore. You’re safe now. You and the others here, you’ll be taken care of from now on. Food, shelter, school, jobs if you’re looking.”
He bristles, and my jaw clenches.
“Not that kind of job. None of you will ever face that, do you understand? Not here, not while you’re under my protection, which you are. Is that clear? You are free. Truly free.”
I watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. His hands are still balled at his sides.
“Kak vas zovut?” I say gently. “What is your name?”
He shuffles his feet and looks down. “Maxim,” he grunts.
“Maxim, my name is Viktor. You come from St. Petersburg, da?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Me as well.”
He glances up at me curiously.
“I was on the streets in the Murino district.”
Maxim frowns, but then his look softens. “Me too.”
“Rough fucking place. I shouldn’t have called you a boy before. You survive that, you’re a man.”
He grins proudly
“Maxim, I need to go deal with some business. But while I’m gone, can I leave you in charge of the others? They need someone to look up to, to guide them and make sure they know they’re safe. Can you be my man in charge?”
Maxim grins wider. “Da.”
“Good man. And if you need anything, please just ask Dr. Turgenev or any of my men here.”
He nods. I smile and then turn to leave, when he stops me.
“We’re really not being sent back?”
I glance back at him. “Do you wish to go back?”
“Nyet,” he hisses.
“Then no, you won’t. Your home is here now, Maxim.”
He nods. “Thank you, Mr. Viktor.”
I smile back at him and then head over to Lev. He smiles grimly, and the both of us leave the room of our new arrivals. Outside, we walk next door to the second warehouse. This one is guarded by two of my men, armed. Inside the little office vestibule, three more armed men stand ready, smiling eagerly.
We all know what’s happening here tonight. All of the men present are glad for what’s about to happen. But the men with children of their own have a special sort of satisfaction on their faces.
Lev and I step into the main room. Faces look up at us here, too. But these faces do not make my heart break. The look of fear and dismay on their faces gives me great pleasure. The ten bound and gagged men on their knees before me are human waste. Utter trash. I’ll never claim to be a saint. I’ve killed, I’ve brutalized, I’ve terrorized, and I’ve been unmerciful. But these men are pure evil. Tonight, we stamp that evil out of this world.
I look at them coldly. Some look back with the faintest glimmer of hope in their eyes. But if they’re looking for mercy or some sort of communion of their sentence, they won’t find it here. I let my eyes settle on the crew leader of this little group. He smiles hopefully through his gag. I smile back, and his grows wider.
Then I look up to my men standing by the wood-chipper in the middle of the room.
“Cold tonight, da?”
They smile thinly. “Da, boss.”
I turn back to the utter piece of shit on his knees in front of me. He’s trembling, smiling weakly up at me. As if I’m not about to shred him inch-by-inch, slowly, for the horrors he’s helped wrought upon this world. I smile thinly at him.
“Maybe we should cut some wood.”
My men chuckle as