Golden Retribuition

By Elizabeth Bezerra

After losing his father, the former Pakhan, Dmitri Milanovic finds himself in front of the Bratva, the Russian Brotherhood. However, some people aren't happy with that decision.

Boris Kamanev believes that being at the head of the Mafia must be for merit, not something passed from father to son. And he will do anything to defeat Dmitri and take his place.

Kyara Smirnov lost her parents as a child and was raised by the Kamanev family. Her dream is to complete the majority and leave the Bratva; This is not her world.

One had the mafia as an extension of itself; the other saw the mafia as an instrument of oppression, and she was thrown into a war she didn't want.

And in the struggle for power, strangely it is the overwhelming and unexpected love that dictates the rules ... for good and for evil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jun 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071550687

Book preview

GOLDEN

RETRIBUITION

In The Mafia's Arms Series

Book

––––––––

E L I Z A B E T H  B E Z E R R A

Author of the Series New York

Copyright © 2018 Elizabeth Bezerra

Copyright © 2018 Editora Bezz

Title: Golden Retribution

Revision: Vânia Nunes

Cover: Denis Lenzi

Translation English: Camila Peixoto

This is a work of fiction. Its purpose is to entertain people. Names, characters, places and events are products of the authors' imagination. Any resemblance to real names, dates, and events is mere coincidence.

This work follows the rules of the New Spelling of the Portuguese Language.

All rights reserved.

The storage and/or reproduction of any part of this work is prohibited by any means - tangible or intangible - without the written consent of the authors.

Copyright infringement is a crime established in law no. 9.610 / 98 and punished by article 184 of the Penal Code.

Índex

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Author's Note

Synopsis

Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Note

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction only with the intention of entertaining the reader. Talks, actions, and thoughts of some characters do not match those of the author. The book contains explicit erotic descriptions, graphic depictions of physical, verbal, and undue language violence. Suitable for people over 18 years old.

As history happens in Russia, the meaning of foreign words is found in a glossary offered at the beginning of the book.

About trademark ™, the author acknowledges the legitimate owners of the companies and brands cited in this fiction due credit, thanking the privilege of citing them for the high degree of importance and credibility in the market.

Characters and their order of importance

Kapitan – First Elite

Kapitan – Second Elite

Boyevik – Soldiers

Shestyorka - Begginer

The important families of the book:

Glossary

Otets: Fat.her.

Mat': Mother.

Beret: Beret.

Blagadaryú: Appreciate.

Daragáya: Dear.

Mílaya: Honey (romantic sense).

Bratstvo prezhde vsego: The Brotherhood above all else (Oath and motto of the brotherhood)

Kheruvim: Cherub.

Suka: Bitch (suki: bitches)

Zavtrak: Breakfast.

Ne: No.

Da: Yes.

Sinochek: Son.

Doch: Daughter.

Bolotnik: A filthy beast that lives in the swamp, disguised as a mountain, devouring its victims.

Svolach: Idiot.

Vot eto pizdets: What the hell!

Pizdets: Damn it!

Idi na hui: Fuck You!

Mudak: Man who behaves recklessly.

Gandon: The word is used in reference to an unpleasant person but is rather vulgar, can be used as a street name for condoms.

Zhizn 'ebet meya: Life is fucking with me.

Ye-bat: Damn!

Suchka: Bitch, or a fondness for women to curse like: You bitch. The word is more used among women.

Gavno: Shit!

Pakhan: Boss / Papa

Avtoriyet: Second in command.

Sovietinik: Counselor

Derzhatel: Staff

Obshchak: Security group.

Obschaka kniga: Secretary.

Boyevik: Warriors / Soldiers

Shestyorka: Beginners / associates

Pidoras: Gay

Kisca: Kitten

Sirniki: dessert, the dough can be fried or baked, stuffed with cottage cheese.

Chak-chak: It is made with dough from wheat flour and raw eggs in the form of toothpicks and balls. Ready-made Chak-chaks are placed on a plate and watered with warm honey-based syrup.

Bili: a kind of pancake batter.

The Brotherhood above all else

Chapter 1

Dmitri Milanovic

Moscow, Russia

Black. White. Grey.

It was late winter and not just because we were leaving a cold season that these colors set the tone for my day today. I saw the black in the expensive suits of the men who followed the procession, in their women's dresses, in the elegant cars that were standing in line in the cemetery, in the now sealed coffin and being led beside me. I saw the white in the starched shirts, the handkerchiefs reaping the tears that the ladies carried to the face, the flowers in the tombs where we passed. The gray was in the sky growing darker and cloudy. On the dry and dead leaves, forming a rug on the floor. The gray was in the feeling that carried inside me, in the farewell. At the farewell to Pakhan, who for fifty years, kept our Bratva strong, safe, protected and prosperous, and now it was up to me, as his son, to continue the legacy.

We are here this afternoon to- The ceremonialist began the final homage, but my thoughts were far from his words.

It was two nights ago when I visited my father's room after an indisposition that took him to bed after dinner. In the presence of his sovietinik, on one side of his bed, and the family doctor at the head, I had the shocking news that he was too weak to resist until dawn. Then I knelt on the other side of his bed and with his weak, aged hand clutching mine, I received his ring and made my oath as the new Pakhan.

"Bratstvo prezhde vsego." The brotherhood above all else.

That was our motto. That was my life. My destiny.

But unlike an ordinary person, living the mourning wasn't an option for me. I was no longer the crown prince in training, being prepared with exhaustion, now I was the emperor.

I heard the man finish, and like the people around me, I repeated his last words: "So be it.

Little by little the people were leaving, sighs were diminishing, murmuring ceased, silence and the security around me and behind me became my sole companionship before the mausoleum that now housed my parents.

Finally together, said the headstone he ordered to be made as soon as the equipment that kept my mother alive for months, after she had been in a car accident when I was twenty-eight, were turned off. She had been kept all this time, waiting for the moment when they would be together for eternity.

Mikhail Milanovic was a firm, intelligent and admirable Pakhan, a righteous husband and a good father. He was a man honored both in the Bratva and in his home. It was my duty to follow in his footsteps. And as if to squeeze the depth of these last thoughts, lightning struck the sky, illuminating it strong, raindrops reinforced the moisture on my face.

"Pakhan?" an umbrella was opened over my head and Vladic stood beside me.

Vladic Guriev. We grew up together, we were trained together and we have a strong bond of trust, respect, and friendship. Now he was my avtoriyet, which would make my orders to be fulfilled and executed. He would also have the power to command everything, whenever there is a need for me to leave. And I was now your Pakhan. The boss of everything.

It's not safe to stay long, he warned in a firm but respectful tone.

There was a rigid scheme of security to keep me safe and men willing to lay down their lives to secure mine, but staying in an open place made me an easy target for snipers to hit the center of my forehead full. As a new Pakhan, he could be both grandly loved and hated.

"We can go now, Vladic.

A black limo was waiting for me on the street when we left the graveyard. It wasn´t the car I liked to use. I would normally use the Lada Kalina, but racing around with a sports car was not something I could continue to do when I wanted to. Besides, it was necessary that I behave as the occasion demanded.

How are preparations for tomorrow night? I asked Vladic as soon as we got in the car.

Nikolai made sure everything's going as planned, he said, reaching for something inside the bar.

Nikolai Savin was for years the sovietinik, the adviser, of my father, now I would count on his services and loyalty. He had a lot of experience and his advice would be treated with respect, as would be welcome according to need, but by putting the ring on my finger with our symbol, the four-pointed, overlapping, bicolored stars in black, I made it very clear that I had my own ideas of how to rule.

––––––––

"All the kapitany were summoned for the swearing-he handed me a vodka, pouring himself out." Nikolai left early to organize the last details.

All Bratva knew that by right I would assume the role of Pakhan, but would only be consolidated when each kapitan of First and Second elites swore to me the next day. For today they would mourn and respect my father's death.

"And what did the obshchak chief find out so far?"

Ivan assures that everything is still under control, he replied. "Everyone knows he spent years preparing. The command is yours by right and merit.

What he said made sense rationally. But it was all too quiet. When the crown is passed on, there are always some dissatisfied and with their own philosophies. The duty of my obschaka is to observe the action of the kapitany of first and second elites, to guarantee their loyalty and that none become too powerful.

Tell them to continue to observe.

As you wish, Dmitri. He refilled my dose of vodka, pouring himself a little more then.

In public, under the watchful eye of everyone, I will always be your Pakhan, but at times like this, that we could be just ourselves, we were just Dmitri and Vladic, the boys who grew up together and became men with heavy responsibilities falling on their shoulders.

"Bratstvo," Vladic said, raising his glass.

"Prezhde vsego." I raised mine.

Everything was white, gray and black today. But I know that soon the color I will see the most, the color we most enjoy seeing would be red.

Blood.

Chapter 2

Kyara Smirnov

It had been more than four hours now that Sonya had escaped through the window of my room to go to her furtive and romantic encounter. And she had sworn that wouldn´t take more than two hours to come and go. I should have known by now that when it came to Gregori Pavlov, she could never keep her word for long. Sonya always put me in confusion since we were kids. I was more than naive for still believing her. I was very dumb.

Then, after spending the last twenty minutes circling the room, I decided to get something from the bar in the office in the hope that it would calm me down. If we were both going to get beat up by the otets Fjodor Kamanev when he and Boris returned from the funeral of Pakhan Milanovic, that at least my body was anesthetized.

I walked down the empty corridor and walked quickly to the stairs. I went down cautiously the stairs, didn´t want to find some employee circulating, nor bump into Boris if he returned shortly.

I grew up with Sonya and Boris and was raised by her parents, Fjodor and Olenka Kamanev, while she was alive since my parents were mistakenly executed when they left the couple´s house, after a visit. The Kamanev house was attacked when I was eight. I was the only survivor because my beloved father protected me with his body inside the car. They didn't deserve to die like this.´ They've never had anything to do with the Mafia. My mother was a pediatrician and my father, an engineer. The only thing that linked them to the Kamanev family was an old friendship.

And over the next few years, as I grew up watching this mafia world spin, I learned something vital: you can´t be on both sides. You were in or out of the Bratva. Indecision could cost you your life. That´s why, after completing my 21st birthday and receiving the money my parents left for me, I would leave Moscow. I would go to England or maybe to France. I would have a small but comfortable home. Maybe I would become a teacher and, most important of all; I would own my life.

I had already spoken to otets Kamanev a few weeks ago, and though he had raised me as his daughter, I knew my parents would have liked me to have the right of choice. From their memory or from the feelings that always connected them, he had promised to think about considering my request to leave, when, in fact, he expected me to be married soon to some First Elite kapitan. The Kamanev were Second Elite and only through marriage could they change their hierarchy. And that happens a lot in that environment. Marriages were treated as a business. And it was all I didn´t want, a Bratva wedding, for that there was Sonya and Boris. I didn't even carry the name Kamenev.

I was so lost in these thoughts that I only realized that the office door was ajar and there were people inside when I heard the first shout as I approached.

"I'm still the kapitan," Kamenev otets bellowed. I went a little closer to the window and saw his hands hit the table. He had his back to me, but the shiver in his shoulders made it clear enough how nervous he was. Do as I command, Boris!

I looked at Boris, who was facing his father, as he walked away, going to the window. The cold stare, full of hatred and resentment that he had addressed to his father before, made my blood fall a few degrees.

You're weak. All Kamanev are weak, he said, gritting his teeth. "That's why we never cease to be Second Elite, and we will never reach Pakhan  if we remain subservient."

There is a hierarchy, Sinochek, because every organization needs its laws and rules, Fjodor said in a softer tone. Dmitri is the heir, and since I swore loyalty to his father fifty years ago, you will do the same to him tomorrow night. Do you understand?

"Da, otets, he agreed, but his eyes were still burning with anger. As you wish. After all, you're still Kapitan Kamanev."

I felt something like a lousy foreboding engulf my heart at the last bitter words. And it was this lousy feeling that made me walk away from the door, running back toward my room. I unlocked the door clumsily and leaned against it.

What happened? You seem to have seen a Bolotnik. Sonya emerged from the bed, where she took off her black boots. " Did otets find out that I ran away?

No, but it was close, I grumbled, coming out of the door. Two hours, Sonya. You said it would only take two hours.

She smiled and went under the bed to get her clothes hidden. She had run away from the window dressed all in black, wearing a beret to hide her hair. We had the same height and almost the same physical bearing, yet I had more generous curves than her. And the hair could quickly deliver us. While Sonya had the silver wire at shoulder height, mine was long and gold. And her eyes were also a darker shade of blue.

Gregori didn´t want to let me go.

And you didn´t want him to let you.

One day you'll be in love and, she growled, you'll understand what it feels like.

I knew the strength of loving someone, I saw it in my parents, and because I believed in something as significant as love, I always gave in and helped Sonya. But she fell in love and dispassionate faster than she changed her clothes. I saw this more as a way of rebelling. She knew the time would come when her father would seal her fate. And that's why I felt sorry.

If Gregori Pavlov were the great love of her life, as she had said in recent weeks, he would never be allowed to ask for her hand in marriage. He was nothing more than a boyevik, a soldier taking orders from his father, Kapitan Kamanev.

If you love Pavlov, you know you'll have to make a choice soon enough, I warned her because I was worried about what might happen if her forbidden romance was discovered.

Daddy is not the same anymore, Kya, she said with complete confidence in her words. He is old, and his heart is more malleable.

But what about Boris? He would never allow it, Sonya.

Sonya's brother was ambitious, violent and cruel. Boris would be able to do anything to achieve his goals. I have noticed this trait in him since he was a child. Although he was treating me much more gently than he had done in my childhood for more than two years, I preferred to stay as far away from him as possible. There was something in Boris's gaze, and especially in the way he looked at me, which I didn´t like.

I can negotiate with him. If I help him have something he wants, he can give me what I want in return.

I loved Olenka like a mat '. It was me who took care of her during the illness that took her from us last year. And Fjodor, in his way, was a good otets for me. I also had a special affection for Sonya, but I couldn´t close my eyes, the Kamanev had an incredibly selfish way of getting what they wanted.

I felt something like a bad feeling again. Bargaining with Boris would be like inviting a bolotnik for tea in the garden.

Don´t play with your brother, Sonya. I heard Boris arguing with father just now, I informed her, They disagreed over tomorrow's oath.

Boris thinks it's wrong for Dmitri Milanovic to be the new Pakhan, she said, leaving me in surprise.

––––––––

Sonya was never too close to her brother, for he had always exercised his right to control her. Why were they now exchanging confidences? Boris saying that he was against Pakhan Milanovic was a grave transgression, punishable by death.

I never came across the heir Milanovic and didn´t even know what he was like, but I saw his father a few times. A handsome, cold-eyed man, but was running the news that he could be fair to anyone loyal to the fellowship. Dmitri Milanovic would be Pakhan's third generation, and apparently, all the kapitany were pleased that it would continue.

"My brother said that being Pakhan must be by merit and not hereditary," Sonya continued, undoing the braid in her hair.

For all I know, Milanovic spent years preparing for it.

But it's not what Boris thinks, she said, coming to me with a worried look. Never tell anyone that, do you understand, Kya?

Who could I tell? I didn´t have many friends out of the house. Roman, the gardener's son, the only boy who I ever confessed interest, Boris had him executed, making it look like an accident. And the young man had only confessed his feelings for me and kissed my lips on my sixteenth birthday. After that day I avoided all men, fearing that another might have the same end. Although it was not my fault, that Boris was insane, I felt it. It was after that that I began to look at Boris differently and began to avoid him whenever I could. But living in the same house, that was impossible.

And that was one of the biggest reasons I wanted Fjodor to free me at the age of twenty-one. He wouldn´t stay between us forever. It was either that or marry some Kapitan he chooses.

Who would I tell, Sonya? I walked trembling to the bed. That can only end in a bloodbath. If you love Gregori, I think you should get away. I can help you.

And live hiding or being hunted? She laughed bitterly, continuing to dwell on the subject. "No, Kyara. If there is anything I learned from my father was to negotiate. I help Boris in what he wants, and in return, I'm allowed to stay with Gregori.

And how do you plan it? I asked more and more alarmed, what Boris had of ruthless cruelty, Sonya had to recklessly. Seduce Milanovic and kill him when he is asleep? So does Boris take his place?

I hadn't thought about that. Sonya opened a smile that shocked me. "That might be a good idea, though I had imagined something else.

––––––––

Climbing the command for treason is no better and more dignified than the hierarchy, I tried to warn her. Much less honorable. And everyone knows how the Milanovic are in that regard. If Dmitri is equal to the father fifty percent, it will be the end of the Kamanev family and anyone who joins this stupid idea.

She wrapped her clothes together and shook her hair back.

I don´t care, she said, going toward the door. "Pakhan by right or by force, it's not a decision for us. What interests me is what I can do with this idiot guerrilla. We're not entitled to anything, Kyara. We are just princesses locked in beautiful castles like this. And I fight with the weapons that are given to me."

She was right about how the women inside the Bratva were seen. Or how the women within her family were seen. We were well cared for, and we had almost everything we could wish for, less freedom and choice. We were like polished jewels, being drawn and put back into the box after use.

Beautiful. Cold. Expensive.

I didn't want to be like this. I wasn't like that. My body, heart, and soul would be offered to the man whom I came to love and chose to be by my side. I needed to have a new conversation with Fjodor Kamanev and have been guaranteed the promise of my departure before it was too late for me.

Chapter 3

Dmitri Milanovic

––––––––

The hall was ready, and I could see from my window that it was starting to fill. Seventeen kapitany of First Elite and twelve of Second. Soon they would all kneel before me, kiss my ring, and make their oath of eternal fidelity. Our laws were founded within Vory v Zokone, thieves within the law. Breaking this oath was charged with life. He was the most important code of Conduct among the Thieves.

"Pakhan? Nikolai appeared in my room. We're all ready when you are."

I stepped away from the bullet-proof window where I spent the last minute watching the busy courtyard and stared at the man standing at the door of my room. His hair was completely gray; his wrinkled face betraying his life and experience. Clear eyes that seemed to be kind, but when they have to, they knew how to be glacial. The dark suit covered most of the tattoos he had under his neck. The Bratva were known for their strength, ferocity, ruthless judgment and many tattoos for the body, the main being the symbol with our motto around it. By becoming Vor, you won the right to have yours.

Come on, I told him, who promptly followed me.

I went down the stairs and through two corridors, entering my office through a private door. Vladic was already there waiting for me. Although I was sure of his loyalty and commitment to the fellowship, as men of my confidence, Nikolai and he would take their oath first. I occupied my high chair and waited for them to kneel before me.

"The heart of Bratva is the Pakhan. My body will always be your shield, Vladic said his honorable mentions. I swear loyalty to Dmitri Milanovic and my life belongs to you. Bratstvo prezhde vsego"

He took my ring to his lips, finalizing his oath.

"I honor you as Avtoriyet," I told him.

Nikolai continued to take the same oath, and I officially made him my Sovietinik. He stood beside me as Vladic moved to the double door, opening it for the kapitany and his second-in-command to come in and honor the Brotherhood, taking their oaths to me.

––––––––

First, the 17 kapitany of the First Elite, because of its importance in the hierarchy. Then the 12 of the Second Elite, totaling 29 kapitany under my command.

"Pakhan Milanovic," said the older man in his seventy years, and on his right side is a young man in his mid-twenties.

Sacha Ribakov, had no male heirs and his right arm was his nephew Alek Ribakov. The boy performed his role well, closing the oaths, the two left quietly, after my signal that they were dismissed. The Ribakov managed the entries and exits of the arms negotiated with the Ukrainians, as well as false license forms to buy firearms and the clandestine offices.

The Avdeev, Nikolai whispered by my side, seconds before the doors opened.

The Avdeev took care of the cattle, and when I spoke of livestock, I was referring to people. They distributed them through our factories, young and beautiful women for entertainment in casinos and houses, others with fewer skills became servants.

After Kapitan Avdeev and his son left, they entered the Lúkin (bribery), the Kireev (money laundering), the Baranov (frauds and appropriations) and the twelve remaining First Elite kapitany, all of them dealing with some activity within the Bratva .

The Second Elite kapitan, Fjodor Kamanev, and his son, Boris, were the last to enter.

"Pakhan." The old man bowed respectfully, but his son, for a few seconds long enough for me to notice, seemed resilient as he bowed.

I studied Boris intently while his father took the oath that didn´t seem to make him very happy. To some extent, I could understand it. Young people were idealists. I was also when in training, exposing and arguing hotly with my father whenever I wanted him to put into practice some new idea that could benefit us. But I also knew how to listen and wait for the right moment for every action. Being cautious wasn´t synonymous of weakness. Mikhail Milanovic taught his son and new Pakhan a lot.

"Bratstvo prezhde vsego! said the old man, looking hard at his son. Boris?"

"Pakhan, said the young man who bowed to me, Bratstvo prezhde vsego."

They withdrew, and Vladic closed the doors. I allowed myself to breathe normally. I loosened the knot of my tie, loosened the buttons of my shirt on my wrist, and tore off the elastic that kept my hair tightly attached.

What do you think? Nikolai asked while Vladic fetched a bottle from the bar.

I knew all the kapitany of First and Second elites personally, and most of the men of their confidence, I studied them carefully through the dossier with more than five hundred names that the derzhatel had sent me soon after the death of my father.

Being