He chuckles then. “Oh dear, I don’t think you know Grigory at all. He wouldn’t give two shits if you took his daughter. I’d get back to the drawing board if I were you.”
That would be possible if my men weren’t currently in the process of snatching her from her own home. Keeping my composure, I shake my head. “It’s already done.”
Their eyebrows hitch upward and I know in that moment I’ve lost them both. My plan to snatch Anya is one they don’t believe will work, so there’s no chance they’ll back my plans now.
Stepan stands and Arseny follows suit. “I’m afraid that means this discussion is over,” Arseny declares.
I stand too, giving them a nod of my head. “Fine.”
Stepan claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t look too dejected. You should have done your homework on Grigory and Anya’s relationship. Better luck next time.”
With that parting advice, the two of them walk away, leaving me reeling as the rage inside of me builds. Anya Lebedev is the only thing of note I could find to snatch from that private son of a bitch. He keeps his personal life under wraps so tightly it was impossible to find leverage. The only other option was his son, but he wouldn’t be as vulnerable as Anya.
Grigory Lebedev has always underestimated the Morozov Bratva. He has practically written us off as no threat to his territory, since we preside over Zelenograd, an okrug of Moscow. He thinks we’re rats that wouldn’t dare encroach on Moscow itself, but I’ve always been greedy. I have set my sights on his wealth since the moment I became a pakhan.
Grigory lives like a king attending parties with the richest oligarchs in Russia. It’s the life I want for myself. Lebedev is getting old, and Yulian, his male heir, is lacking for want of a better word.
He’s been searching for a husband for his precious princess for a while now and his efforts were ramping up tonight. A plan I’m going to stop dead in its tracks when my men snatch her from his party, but according to Stepan and Arseny, it won’t do me any good.
Dimitry approaches, looking wary after Stepan and Arseny so abruptly left. “How did it go, sir?”
I shake my head. “Don’t ask, just bring the car around front.”
He bows his head and walks away to fetch the car, leaving me alone and reeling. There’s no going back now. Anya will be snatched tonight by my men, if she hasn’t been already.
* * *
The dripof a pipe leaking echoes through the tunnels as I descend the steps of the old restaurant I’ve rented on the outskirts of Moscow into the unused basement. There’s no way we’d get away with keeping Anya Lebedev in Zelenograd without getting caught, so we’re hiding her in plain sight in Grigory’s territory.
Stepan’s warning keeps repeating in my mind like a broken record.
He wouldn’t give two shits if you took his daughter.
Have we risked everything for nothing?I don’t normally doubt myself, but when it comes to Grigory’s feelings about his daughter, I did make assumptions.
“There’s no chance in hell he’d crack this location,” Konstantin says, sounding very pleased with himself, since he found this place.
I give him an irritated glare because right now I need to be alone to formulate a plan, and it doesn’t help to have him chirping in my ear. “No, it’s highly unlikely.”
His lips purse together as we walk along the dank, moldy corridor toward the little basement room at the end of the maze like tunnels. The drip of the leaking pipe sounds like a clock in the background, counting down the second and minutes, because I know time is of the essence.
As it stands, Grigory Lebdev won’t have a clue that his daughter has been kidnapped, let alone by us. Which means I need to get ahead of it and make the realization that I fucked him over impactful if it’s going to have the desired effect. Even if he doesn’t care about his daughter, I know he cares about his reputation.
How would it look that he can’t even protect his only daughter?
The pakhan of the Lebdev Bratva looks down on me, as if I’m nothing more than a bug he can squash beneath his boot, but all of that will change from today. Today, Lebdev will regret ever underestimating me.
“Why are there so many tunnels down here?” I ask as we turn right.
Konstantin shrugs. “I believe it was a hideout for the bolsheviks in the Russian revolution, much like the tunnels under your home in Zelenograd.”
I nod, as it makes sense. There are a number of building across the city that were used by the political party when they were planning a revolt against the tsar. The ones in Zelenograd I mapped out and purchased every building so that I have a way of moving around without being above ground. It seems only fitting that we would use one of those hideouts in Grigory’s territory now for our own rise against a power that has been in control of Moscows’ underbelly for too long now.
“A fitting place to plan our own revolution.”
Konstantin smirks. “Indeed.” He stops in front of the heavy oak wooden door, which is rotten and probably as old as the building. “Are you ready, sir?”
I nod, uncertain what kind of reaction we’ll face from the princess of the Lebdev Bratva. Little is known about her as Grigory keeps her locked away in his home, away from prying eyes, conserving her innocence until the right buyer makes him an offer, essentially.