The Volki

Chapter Two, Fourteen Years

Do The Conti Family think I'm a fucken idiot? That I would not notice that these statements are part of a written script. Like, seriously! There have been multiple parts where I've read nearly identical descriptions of what happened. Oh, and don't get me started on the unusual phrasing and language used in the reports, which is one of the many signs indicating a cover-up.

Let's just hope I don't have to eliminate them. "Donna." Asya strides into my office, speaking Russian, and grabs my attention. After a brief nod, acknowledging her presence. Asya informs me that Elijah Conti and his son, Elias, are here. I will say this: my actions here in the next few moments have already been determined; nothing can change that now.

"Show them in," I order in Russian, closing my eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath, bracing for what lies ahead.

Allowing even the slightest misconduct without accountability sends the message that anyone can get off scot-free. It reflects poorly on my leadership, indicating an inability on my part to control my men. It not only tarnishes my image but destroys the reputation of The Russian Mafia, aka The Mikhailov Family. I'm just thinking about the potential backslashes that may occur if I don't watch my actions carefully.

My office door swings open again, but this time revealing Elijah and Elias Conti. As I observe them, Elijah stands out in his sleek black suit, emanating confidence. His son, Elias, mirrors his father's style in a sophisticated light gray charcoal suit. Their coordinated black dress shoes and white pocket squares complete their refined appearance.

"Donna," Elijah Conti acknowledges my presence in Russian, bowing down his head with his son. "What can we do for you?" He inquires, carrying a mix of caution and hesitation as he feels the weight of my demanding aura.

Shooting up from my desk, I slam down the report right in front of them. "What. Heck. Is. This!" I exploded in Russian, expressing my evident displeasure. Elias was so shocked he jumped along with his father, who was taken aback by my reaction but wasn't startled. His response was of someone who was expecting something like this to happen.

"D-Donna, I-I can explain." Elijah, a full-grown man, stutters, speaking in Russian in fear of my wrath.

Elijah takes a deep breath, nervously glancing at his son before going on about this. It was all a misunderstanding, and the information got twisted around while working on the report. Moreover, he makes the excuse that the Italians were the ones who initiated the conflict, not him. It's clear that he is only trying to justify his actions. Like, come on, I know you were only defending your honor and reputation, Elijah Conti.

Narrowing my eyes at him, "So, this is all just complications with the Italians?" I retort in Russian, my tone laced with anger. "Do you really expect me to believe that this whole mess is just a 'misunderstanding'?"

Elis, shifting his weight around, speaks up on behalf of his father. "D-Donna, they caught us by surprise." He stutters back to me, making a pathetic excuse, unconsciously acknowledging the fact that they knew what was happening but didn't stop it from escalating even further.

Continuing the conversation for a little longer, Elijah makes several attempts to salvage the situation, but each effort falls short. At the same time, his son, Elias, also tries multiple times to downplay his father's words. However, I refuse to lend an ear to his explanations; things have already been decided.

Why am I even entertaining this nonsense? I have more pressing matters to attend to than listening to these bullshit excuses. Fortunately, I've consulted with my husbands and Ivan prior to this meeting on how to handle Elijah. Considering his role as Capo, the expanding list of enemies he has accumulated, the consistent patterns of disregarding the chain of command, and the history of past incidents that have continually escalated, we have collectively reached the conclusion that the most appropriate course of action is to kill him.