The Bratva's Forbidden pregnancy

Fourteen

Vlad

I leaned back in my chair, a hand under my chin as I narrowed my eyes at Sergei sitting across the table in the conference room. My associates were present as well as we deliberated on the welfare of the business.

Sergei was telling me about the businesses that had paid for our protection services and was filling me in on the progress so far.

Drumming my fingers on the mahogany table, I watched him in silence, and I could see the discomfort in his eyes. He tried to stay composed, but I'd been in the business long enough to know when my presence was making people nervous. He seemed nervous, with good reason anyway.

Sergei was a regional manager, one of the lowest ranks in the organization, and I was...well, I was me. There weren't too many people above me save for the Pakhan, of course. This was the reason Sergei was nervous.

He must have heard about me, and the stories were why he was so uncomfortable. His fear was glaring, but I admired his ability to press on without so much as a stutter.

Sergei was portly with balding hair, and it seemed to me like he was in his mid-fifties. I'd only just met him when the meeting began, but with the way he spoke, I knew the region he managed was in good hands. Notwithstanding his nervousness, he seemed to know what he was doing. We needed more people like him, and that alone earned him my respect.

"From what I can tell, everything seems to be in place," I said to Sergei.

He paused for a moment. "Not everything, sir."

I squinted, waiting for him to continue.

He did. "There's a...uhh." Sergei cleared his throat. "There's a minor resistance from a rival organization who are threatening the businesses that paid us protection fees."

"If they paid us protection fees, then why are they not being protected from this...." I paused and continued almost immediately, "What organization are we talking about anyway? The Italian Mob? The Chinese Triad?"

"None of those. They know better," he replied.

"Then who?" I asked, a little curious.

"They call themselves the White Lions," one of my associates chipped in.

My brows rose instantly at the ridiculousness of the name. "The what now?"

Sergei had a faint grin on his face; clearly, he considered it ridiculous as well. It was by far the lamest name of a gang I'd heard in a long time.

"They must be new in town 'cause I've never heard of them," I said.

"Yes, they are," he replied. "Which is why I wasn't sure how to deal with the situation. Should this resistance have come from another rival organization that's already rooted in the system, then it'd be an all-out war," he explained.

I drew in a deep breath, already feeling sorry for those unlucky bastards. "I take it they don't know who runs this city."

He shook his head. "I don't believe they do."

I scoffed. "Kids. That's what they are: children. And since they're stupid enough to play with fire, they'll get burned."

What are our orders?" Sergei asked me.

"Round them, beat some sense into them, and educate them on who owns this turf. Let them learn the hard way," I said. "Go easy on them, though, since they haven't really overstepped yet. Let's just assume they don't know about us."

He nodded.

"But if they want to be gangster so bad, see if there's any of them that can be useful and bring them into the fold," I added. "Anything else?"
Well, there's something else that I think you should know about," he said.