Intermission - Dimitri Baranov

There is a war brewing.

Our territory was breached, and we had a traitor in our midst. Father called for a meeting this morning, and I’ve been itching to sink my knives into Outfit scum since I saw the pain in my Amaranthe’s eyes. They had no idea who they have gone up against. The New York Bratva have been laying low for over 20 years, but I think it’s time we go back to our Russian roots. No more playing nice.

I arrive early and walk into what was left of the country home’s hall, asking Lev and Boris to check the perimeter. I spot my father pacing the floor and mumbling to himself, this could never be a good sign. Approaching him cautiously, I call out. “Papa?” and his head and arm whip up towards me and I notice he’s holding his Beretta. I put my hands up in surrender, “Uspokoysya, Papa, it’s me. What’s going on?” I ask him to calm down while walking towards him and intending to take the gun a