Bratva Meaning Novels & Stories

'So, where else would I, Tavisha Khushanov, spoiled, pampered daughter of the billionaire Bratva Pakhan, a true Bratva Principessa, be? My best friend, Svetlana, joked as she ordered another jug of our favourite cocktail and we headed for our table in the VIP area. Nadia and Annika, our other friends, were already sitting there, surrounded by a gaggle of filthy rich CEO's [Daddies ' companies, of course.]

I enquire, needing to know who it is we are up against. “Fuck, I don’t know. Does it matter?” “Yeah, it matters.” Nathanial growls with irritation, stepping up to the iron rods. “The Serbs we can handle, no sweat. But, the Bratva… That’s a fucking game changer.” “Then I guess you mother fuckers better prepare like you are going to war with the Bratva then, yeah?” A homicidal snarl pours from Nathanials’ throat, “and you better watch your tongue before you fucking lose it.” Nathanial turns to face me, placing his hand on my shoulder, and he gives it a light squeeze. “We may have to postpone your wedding after all.”

With one hand, she brushed a thick curl over her shoulder, then patted the bed at her side. Eager for the truth, I dropped onto the bed again. Wide eyed and bright with anticipation as if I'd won some victory. I'd only made a single right move in the game. Annika placed her hand on mine, shoulders dropping in defeat. When she met my eyes again, a jolt ran down my spine and twisted at the base of my stomach. "Have you ever heard of the Bratva?" "Maybe?" I whispered, daunted by vague memories of that word.

Otherwise, he would be rendered incapable of carrying out the most simplest of daily routines while she consistently plagued his mind. Yes, he would have to most certainly make it his top priority once he landed in Australia. Soon enough a dark scheme begins to delineate within his wicked mind. I won't be simply tasting you this time Hazel Kashani. I would be swallowing you whole more like it. ____ Glossary; • Avtoritet: a Russian term for "authority" • Bratva: a Russian Mafia term for "brotherhood" • Molotov Ruskaya Mafia: Molotov Russian Mafia

Then they began doing what Sethlzaar considered the unreasonable. Whenever they came upon a city, Bratvi would divide them into two groups. The first group—which he would lead—would march through the city in an uneven mixture of priests and soldiers. Every time the soldiers would vastly outnumber the priests. While the second group would go around the city and they would converge at the other side of the city’s border.

The thought that Macauley had invited me to his office more than to prove a point for the first time that day occurred to me. “What are you trying to say?” I asked and he sure took his sweet time before meeting my gaze, those cunny green eyes of his flickering to the laptop in front of him. “Heard that most of the men in the Bravta had taken to the trafficking of little children as sex slaves in other countries?” He was the second in command in the Bravta for more than a decade and hence knew more than anyone that if he was asking for information, he sure as hell won’t be getting any from me.

She mutters what can only be a spell, then breaks through the estate barrier and disappears in an SUV. With Kaia passed out in the back seat, Marle’s carefully placed arrogance slips and I see fear in her eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” she exclaims, punching the steering wheel. “Why did Vladimir have to be born with Vasilisa’s soft heart?!” Vasilisa Volkova was my mother and was known to be a soft-hearted Alpha, but that didn’t stop her from being ruthless. She ruled with a heart of gold and earned her title. Marle calls someone on the hands-free, and a familiar voice answers. “Mistress.”

He frowns at my words and excited smile but nods. “Okay, name your price,” he says. “Teach me about the Bratva,” as soon as the words left my mouth, he almost veered off the road and stepped on the brakes. My hand shot out to the dashboard, and I couldn’t help the laugh that came after. Viktor looked at me as if I had gone mad. “Do you want Kai to kill me?!” He exclaims.

"Fascinating, Toli. All right. I'll play along. Is this mission really about Santana Dioletti?" He furrowed his brow but as good of an actor as he was, I could see the single flash of recognition. Interesting. "The mob boss out of New Orleans who's ceremoniously conquered a good portion of the population in at least six states?" I continued, goading him. "Ah, the ugly pig as the Bratva call him." "You know about the Bratva." My challenge was met with a roll of his eyes. "Only babies do not know of the Bratva in my country. They are much more violent and brutal than any of your...kingpins. However, in a remote manner, this Santana pig does have something to do with the bastard's choice, but o

I admitted, pulling her phone out and placing it in the centre of the table. “I was once told that men like you always have a reason for doing these... torturing people. So, help me understand. What did he do to make you hurt him so brutally?” I regarded her while she waited for an answer, her eyes wandering around the cafe but not meeting mine for a single second. Maybe the thought of Leona had driven me toward her, but Abigail was nothing like that traitor. “That man was of the Bratva. They are—” “Russian Mafia.” She gave a half-shrug. “I know. They’re very notorious, from what I’ve read.”