Bratva Russian Mafia Novels & Stories

I hated them even before my brothers, and I returned back to Vegas and reclaimed our territory from the fucking Bratva and insolent Turkish fuckers that had been fighting for power. “Burn the place down,” I slanted a glance at Milo and Ronan. We had been on the Bratva case for two days straight without any good night's rest. And unfortunately, Savio was in Portland working undercover for Frizz and Dimitri had returned back to New York to tend to these same Russian fuckers. With their previous partnership with the Slovakia Mafia, who murdered Dimitri's father and brother and wiped out Elena's Duval family, I really could blame him for being extra cautious. One of these days, we will figure ou

They will make her bleed, and I don’t think she will pass the tests. “We keep an eye on the situation, leave it with me, let me contact them and find out their plan for her. They won’t go too far with her.” I hope. I grab my phone and dial the number and wait for the call to connect. “Matteo, my boy. What do I owe the pleasure of this call?” his rough, deep Russian accent is thick in my ear. Dimitri Volkov. He is the head of every Bratva family and rules over the Russian military and Kremlin.

“Text me the names. I need to speak to my men and my family about what they might know. My father did business in the southern part of the United States for years, abandoning it because of border issues. However, what I know about the Russian mafia is that they are brutal and when they set their sights on a territory, they don’t give a shit who is in the way.” I nodded. “I need to get into the file Christine had. Maybe I’m wrong about what she was working on. Why would she consider getting involved with the Russians?” “Money. Greed does many things to people. If she was power hungry, eager to move up politically, the Bratva are extremely well funded, a portion of their funds kept in secure o

I said softly, he stayed silent as he scanned through the data I have gathered about the Russians. “They are a cartel, a gang called Bratstvo based in Moscow, looking to expand their influence to the US. I know that you Director and your guys have been at war with these kinds of people for years, so I am just preventing a disaster before it befalls us all. We all know what these people are capable of, and we cannot turn a blind eye to them.” Gosh, I was wasting words. “So what can I do for you, Miss Jones?”

“You’re property now — of the Bratva.” Panic surged in her chest. “The Bratva?” “Russian mafia, Printsessa. You’ve been sold to the Bratva as a slave.” Her mind reeled. She thought of Zach, his warm embrace this morning, the way he kissed her forehead before leaving for office. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. “Who sold me to the Russian Mafia?” She asked curiously. The driver shrugged. “I don't know. I'm just a driver.”

As Vor, I bear the weighty responsibility of maintaining order and ensuring strict adherence to the Bratva’s unwavering code of conduct. The Russian Bratva has gained infamy for its ruthless tactics and wide-ranging criminal operations, encompassing illicit activities such as drug trafficking, arms smuggling, money laundering, and extortion. Employing a combination of violence and intimidation, we stop at nothing to accomplish our objectives, often leaving a trail of high-profile assassinations and bombings in our wake. It comes as no surprise that governments across the globe regard us with apprehension and trepidation.

“Looks like it. The markings on the casing match their special loads. They don’t share those with anyone.” Eli sat frozen next to Cove, his hands still stained with dried blood. “Who are the Volkovs? I’ve heard the name but… I stayed away from that world.” Cove leaned his head back against the wall, breathing carefully. “The Volkov Bratva. Russian mafia. Nikolai Volkov runs it with an iron fist. Cold. Smart. Doesn’t start fights unless he knows he can finish them.” Lena set the evidence bag down on a metal table. “They’ve been quiet for the last year. Expanding into new territories. Arms, drugs, cyber stuff. If Nikolai is working with Marco, this war just got a lot bigger.”

“I’m not allowed to work. So embarrassing calling them to tell them that I won’t be working after all when today was my first day back. Milos is holding the rescue I want to start hostage to get me to comply. He’ll fund it in exchange for me barely spending any time there so I can be the good little Russian mafia wife.” Dropping the manga, she shakes her head. “Bratva, don’t call them mafia, they hate that. I mean to us it’s what they are, but they can’t stand it.” She’s not wrong, I found that out while I went diving into Milos in the days after I met him. “How did you know that?”

The auctioneer cleared his throat. “Ten million going once…” Still silence. “Going twice…” The gavel came down sharply. “Sold.” The sound echoed through the room. Sofia’s heart pounded wildly as she stared toward the man who had bought her. Because suddenly every person in the room was whispering the same name. Volkov.

“The same. Brother of Dmitri Mikhailov.” I glance at Lukas, who looks equally stunned. Dmitri Mikhailov isn’t just any Bratva boss—he’s the Russian Crown, one of the Five Crowns, the crime families that rule everything from the shadows. Dmitri is a fucking legend, and his name alone sends shivers down the spines of anyone smart enough to know who he is. But the Mikhailovs aren’t just powerful. They’re at war. “You’re sure?” I manage, my voice low and rough.