Bratva Russian Mafia Novels & Stories

Adrian studied the mark for a long moment before finally speaking. “The Bratva.” Silence. Nathan felt the shift in the air instantly. The Bratva, the Russian Mafia. Nathan had heard whispers about them, but Adrian had always kept them at arm’s length, making sure they never got a foothold in the city. They operated in the shadows, ruthless and precise. And now, they had just left a mark inside Adrian’s stolen shipment. Luca exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "shit.” Nathan clenched his jaw. This wasn’t just a message.

Mr Pompous chuckled gently and I could hear him click his tongue before responding to Dale. "It would take more than the Bratva to murder me" Bratva again? Wasn't that some sort of confraternity in Russia or-- No... I remember now. It's the Russian mafia. "The Russian Mafia" Whenever I'm lost in thought, I often speak without realizing it, and this is the second time it's happening around Mr. Pompous. He turned slowly to me revealing the darkness around his eyes which made me gulp heavily. "They have no regard for the king of the Underground. By the way, how is Sofia Dante?" I could still hear Dale from the other end even though Mr. Pompous had his deadly stares at me.

It’s no secret the Ponti family isn’t happy about the ties between the mafia and bratva, but I didn’t think they’d go this far. The Italian is looking for shit to rain down on his head. Once Viktor, the head of the bratva, and Andre, the head of the Demonyo mafia, hear of this, all hell will break loose. The Demonyo Mafia is tied to the Bratva through marriage, and from what I’ve heard, it’s a happy marriage. There’s also the fact that Viktor and Andre are close friends. With Ponti taking us, he’s declaring war on the mafia and bratva.

“Creative as always, Alexei. Unfortunately, as you’ve just seen, my cock is much closer to your daughter than where you’re hiding out.” My gaze settled on the tattoos on my captor’s fingers, and my stomach went cold. He had men who did his bidding, he was outrageously wealthy, and he had apparently been to prison. What was the word for Russian mafia? Bratva. It explained the strange men who came and went from our home, my papa’s secrecy about his work, his refusal to allow me into Russia, and Ivan. It explained red paint leaking from beneath . . . no. I couldn’t go there. It just explained everything. Every suspicion I’d ever had. His secret family now felt like a welcome reprieve.

Ruin ended the call and placed the tablet on the table. “Explain,” I said. He looked at me carefully before answering. “The Bratva operates differently from other organizations,” he said. “They do not start large conflicts without creating a public cause.” “You mean they want it to look like we forced their hand,” I said. “Yes,” he replied. I crossed my arms as I thought about the situation. “They attacked the safe house,” I said. “They sabotaged the shipment. They accessed the estate. And now they are demanding a trade.”

Now I know why his name sounded familiar. He’s a member of the Bratva. He’s among the four ruthless members who are also called the four reapers. Everyone fears them as they hold so much power and are all bloodthirsty. “How did you manage to do it? Me getting invited for an interview to be his daughter's nanny?” As far as I know, members of the bratva are not easily accessible, especially not by commoners like us. “I have a friend who works for his organization. That’s how I managed to do it. Be your best tomorrow, Milana. Don’t mess this up. The pay is really huge and it will be a privilege working for Viktor Ivanov. He—“

"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

The man’s eyes grew round. “Da, apparently, you should have researched your victims. That was strike two…And you never get a three from the Bratva if you know anything at all about them. Then there is the high body count. You are Russian, you have raped women and killed innocents for money all across the globe, for contracts. For what? The fun of it? The money? Bah…” Viktor let out a cold laugh. “I suppose it doesn’t matter why. Your group is no more. The Bratva decided that there shouldn’t be such a league as yours.” He shrugged. “Zakonchilsya.” “Da,” Grisha couldn’t seem to help but to add, “You made Russia look bad, mother fucker.”

He stared intently at the screen of his laptop; the red blinking icon that once taunted him in the ICC bunker had now blossomed into a complex geometric map, filled with Russian server nodes that pulsated like a living organism. "They aren't just the Bratva, Dante," Julian said, his voice raspy and hollow, as if each word required immense effort. He hadn't looked up in three hours, lost in the web of digital information that enveloped him. "The people reaching out from Moscow... they’re Vory v Zakone. The Old Guard. They believe that the fall of the Triads has tipped the global scales too far in our favor. They see us as a monopoly that needs to be broken."

Over hundred mafia men and women are present from The Bratva. The top 5 except are there too except Sergei, and Adeline couldn't help but notice most of them giving her curious looks. She expected it anyways. Since she killed Stravinsky, she got popular. Michael Alonso... Death's boy. She took a quick glance into the grave. Erik's body is already inside, placed in a glass coffin which definitely costs a fortune. Silence rented the graveyard when the mafia priest came forward in his black robe... "Erik Orlov, the 5th Pakhan of...