Solntsevskaya Bratva Novels & Stories

She asked again. “To Russia. To the Bratva.” I smiled sadly; letting the information sink in further into her. The Bratva has always been in the game for as long as I could remember; and the fuckers have always been up there on the top of the list of the most inhuman, cruel fuckers in the whole underworld. Few came and passed by, but the Bratva upheld their way of doing things. They called it a tradition; a reputation to live up to.

Jozef didn't care if he went to war with the entire Bratva organization, he would protect his wife with the last breath in his body. Fortunately, for their sake, it seemed the Bratva didn't want him dead. There were eleven men in the room. Jozef recognized all of them. The eldest member, a ninety-eight-year-old mobster by the name of Ivan Siberia, was the top voice of the Bratva. They called him Siberia because no one knew his actual name. Not even Ivan knew. He'd gone into a Siberian gulag as a teenager in the 1930s. He'd been among the first Bratva to rule the prisons. He'd had a reputation for blood-thirsty brutality that had only grown over the years. There were rumours that held he'd ha

"Checking. Hold on." Waiting for more information, I fought not to scratch at my scalp. "What part of Sweden did they go to? Does anyone know specifically?" "I'll ask Momma," Turo said. His voice sounded far away as I heard him say, "Momma, I need information." "We've got a few bratva that had started taking notice and an interest in setting up shop near Leningrad," Nik said. "So today's Saint Petersburg. Good. Who were they?" "We've got origin factors of Gavrila, Saveliy, Timurovich, Vasilievich. A few others. Those are the ones that managed to hold onto their territories."

His family was left terrified and refused to speak to anyone, including the police. Elena called another commission meeting to deal with the growing threat. This time, every boss took it seriously. The problem had spread across multiple territories. It could no longer be ignored. The Santoro boss said his people had captured one of the men involved. After pressure, the man admitted the truth. He worked for a group called the Kozlov Bratva. It was a Russian crime organization based in Brighton Beach.

“No—” “Yes, Serena. That is why he and I hate one another so much. He is part of the Bratva. Long ago, they were divided into five families. The Orlov Brotherhood, the Volkov Brotherhood, the Petrov Brotherhood, the Ivanov Brotherhood, and the Kozlov Brotherhood.” “Those five families constituted the Bratva. We lived in harmony with all of them, respected territories and boundaries, and avoided wars and scrutiny from the public. We lived in the shadows.”

“Russians don’t request meetings. They summon you like a dog. I wonder why Sokolov ‘seeks an audience with me?” The words hung heavy in the air. Olivia stiffened in her chair, the fork trembling between her slack fingers. She had read enough, stories, histories, whispered myths in books her mother never wanted her to touch, to know what the Russian Bratva meant. They were just like Nero’s organisation. They were mafia. Often more merciless than the Italian outfit. Elena had told her so. They were not business partners; they were storms that swallowed cities. Terrible storms waiting to break out. She swallowed, voice fragile but audible. “Is it… safe?”

Their young Tsar candidate was dead. The Bratva was vast as Russian lands that extended like a strip on the map. The Kozlovsky Syndicate was just a patch of garland in it but their alliances and influences, never-ending list of underdogs and rats networking gave them an invincible hold on our ancestors' trade routes.

"But he made one mistake." "Which was?" "He didn't know we upgraded the gate sensors to high-def thermal last month." Michele zoomed in on the courier’s wrist as he handed the envelope to the butler. It was blurred but a tattoo was obvious. A small, stylized black sun on the inside of the wrist. "Solntsevskaya Bratva." I whispered. The Russian Syndicate. "We caught him." Romeo said, “Said he didn't know what was in the envelope, just got paid three thousands Euro to drop it at the gate."

He had an ulterior motive, and once again, I was just the victim. “Tanya’s an ex-mafia wife, you know! She’s in the Bratva brotherhood. If I can’t melt Miron at my feet, why don’t I try melting his sister-in-law?” Richard continued whispering to me. I swear, Richard has no idea what he’s doing. He thinks Tanya will betray Miron just because she’s his sister-in-law. Richard has no idea how strong the Bratva brotherhood is, huh? They weren’t that strict about family traditions.

he teased, but I only grinned wider. “Is she a girl? What’s her name? Do I know her?” “It’s not what you think, we’re just friends.” “I never said you were anything more; you assumed that.” His face reddened further, and I let out a low laugh. “Her name is Yulia.” “Julia? As in Yulia Ivanov? Yaroslav Ivanov’s younger sister, the current Pakhan of the Bratvam, and Yasir Ivanov, the current Vor of the Bratvam and head of the Vor v Zakone?