Solntsevskaya Bratva Novels & Stories

The static electricity in the air could be felt miles away. “YA dumal, ty skazal, chto on vydal svoyu doch'.” I thought you said he gave away his daughter. The man growls at the person beside him. I gasp when I take a good look at the man and the Eagle tattoo peeking out the top of his shirt. This tattoo was the mark of the bratva. The bratva was in my house. Under my roof. And they had killed my father. I had seen their faces.

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.

One wrong move, one misstep, and we could lose everything—not just our lives, but the entire plan to take down the Bratva and their stranglehold on the city. The warehouse doors creaked open, and a group of men emerged from the SUVs, their heavy boots echoing against the concrete as they walked toward us. I recognized one of them immediately: Sergei Volkov, a high-ranking enforcer in the Bratva, his reputation for ruthlessness well-known across the criminal underworld. His icy blue eyes scanned the surroundings with the sharpness of a predator sizing up its prey. Behind him was a contingent of muscle, all dressed in dark suits, their faces expressionless but dangerous. Every one of them was

His mouth. “What if he dies right now,” Roman murmured. I turned too quickly. His hand slid down my lap, squeezing. Hermes’s gaze hardened. “You see, every single person in that room hates the Bratva.” Roman lifted his glass to my lips. I hesitated until he nudged; I took a small sip. Roman smiled, pleased. “For seven days straight after Kovalev’s death, there was nothing but massacre. The only groups untouched were the Bratva and the Cosa Nostra. A lot of people believe Kovalev sent his fake son to the front while he carried out the real work in silence.”

"Nikolai. Are you guys high on something because I don't understand a word you and your wife is speaking. What Bratva? What Pakhan?" Nikolai shook his head. It was time he tells her sister everything about them. "Leigh, Bratva is Russian Mafia. And Pakhan is it's Boss. He is our Boss. And We are a part of Bratva. And you are promised to the Fedorov family since your birth."

She set the device on her crossed legs and scrolled through whatever information was displayed on its screen. “I didn’t find much, but this might be enough.” She begun and I gestured for her to continue. “Bratva and la Rosa de Sangre didn’t start out as allies. Three generations earlier, there was a bloody feud between Enrique De Los Santos and Vladimir Ivanov I. It remains unknown when or why it begun, but it didn’t seem like it was ever going to end. Even after the deaths of both Enrique and Vladimir I, the feud continued. Lorenzo ended up killing the wife of Vladimir II during a raid on Spanish territory. When his mother finally stepped down, and Lorenzo became the Don, he got fed up with

"Because I was the cause of the war that has been raging in these streets for the last ten years. Because I did exactly what you're trying to do now. Tell me, why do you think this is a Ivanov Bratva and not an Isakov Bratva?" "Why don't you enlighten me?" Josh crosses his arms. "Since you seem to hold all the answers." "Because this Bratva once belonged to Yevgeniy Ivanov," I confess to him. Behind Josh, Fabiola glances at Katerina. How much does she know? "Until I stole it from him."

Alpha. The men rose. Even my father stopped breathing. I did not turn until he passed me, and when my eyes caught sight of him as he looked sideways at me, I knew exactly why they froze. It was Dimitri Volkov. Alpha of the Black Fang Pack. Pakhan of the Volkov Bratva. The monster whispered about by wolves and humans alike. He stopped in front of the table. “Why is there a girl on my floor?” One of the men cleared his throat. “Ivan Morozov brought her as partial payment.”

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.