The Bratva Dinner

POV: VIKTOR

Oleg settles into the heavy leather chair opposite my desk, radiating a restless, violent energy. At sixty-five years old, my uncle still carries the heavy menace of his former days. Back when my father was the pakhan, Oleg served as his ruthless second-in-command. He still thinks like a street predator, constantly scanning the room for weakness, his piercing blue gaze carrying the sh