Dark Obsession: An Age Gap, Bratva Romance (Chicago Bratva Series)

A few minutes earlier…

Isit in the car, rain tapping lightly against the windshield, the early Chicago evening swallowing everything except the dim, flickering streetlights.

The house I’m watching is just as shitty as the neighborhood it sits in, like a corpse rotting out in the open. It’s rundown, has boarded-up windows and peeling paint. It’s a place no one would look at twice, which makes it perfect for the kind of business Claudio Sanchez runs.

I take a slow sip of my coffee, its warmth cutting through the chill creeping into the car. Stakeouts have never bothered me. I can sit here for hours like a predator stalking its prey.

Patience is a weapon, and I know how to wield it. I’ve waited for worse men than Sanchez.

A car pulls up, headlights cutting through the rain, and I lower my coffee, my eyes narrowing. But it’s not him. Two guys get out, low-level dealers from the looks of it. Claudio seems like the type not to show his face unless he’s sure it’s safe.

My phone buzzes, ringing insistently on the dashboard. I glance at it, then back to the house. I let it ring. My business with Sanchez isn’t something I’m ready to share just yet, not even with the family.

I’ve always handled my shit alone.

Finally, the phone stops. I catch a flash of the voicemail icon on the screen.

Great.

My focus stays on the house, my mind still on the job. But the itch in the back of my brain grows—I know I need to loop them in eventually.

The car pulls away, leaving nothing but the patter of rain and my growing tension. I grab the phone, the voicemail icon blinking at me like it’s mocking my silence. I hit play.

Alexei’s voice fills the car. Elena was attacked.

My chest tightens, and a rage I’ve never felt before pulses through me like wildfire. I grip the steering wheel so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t snap in two. Every part of me wants to storm into that house and kill every motherfucker inside, leaving Claudio a bloody message he won’t forget.

But I force myself to breathe, to think.

Cooler heads, Grigori.

I call Alexei back, my hand still gripping the wheel. He picks up on the second ring. “Grigori?”

“What the fuck happened? Was she hurt?”

“She’s alright. A bit shaken up, a few bruises and cuts here and there, but nothing too serious. We’re taking her to the hospital to get checked out just to be sure. We lost two guards,” Alexei says the last part quietly.

Two guards down. Damn. I press my fist into the steering wheel, my knuckles white.

“Which hospital?” I growl, fury simmering beneath the surface.

Alexei tells me then adds, “We’ll let you know when you can see her.”

“I’ll see her now,” I hiss, hanging up before he can respond.

The war’s on. And I’m going to make damn sure Sanchez regrets coming after her.

I pull away from the house slowly, forcing myself to stay calm as I merge onto the road. But once I’m on the open highway, I drive like a madman, my foot heavy on the gas. The rain blurs the city lights, but my focus is razor-sharp.

Elena.

She could’ve been killed.

The thought sets my blood on fire, the anger coursing through my veins like lava.

I arrive at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, parking haphazardly before storming toward the ER. The fluorescent lights overhead are harsh, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. The second I step inside, I’m greeted by the full Ivanov crew—Luk, Lev, Yuri, and Alexei. They’re all waiting for me, their faces tense. I stop dead in my tracks, my heart racing.

“Where’s Elena?” I demand, my voice full of fury. I need to see her.

Lev is the first to speak. “Not yet, Grigori. They’re still checking her out, but it’s nothing serious. Trust me, she’s okay.”

I grind my teeth, frustration burning in my gut. I want to push past them to get to her, but the look in their eyes tells me there’s more going on.

Alexei smirks. “Feels like an intervention, doesn’t it?”

“What do you want?” I growl, my patience wearing thin.

Luk steps forward, his expression unreadable. “We know something’s going on between you and the cartel. It’s time you tell us what the hell it is.”

I sigh, knowing there’s no getting out of this conversation.

Luk steps forward, arms crossed, his tone resolute. ‘Once we get some answers, you can see Elena. But until we know what’s really going on, it’s too dangerous to have you around her.’

Lev doesn’t hesitate to pile on. ‘You’ve become an unpredictable element, Grigori. You’re hiding your past, disappearing and going off on your own with no contact. We need clarity before we can trust you fully again.’

They’ve got me dead to rights and I know it. The rage simmering inside from hearing Elena was attacked doesn’t blind me to the fact that I’ve kept them in the dark for too long. I take a deep breath, the weight of the conversation ahead pressing down on me.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘But we’ll need some privacy for this.’

Luk nods and turns to a nearby nurse, his tone authoritative. ‘We need a private place to talk—now.’

The nurse glances at him, her eyes flashing with recognition. After a brief hesitation, she says, ‘There’s a conference room on the third floor. Room 305.’

‘Thank you,’ Luk replies.

As we make our way to the elevator, I feel the pull of the past rising, ready to come out. As the doors close behind us, I know that once I come clean, everything will change.

But there’s no turning back now.

The conference room is larger than I expected, with a view of the parking lot, the Chicago skyline in the distance. I step to the window, hands in my pockets, trying to gather my thoughts and find the right words.

Luk’s voice cuts through the silence. “Start with our past. Alexei’s new to the crew and he doesn’t know everything.”

I turn, meeting Luk’s eyes for a moment. There’s no escaping this. I take a deep breath and consider how to tell them everything that’s been going on in the last few years that I’ve kept secret.

It’s time.

“We all grew up together,” I begin, the memories hitting hard. “Ever since I was ten, we’ve been practically inseparable. I was an orphan, and your uncle, Marcel, brought me to Chicago. He had connections, knew my family in New York. So when they died, he made sure I was taken care of by your family.”

Luk nods, familiar with the beginning of the story. But no one knows the truth about the rest of it, not even him.

“I was raised an honorary Ivanov,” I continue. “Loyalty, family—it’s all I’ve known since I was a kid. I followed your father’s orders without question, no matter how bloody things got.”

The room is tense, everyone waiting for me to go deeper. But the next part is where things get messy. And I’m about to open a door that can’t ever be closed again.

“When I turned eighteen, I had a strong yearning to find out what really happened to my family.”

I take a deep breath, my eyes flicking to each of them. They’re all listening intently, hanging on every word, waiting to hear the story I’ve buried for years.

‘The truth about what happened to them had always been murky. Marcel told me it was a tragic accident. That’s all I knew growing up. Nothing more, nothing less.’

Alexei leans in, curious. Luk watches me, a stoic expression on his face. Lev and Yuri sit unmoving in their chairs.

‘When I came of age, I couldn’t just leave it at that. I needed to know the truth. So, I went to New York. That’s when I found out who my father really was.’

I pause, the memories of those days crashing back, vivid and brutal.

‘I learned that my father wasn’t just some low-life crook. He was a drug dealer who ruled over parts of New York with an iron fist. He had power, respect… and enemies. It was a rival gang that took him out. They couldn’t just kill him, though—they slaughtered my entire family. My older brothers, my sisters… all of them. They left no one alive.’

The room is deathly quiet now, their attention locked on me.

‘I only survived because of Marcel. He knew what he was doing. Not only did he get me out of New York, he brought me into your family. He probably would’ve told you the truth himself, but he never got the chance.”

Luk’s eyes narrow slightly but he stays quiet, letting me speak.

“When he died in that car crash, he took the truth with him,” I continue, voice darkening. “By the time I figured it all out—what really happened to my family—I knew I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t just sit back and accept it.”

I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. The tragic memories start crashing down.

“So I went back to New York a few years ago and I didn’t go to talk. I went there to settle the score.”

“Wait, was that when you told us you were going to find a long-lost cousin or something? You were gone for weeks,” Lev says.

“Yes. I lied, so you wouldn’t offer to follow and help me.”

A flash of the men I killed runs through my mind—face after face, every one of them burned into my memory. I was a different man then, one who cared about vengeance and nothing else.

“I left a bloodbath in my wake. Dozens of men—every last one connected to the gang that wiped out my family—I took them all down. I made sure they knew who I was, made sure they suffered.”

The room is silent, heavy with the weight of what I’ve just admitted. I let out a slow breath, the macabre scene still lingering in my mind.

“And that was only the beginning.”

I can feel the darkness settle in deeper as I talk, each word unearthing memories I’ve spent years trying to forget. But I keep going. They need to hear it.

“I wasn’t satisfied with just killing the men who slaughtered my family. I wanted to end it all, make a statement. So I decided to hit their biggest drug den, send a message that would never be forgotten.”

I pause as the image of that night flashes before my eyes like a bad horror movie.

“But no matter how deep I dug, I could never get the name of the kingpin, the man they all called ‘Mr. M.’ It didn’t matter, though. Whoever he was, he was going to pay. He was going to suffer.”

I can feel the tension in the room shift, the brothers leaning in as they eagerly await the rest.

“The night of the attack, I waited until their busiest time, when the place was crawling with guards and drug runners. I set the stage with an explosion, blowing up one of the cars outside to draw them out. As they rushed toward the car, I picked them off one by one. Silent, calculated. It was like a game to me.”

My fists clench at the memory of the adrenaline, the rage, the satisfaction of watching them fall.

“Once the guards were down, I went inside. Ready to finish the job.”

The memories tighten around me like a noose, and I force myself to keep going. It’s been years, but that night is burned into me—literally.

“I wasn’t supposed to get caught in it,” I say, my voice rougher now, the bitterness evident. “My plan was to wreck the place, not set the whole damn thing on fire. But when the guard fired wide, hitting those chemicals, the blaze caught faster than I expected. Too fast.”

I pause, my fingers flexing as the memory of that heat, that searing pain, floods back.

‘The fire spread quickly, and before I could even get out of the main room, the flames had reached me. I didn’t see it coming until it was too late. The heat was unreal. My clothes caught, and for a moment, all I could feel was fire—on my arm, my back, my chest. I tried to keep moving, but it burned through me like a wave of acid. The pain was…”

I trail off, glancing at the brothers. They all know what’s under my shirt, but they’ve never asked how or why.

“That’s how I got the scars. My body charred, the fire eating through me while the rest of the lab blew up. Chemicals, glass, bodies—everything went to hell. It was total mayhem. I barely got out alive.”

I let the silence sit for a moment, the weight of my words hung heavily in the air.

“When I made it outside, I saw one of the guards, his face pale, shouting into his phone. I couldn’t hear much, but I caught two words. Las hijas. Las hijas. The daughters.”

I grind my teeth, the realization hitting just as hard now as it did then.

‘That was when I knew something had gone horribly wrong.’

My skin tingles with phantom pain, the scars beneath my clothes seeming to burn all over again.

“After the fire, I was half-dead, burned, and stumbling aimlessly through the streets. Through a contact, I managed to find a doctor who treated people who can’t go to a regular hospital.”

I can still see the sterile, dimly lit room where the doctor patched me up, the smell of antiseptic mingling with the stench of burned flesh. He didn’t ask questions. He simply worked in silence, fixing me.

“He treated my burns, kept me hidden while I recovered,” I say, dragging a hand across my jaw. “But that wasn’t the end of it. He gave me more than just medical care; he gave me vital information.”

I pause, trying to find the words to describe what he told me.

“The fire killed innocent women. Three of them. Daughters of Oscar Molina, the same bastard who killed my parents and siblings. I didn’t know they were in the building that night.”

There is dead silence in the room as the brothers stare at me, letting the truth sink in.

“Molina survived. He wasn’t there, but he’s been hunting me ever since. He died a few years ago, but his organization has taken up his cause. And you know the rest.”

I turn to face them fully. “I recovered. Rejoined the family. And now, Molina’s crew has come to Chicago, looking for revenge.”

That’s when I see it in their eyes—understanding. Finally.

The brothers sit back, quietly processing everything I just laid out for them. I wait patiently, giving them time to organize their thoughts, formulate their responses.

Luk is the first to break the silence, his voice grim. “If there was any doubt that we’re about to be in the middle of a war, your story just settled it.”

Alexei leans back, his usual smirk replaced with something darker. “Yeah, it’s going to get ugly. Worse than we imagined.”

I clench my fists, my chest tight with guilt. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this and for putting Elena at risk. This was my personal business, and now it’s bleeding into everything.”

Lev shakes his head, leaning forward. “Don’t think that way. If Molina’s crew is in Chicago, it’s not just about you. They’ve had their eyes on this city for a while. There would’ve been a war either way.”

Yuri nods in agreement. “That’s right. The cartel’s presence here was inevitable. All we can do now is prepare for it, and fight when the time comes.”

I look at them, my brothers in everything but blood, feeling the weight of what’s coming. “I’m ready. I’ll lay down my life for Elena, and for the Ivanov Bratva.”

Lev’s lips curve into a slight smile, his gaze steady. “We know, Grigori. But don’t forget—we’re family. We fight together, and we’ll prevail together.”

I nod, a grim sense of relief washing over me.