Shattered Crown: A Dark Mafia Age Gap Romance (Kozlov Empire Book 4)

One Month Earlier

I fan myself with one hand while grabbing a chilled glass of champagne with the other. Haute couture in summer is never a good idea. But then again, nothing about tonight is.

The luxurious ballroom is filled with Russia’s crème de la crème, celebrating Maxim Belov discovering his long-lost daughter, Alyona Nikitin. But like everything associated with Maxim, the happy union is just an illusion.

Glancing around the lavishly decorated room, I spot Alyona—my best friend and ride-or-die—in one corner, caught up in a discussion with Maxim and the interior minister. A familiar sense of anger prickles my spine. Despite the story that Maxim spun for his esteemed guests, this is no happy reunion.

One week ago, he abducted Aly and me from a safehouse in Croatia and whisked us away to his grand Black Sea estate. At the time, we had no idea who had captured us or why, until Maxim sat Aly down and basically said, “Nice to meet you. By the way, I’m your biological father—here’s the proof. From here on out, you’re going to rule my empire by my side. And if you don’t, I’ll kill everyone you love.”

The last thing Aly wants is joining forces with Maxim, a man entrenched in organized crime as he is in legitimate business. What she yearns for—what she’s always yearned for—is a regular life, far from the bratva upbringing she’s known. Well … that, and my brother Leo, but that’s a whole other story.

So yeah, not the warmest of reunions with dear old dad. But here we are a week later, at Maxim’s version of a “debutante ball”, where he’s parading Aly around like his newest acquisition, which is exactly what she is to him. Property to be owned and controlled.

But no one in their right mind would challenge Maxim. His influence extends far beyond business and politics, deep into the underworld. He’s not bratva; he’s the king to whom the bratva pakhans report. If he’s the king, then Alyona is his reluctant princess.

And I’m the joker that got caught up in this mess. Truth of the matter is, Maxim has no business with me. I suspect I’ll be free to go after tonight, but there’s a fat chance that’s going to happen. When the opportunity presents itself, I’m getting my friend out of here—one way or another. Aly is strong in her own right, but I’m a born fighter. Along with my half-brothers—Andrei, Daniil, and Leo—I run Brooklyn’s Kozlov Bratva, the most powerful crime syndicate on the US East Coast.

I take another sip of champagne and watch the couples on the dance floor before scanning the room again. But this time, Aly is nowhere to be seen. I’m about to go look for her, when I’m met with a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Liza?” I exclaim.

Elizaveta Ivanova, an old friend and roommate from boarding school, stands in front of me. Her teenage braids have been replaced by cascading chestnut waves, and her striking eyes are winged-tipped and sophisticated, but they still light up with the same genuine warmth as always.

My lips curve into a surprised smile.

She chuckles, wrapping me in a tight hug. ‘I can’t believe it! The last I heard, you’d moved to New York and found your brothers. The Kozlovs, is that right?”

“It’s true,” I confirm. “I’m back in Russia for a … visit.” If you consider abduction and forcible confinement a visit. “And what about you? What have you been up to?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

“Not much has changed since we were schoolmates. I’ve been living the life in Moscow—the parties, the society events, the usual. Papa allowed me to go to university, but now that I’ve graduated…” She takes a solemn breath and lifts her left hand with a less than thrilled expression.

My gaze is drawn to a flashy diamond ring on her third finger. “You’re engaged?”

I’m not surprised. She’s always been the dreamy, romantic type. Unlike me—I’m happy to never get married. I prefer the freedom to work and run the family business. Plus, in most bratva families, marriage means losing all freedom.

“You remember Anatoly Petrovich, from the grade above us?” she asks without a trace of enthusiasm.

I wince. “He’s not exactly who I pictured you with.”

Liza is beautiful, chic, and sweet down to her marrow, and Anatoly is the exact opposite. My memory of him is of a self-important, pompous ass, who used his family name and connections to get good grades and only targeted the drunkest girl at any given party.

She grimaces. “Trust me, he’s not who I pictured myself with. He’s still the same mudak he was at school.’ My parents are pushing this ‘advantageous alliance’ with the Petroviches,” Liza mimics, using air quotes. “I think you can imagine our situation. Nothing has changed.”

Liza’s father, Boris Ivanov, has a hearty appetite for drinking and gambling. Her mother used to regularly be at the headmaster’s office, pleading for more time to settle Liza’s tuition fees. It was well-known among the students that, despite the Ivanovs’ supposed wealth, they frequently fell behind on payments due to Boris’s vices.

Anatoly might be a creep, but he’s a rich creep from a shipping magnate family. With the Ivanovs’ underworld connections, it’s a match made in mafia heaven.

I sigh and take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. When is the wedding?”

“Sometime next year. But to be honest, never is my preference.”

We look over to see Anatoly, slightly paunchy with thinning blond hair, attempting to engage a waitress in a conversation that seems too friendly. Watching him, I feel a fresh wave of sympathy for my old friend.

“Want me to help you do a runner?” I offer. “I can commandeer one of the helicopters on the back property and get us the hell out of here.”

Liza pauses in thought, sipping her champagne. “If anyone is capable of stealing a helicopter from Maxim Belov, it’s you.”

An involuntary shudder passes through me. His name alone is distasteful.

She smiles nostalgically. “Do you remember when we… Well, actually, you stole the headmistress’s car to get to that party in St. Petersburg. The look on Sister Olga’s face the next morning. Shit. I think she whipped us for that one.”

“I think she did. If it hadn’t been for my aunt pleading our case to the headmistress, we definitely would’ve been expelled.” The memory brings a bittersweet smile to my face. While other parents would have been outraged, Aunt Masha had a rebellious streak—much like me—and understood the thrill of bending the rules. ‘She always said life was too short to live by the rules set by nuns.”

Liza studies me, her expression growing serious. “I know how much you loved her and struggled after she … died. I wish I could have been there for you more than I was.”

I shake my head, swallowing the pain that threatens to drown me every time I think of her. Aunt Masha raised me. Until I found my brothers, she’d been the only person who ever loved me. The only person I ever loved. The person whose absence in my life still leaves a hole as big as a continent in my heart.

Liza is one of the few people that know my aunt was murdered … and how it was all my fault.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for not reaching out. When I settled in New York, I needed to move forward with my life. Thinking about Russia and the people I left behind” — I squeeze her hand — “was too hard.”

“Of course, I understand.” She smiles sadly. “What brings you here now?”

I clear my throat. “I’m close friends with Alyona Nikitin, Maxim Belov’s daughter. I’m here to support her during this time of … transition.” Forcible transition. But I leave that out as it doesn’t fit the narrative Maxim is spinning.

She shakes her head. ‘It must have been a real shock to find out her biological father is one of Russia’s most powerful men!’

‘You have no idea,’ I say, swallowing the knot in my throat when I think of how trapped Aly is in a world she never chose.

‘I don’t, but I’m dying to know.’ Liza raises her eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

I can’t help but smile—she’s always been one for gossip, but this story is not mine to share. I’m about to change the subject when she curses softly, her attention shifting to something behind me.

“Jesus, that man. I need to get him out of here.” There’s panic in her eyes.

I understand why. Liza’s father is swaying and pontificating loudly into the ear of the Polish Ambassador, who looks less than impressed.

“I’ll help you,” I offer.

Boris is built like a bull—there’s no way petite Liza could take him on her own. With the promise of a cigar and a fresh glass of liqueur, we’re able to cajole him outside to one of the empty terraces off the main ballroom.

“Sit, Papa,” Liza demands, settling him into a chair and handing him a glass of water.

“Vodka?” he asks hopefully.

“No. You don’t need any more to drink,” she hisses. “You need to sober up.”

“My Elizaveta.” He chuckles. “Always taking care of your papa. A good girl, right?” He looks at me to make his point, and that’s when he tilts his head to the side, squinting. “Who are you? I recognize you from somewhere.”

Liza crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s my old friend, Kira Antonov. You remember her—we were roommates in school.”

His eyebrows knit together. ‘Oleg Antonov’s daughter?’

‘Papa! She doesn’t want to be reminded of that.”

He points in my direction. ‘Hard to believe, looking at her, that this little thing was behind the coup to kill Oleg and take over the Antonov Bratva.’

My stomach twists. My family’s legacy is ugly and brutal, and it’s all because of my father. The man who stole me from my mother’s arms as a newborn and shipped me off to Russia to be raised by his sister, Masha, while he stayed in the US.

By the time I turned twenty-one, Oleg had completely unraveled. His drug and alcohol abuse escalated, he ventured into human trafficking and started cutting the street drugs he sold with fentanyl. His senior lieutenants were fed up. They came to Russia and secretly met with me and Aunt Masha, urging me to dethrone my father and claim my place as the rightful heir.

Leading the Antonov Bratva was not the future I’d pictured, but I hated my father and what he was doing. Only, the attack that we planned went south when someone tipped him off. In the end, my father survived, but most of his senior lieutenants were killed. After that, Oleg became hell-bent on revenge. He had my aunt murdered, and would have done the same to me if he could.

But he wasn’t about to. I got to him first.

Liza’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open as she prepares to scold her father, but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,’ I assure her. “It’s been said before.”

Boris starts to laugh like I told him the funniest joke in the world, and Liza and I exchange looks.

“Why are you here?!” he asks, wiping a tear from his eye. “Out to get revenge on the host?”

“Why would you say something so ridiculous? She’s a guest here, like us.” Liza flashes me an apologetic look, but there’s something about Boris’s tone that sets my teeth on edge.

“What do you mean, get my revenge?” I ask cautiously.

Leaning in closer, his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, considering the rumors about how Maxim helped kill Masha Antonov.”

“Ex-excuse me?” My breath catches in my throat, and everything around me spins as his words hit me like a freight train.

“You don’t know what you’re saying!” Liza’s voice quivers with rage. “You’re drunk!”

“I am, but I still know what I’m talking about.”

My blood freezes in my veins. I’d love to dismiss Boris’s revelations as drunken ramblings, but I’ve long known that while my father ordered the hit on my aunt, someone else lured her out of hiding. “Why would Maxim Belov help my father kill Masha?”

“Why? Who knows.” He shrugs, his words slurred and his eyes glassy. “Maxim Belov does whatever he wants. No one would dare challenge him.”

Liza shakes her head in disgust before her worried eyes meet mine. “Please tell me you don’t believe a word. He can barely stand.”

“Why would he make up something like that?” I stumble back, trying to get control over my racing thoughts. “Last summer, when I was back in Russia cleaning out my aunt’s secret cabin—the place she’d been hiding out in—I found the diary she’d kept in the days before she was murdered. In the entries leading up to her death, she mentioned someone she knew and trusted who had vowed to protect her. Although she didn’t disclose their identity, she planned to meet them in Moscow. But whoever this person was did the exact opposite. They led her like a lamb to the slaughter.”

Liza frowns. “It’s still a jump to think Maxim had anything to do with it.”

I swallow the lump of emotion clogging my throat. ‘He knew my aunt—he told me so. And he’s one of the few people powerful enough who could have protected her from my father.’

Liza blows out a breath. ‘What would his motivation be?’

I pause, my hands curling at my sides. ‘Well, I don’t know, but I certainly plan on finding out.’

‘No! You need to drop this.’ She grabs my shoulders, and she fixes me with a stern look. ‘Maxim is dangerous. You know that as well as I do. He’ll kill you—his daughter’s friend or not—if you start sniffing around his business.”

My lips form a firm line. ‘If it’s true, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving it alone, even knowing what Maxim Belov is capable of.’

‘You don’t even know if it’s true—you just admitted that yourself. My father’s drunken ramblings and a vague diary entry aren’t proof.’

We both look down at Boris, now passed out in his seat.

“Then I’ll find the proof.”

“Like that’s easy. Maxim is better guarded than the gold reserves at Fort Knox.”

I sigh. She’s not wrong, but a challenge won’t dissuade me. I vowed to myself I’d never forget—I’d avenge Masha’s death when the opportunity arose. This is the first solid lead I’ve had, and I’m sticking to my promise. Her murder will not go unanswered, no matter what it costs me.

“I don’t know how, but I’m going to figure this out,” I announce before breaking from Liza’s hold and striding towards the main ballroom.

She calls to me, but I don’t turn around.

I need to see Maxim for myself. Scanning the room, I spot him surrounded by a group of men, all hanging onto his every word. His gaze lifts to mine, and in an instant, I’m caught, unable to look away from his commanding stare.

A chill runs down my spine. His lips twist into a smirk, clearly amused by my unease, but I stand my ground.

Whatever secrets he’s hiding, I will unearth them before I burn him alive. I don’t know how, only that I’ll find a way. And somewhere in all of this, I’ll free Aly from his grasp too.

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve done two laps of the ballroom, staked out the washroom, and checked the hallways, but I can’t find Aly anywhere. I feel bad that I left her to fend for herself for so long. I’m sure tonight feels never-ending for her.

As I push through the crowd, a waiter grabs my elbow, guiding me to the side. Irritated, I’m about to pull my arm away, but as he steps forward into the light, my breath catches in my throat.

‘Andrei?’ I whisper.

My eldest brother, the Kozlov Bratva pakhan, stands before me disguised as a waiter, complete with a wig and an absurdly fake mustache. Under any other circumstances the situation would be laughable, but right now it feels surreal.

I’ve never been so relieved and horrified to see anyone in my life. Relieved because Andrei always makes everything better, but horrified by what Maxim will do to him if he’s discovered.

“Are you hurt?” he whispers darkly. “Has he mistreated you? I swear to God, if he put his hands on you⁠—”

‘He hasn’t hurt us…’ I hesitate. Aly will be furious if I tell my brother the truth because she’s convinced Maxim will make good on his promise to kill her loved ones, especially Leo. But I can’t pretend everything is fine. ‘The situation isn’t great.”

Andrei glances around, ensuring we’re not overheard. ‘No kidding. That’s why we’re here. To get you guys out.’

‘Who else is here?’

‘Only Daniil, Leo, and Yulian,’ he replies, referring to our other two brothers and Aly’s brother, Yulian. “We snuck in as…’ Andrei pulls a face and gestures to his ridiculous waiter costume. ‘We’ve looped the security cameras, but we don’t have long. We need to put some distance between us and Belov’s men before they realize you’re gone.’

I clasp my hands together tightly, our grim reality crashing down. ‘He has a damn army. Leaving here unnoticed won’t be easy.’

Andrei grimaces. ‘There are helicopters waiting for us a few miles out. We won’t have a chance like this again—we need to take it.’

My heartbeat quickens. Escaping from Maxim is reckless, dangerous, but Andrei is right. This is likely our only opportunity to break free. Even if it makes uncovering the truth about Masha’s death all the more difficult, I have to do what’s best for my friend. And what’s best for her is escaping Maxim, even if I can’t shake the feeling that he’ll pursue her to the ends of the earth.

Anxiously, I scan the room. ‘I don’t know where Aly is,’ I admit.

‘She’s in the wine cellar with Leo, which is where we’re all to meet. Walk out of here like you’re heading towards the washroom and then make your first sharp right. Go down the stairs heading into the basement. I’ll meet you there.”

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to appear calm and composed, even though my nerves are stretched tight like piano wires. Walking across the expanse of the room, I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, silently praying I don’t encounter Maxim on my way out.

My shoulders drop an inch as I reach the basement and Daniil and Yulian step out of the shadows. The sight of them floods me with relief. Daniil’s eyes light up, and without a word, he strides forward, lifting me off the ground in a quick, tight hug.

“I can’t believe you guys pulled this off,” I marvel. “You’re all crazy, you know that?”

My brother gives me one of his signature roguish grins. “Like we were going to leave you here in Belov’s evil clutches.”

Evil is exactly right. But there’s no time to focus on tonight’s revelations. That’s for later.

Yulian steps forward, his hand clapping onto my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. I give him a small nod and smile as Andrei appears beside me.

His first line of business is to rip off his fake mustache with a wince. ‘How did I get stuck with the shitty fake mustache? This is humiliating,’ he grumbles. Daniil opens his mouth, but Andrei cuts him off with a sharp look. ‘You are to never mention this. Ever.”

Daniil shrugs. “I make no guarantees.”

“Save the bickering until we’re out of here,” Yulian grumbles, expression tense. “Follow me.” He leads the way towards what I assume is the wine cellar. Swinging open the door, he’s the first one in the cellar-like room, sweeping Aly up in his arms. “Thank fuck you’re okay.”

“I am,” she reassures him.

“We need to get moving.” Yulian points towards the exit. “Van’s out back.”

Aly’s expression drops, hands clasped together. “I can’t,” she says. “You go. I need to stay for now. It won’t be forever, but⁠—”

Yulian’s head snaps back. “What are you talking about?”

“If you stay, I’m staying. I’m not leaving here without you,” Leo declares, his eyes locked on Aly—the love of his life he’s only just gotten back.

Before the argument can continue, the lights stutter, blanketing the wine cellar in sudden darkness.

This isn’t good.

Dread pools in my stomach, and all I can do is brace myself for whatever nightmare is about to unfold.