A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 19

Two days later

The streaming light fell on Miran’s shoulders as he cracked open an eye. Turning his groggy eyes to the right, his gaze fell on blissful and sleepy Lada.

Pulling on his boxers, he tiptoed out of his room, careful not to awaken her. Once he’d reached the living room, he dialed a number.

On the third ring, a smooth voice answered, “Yes, Miran?”

“We need to talk, Zander.”

It was time to put an end to this mess for good.

❖

Miran and Lada stood in front of Alexander.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lada asked with hesitation.

He flashed a smirk. “Yes. Trust me.”

Her lips formed a tiny smile, and with a cane, she stepped into the sidelines with his help. Alexander had gathered an audience at Alexei’s residence with over thirty people.

The Bratva Brotherhood.

All eyes were on him as he stood there in his silver satin shirt and black pants, his badge pressed firmly clipped against his black belt.

Miran eyed Alexander sitting in a red velvet chair with golden handlebars.

The throne.

His cousin’s black, straight hair was tucked behind his ears, a striking contrast against his stark pale complexion. His dark eyes analyzed every single one of Miran’s movements. His hand rested on his knee that was propped up. Miran smirked that he’d gotten too comfortable in his position. His cousin wore all black. His long, fitted blazer clung tightly to his lean muscles as he held eye contact with him.

“Miran Demir, could I ask why you have wanted this meeting with my people after dishonoring one of our weddings?” Alexander spoke.

“You cannot kill me.”

Alexander dropped his foot onto the ground and sat upright.

“And why not?” he challenged, apparently, no longer caring that he and Miran were blood cousins or the fact that he was Chief of the DEA.

Miran turned toward the Vors.

The Russian soldiers aimed their guns at Miran’s chest, ready to shoot him on the spot. He curiously eyed each man that stood circling him. Today, it didn’t matter that he was from the police force. He was in their territory, alone, and he knew they weren’t afraid to kill him if their Pakhan ordered. They could easily do it now. He hadn’t brought his army—the rest of the DEA squad—with him.

He’d come alone to a vicious den of stingers.

This isn’t over, Mir.

Alexander’s words still echoed in his mind.

One day, my hand might just be forced.

The last time, Sasha had come for him, the next time, Adrian and his sons might, or maybe Alexander himself.

It was time to put an end to all of this.

No more hiding who he was anymore.

“My name is Miran Demir,” he replied in a clear, deep voice.

His eyes fell on Alexander.

“Demir,” he repeated, turning to look at the eyes of the Bratva men.

“Thirty-two years ago, a Bratva printsessa gave birth to a son. I am the son of Roza Ivanova and Kaya Demir.”

He’d done it, at last.

For his mother, he’d kept his identity a secret.

… but for Lada, he’d revealed his identity to everyone, and he had no regrets.

Gasps and shouts filled the room. People stared at him with curiosity, studying him.

The Russian Vors surrounding him looked at him in confusion before glancing at their Pakhan. A couple of them lowered their guns, although many loyal to Alexander still pointed them at Miran.

“And I’m the rightful heir to this throne.”

Miran jerked his chin in the direction of the golden seat Alexander sat in.

Alexander clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes narrowing.

“My grandparents were Maxim Ivanov and Elena Ivanova. My mother is the Bratva printsessa, and my father was a Russian soldier. You cannot kill me because…” He mockingly smiled, “I claim the seat as Pakhan.”

Surprised gasps and outcries filled the air, all the voices speaking over one another, trying to dominate the room.

Alexander raised a hand, and everyone silenced.

“You can be Enzo Vitalli’s son, for all we know. Roza Ivanova married him at one point. You don’t have a claim, just like Vladimir Vitalli doesn’t,” Alexander protested.

A sense of uneasiness passed through the crowd at the mention of the Italian family.

Miran’s lip turned up in a cold smile.

“Perhaps, a simple DNA test can prove that, or you can ask…” His eyes went to Alexei sitting on a chair next to Alexander. “Ask your formal ruler who I truly am.”

Everyone glanced in at Alexei, waiting for his confirmation.

Miran held in a breath, hoping that he would agree.

Alexei grazed through his long, white beard. He cleared his throat and didn’t meet Alexander’s eyes.

“It’s true. Miran Demir is the long-lost son of the Bratva.”

Pleased, Miran smirked. Uncle Alexei for the win.

“You’re doing this all for her?” Alexander questioned, changing the topic, and glancing at Lada. “Why?”

Her cheeks pinked, and her body flushed.

“Because I want her as my wife.”

Dead silence greeted the air.

“Does she even want to?” Alexander questioned.

Miran arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about consent? When I’d turned down the alliance, you picked the next man for her without asking her.”

Alexander only stared sternly.

“If it makes you feel better, alright,” Miran turned his face toward Lada’s beautiful face, “Lada Sokolova, marry me.”

It wasn’t a request nor a proposal.

She’d already agreed to marry him in private, now, she could give her agreement publicly.

“Yes. I accept.”

Miran’s pleased eyes fell on the throne Alexander sat in.

“If I win, I’m taking the throne, Adrian Sokolov as my prisoner, and Lada as my wife.”

Alexander arched an eyebrow.

“That’s a lot of conditions. Why do you want Adrian, my councilor?”

Miran hesitated in revealing the truth. He hadn’t even told Lada. He avoided her eyes as he spoke, “I want his surrender. He’s under investigation for drug and human trafficking.”

Alexander immediately rose from his seat, and the room filled with gasps again.

“That’s impossible. I don’t sell women.”

Miran smiled sadly. “You don’t, cousin, but he does… We have a record of transactions performed under his name. He has an off-shore account filled with millions.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed, and he stayed silent.

Miran swallowed thickly and forced himself to continue, “He turns innocent girls into mules. They swallow the drugs to carry out the trade, and they are sold to men at the same time.”

Alexander’s jaw ticked, and his eyes filled with disbelief.

After a few moments, he glanced down at Miran’s broken hand and his head that were now bandaged. “Alright. We duel in a cage fight with no weapons in two weeks when you’re healed. Fair fight. No one will come after you or Lada now. Only I will.”

Miran grazed the hair on his chin.

“You’re in my seat, cousin. Be prepared to give it up.”

❖

Two weeks later

Miran was already in the ring when Alexander came in.

There was no cheering, and the surrounding faces in the seats were filled with confusion on who to root for.

He eyed his cousin as he entered the steel arena.

Alexander was shirtless, just like him, and wore black shorts. His cousin was all lean and hard muscled. Miran’s eyes fell on black and blue markings on his pale skin. Even though they were related, the only two physical things they might have in common were their height and dark hair.

They looked too different from one another.

Miran was too tanned, darker in skin tone than his cousin, and tattooed-free. His eyes swept the ink running both front and back, covering a full sleeve on his cousin’s body. The Bratva oath was in large letters running around his midsection.

I have no body, no soul, no name. I am Bratva.

Today Miran was Bratva without being initiated.

They were stuck in a gray metal cage.

A single death match with no breaks.

Alexander’s dark eyes accused Miran as he stood a distance away from him. “This could have been fucking avoided if you had listened to me for once.”

All eyes were on them, and everyone followed their conversation.

Miran only shrugged. “Give it your best shot now.”

“You would really take my seat, cousin?” Alexander’s voice dropped, and his eyes flashed betrayal.

Miran felt a tingle of guilt for revealing his identity.

“It was never yours. Besides, I had no choice after the situation you left me in.”

“You always have a choice,” Alexander gritted through his teeth. “I can’t believe someone like you, the least romantic person of all, can be so whipped and turned to putty in the hands of a female, that you would turn against me too.”

Miran hid a smile. “The hands are soft. Maybe you should search for your own too.”

Alexander scoffed, “The only thing they’re good for is holding my dick.” Before Miran could counter, his cousin continued, “Let’s fight.”

He fell quiet as they both circled each other like predators. When they were younger, they sparred against each other. Alexander was well-trained, the best of the Bratva, and the deadliest. His cousin’s black eyes darkened, and he rubbed a long hand down his face. They both lunged at each other at the same time, never the ones to hold back and wait for the opponent to make a move.

He raised his fist and punched Alexander across the stomach, making him grunt. Taking advantage, he slammed his elbow down Alexander’s back but avoided throwing his full body weight onto it. He didn’t want to break his cousin’s spine, so he held back his fighting skills.

His cousin went down on his knee for a few moments before he lifted his head, and his eyes turned feral.

Sinister.

Alexander jumped up and smashed a deep blow across Miran’s stomach. He grunted, then his cousin smashed a fist against his mouth, erupting blood from it.

Both of their first two hits were lethal.

A gush of pain jostled through his body. Stars burst in Miran’s vision. The blood in his veins hummed with adrenaline. He moved forward and punched his cousin in the jaw, making him grunt. Then, he kicked him in the chest full force. His cousin flew back a few steps before pausing. He flashed Miran a twisted smile before charging at him and kicking his feet under him. Miran landed on all fours before quickly rising.

Snarling, he reached out and grabbed Alexander by the throat, his intent clear in his eyes. Just as he added pressure to his neck, his cousin punched him in the back of the head, the same sore spot where his head injury was previously.

Miran dropped his hold. He didn’t wear bandages anymore, but he still needed one more week for his wound to fully recover. Miran clenched the area where Alexander had hit him. His stomach burned, and his legs weakened.

The blood in his veins churned and whooshed past his ears. His rage blazed inside him. He gazed menacingly at Alexander, his thirst for blood running through his body.

Fucking asshole.

If there was a referee, that would have been cheating.

Miran had gone easy on him, but his cousin didn’t care that they were related anymore. His fists clenched in and out until his nails stabbed his palms. Like a lion, he charged at Alexander, knocking him down on his back before throwing punches into his face, one after the other. He hit his cousin’s jawline, and his mouth gurgled out of his mouth.

Alexander reached out and punched Miran across the face before flipping him over, climbing on top, and hitting him with his fists. The same pattern continued for a few minutes.

No one held back anymore.

They became a blurred mess of chaos, punches, and kicks. Miran couldn’t recognize which blood was his and which one belonged to Alexander. They looked the same now. Stumbling apart briefly to catch their breath, they charged at each other again, determined to win. They exchanged punches before grabbing each other’s throats.

In the background, shouts erupted, but they didn’t stop because they were too lost in the fight.

The arena’s door burst open.

“Freeze! FBI!” a shout erupted in the arena.

Miran paused in mid-punch, and Alexander lost the anger in his eyes.

A raid. They both lowered their arms and glanced at their surroundings swarming with federal agents. Shots were being fired in the air, and the arena filled with chaos, screams, and curses. Miran’s eyes focused on Adrian Sokolov being arrested by one officer.

One of the FBI officers pointed a gun at Alexander. Miran’s eyes widened, and he pushed him out of the way.

“Zander, look out!”

Both of their sore bodies tumbled to the floor.

His cousin breathed hard next to him until his breathing resumed to normal. Miran observed his cousin as he raked a hand through his tousled, sweaty hair.

“How long are they going to keep them in?” Alexander asked, breathlessly.

“Until twenty-four hours, then, the charges will be dropped. As long as your men don’t shoot them.”

“They know better than to shoot cops,” Alexander murmured. Then, he turned to glance at him. “You think anyone suspects us?”

Miran grinned through a bloody mouth. “Not a chance.”

Alexander high-fived Miran’s sore hand.

❖

Two weeks earlier

He was on the phone with his cousin.

“What did you do with Sasha’s body?” Alexander asked.

“Cremated.”

Alexander was silent before he spoke, bewildered, “You’re asking me to betray my men?”

“I’m your people too. Family comes before anything.”

“You’re asking me to play the Bratva?”

“Do you have a better option?” Miran demanded.

“What about your death?” Alexander questioned.

Miran scoffed, “Killing me won’t help you. The DEA will come after you by then. You can’t easily kill me that people will forget and move on.” He exhaled slowly and said, “There is something you should know. I married Lada in a private ceremony, and she is legally my wife now.”

“What?” Alexander snapped, “And you didn’t invite me?”

“I’ll hold a reception for you and everyone else… Besides, do you want to make her a widow and your aunt Roza and Uncle Kaya childless? Not to mention, Vlad just got a brother. Do you really want to take that away from everyone? My life is linked to so many.”

Alexander sighed over the phone.

Miran continued, explaining everything again.

“I will call the FBI, and they will do a raid, interrupting the match halfway. I’ve worked with some before when our jurisdictions overlapped, and they trust me. I can’t bring the DEA in. Your men will suspect me of cheating. Once the FBI comes in, there will be no winner then. It will be a tie. I’ll have someone pretend to shoot you and I’ll rescue you. In everyone’s eyes, I will be a hero for saving their Pakhan. Later, you will feel a sense of pity and gratefulness for me because I saved your sorry ass, and you will pardon me of my so-called crimes. That’s the plan. Got it?”

“You are a real fucker, you know that?” Alexander chuckled. “Imagine if you were Pakhan.”

“If I was Pakhan, all of your men would be dead.”

His cousin was quiet for a second before he asked, “What if the DEA doesn’t come on time?”

“Then, one of us is dying.”

❖

Present

Alexander glanced up and his eyes darkened.

Miran followed his cousins’ movements to see where he was looking. His eyes fell on a tall, willowy, beautiful woman with her husband near the arena’s exit.

Dahlia.

They both came to the cage match after he’d filled them in, and he’d ordered the FBI beforehand not to lay a finger on them.

Miran returned his gaze to his cousin and glared.

Alexander caught him looking before asking, “Did you ever hit that?”

Dick. Miran shoved him by the shoulders and Alexander grunted in pain.

Alexander wiped the blood off his face.

“She is flawless… lucky Vlad.” Then, under his breath, he added, “Bastard.”

“Don’t let him hear you talking about his wife like that. He will cut off your dick and make you eat it.”

“I wouldn’t mind starting a war for her,” Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Salvi Moretti did once.”

“Not happening again. Get your eyes off her before I end up gauging them out.”

Finally, Alexander looked away from Dahlia.

“When are you settling down? You’re getting old,” Miran declared.

Alexander only blinked. “Says you, Grandpa. I’m four years younger than you.”

Miran tried to prevent a smile, but it broke free on his face. He winced, and it hurt to smile too much. Leaning his elbows on the cage floor, he collapsed on it. He was so tired, and he wanted to return home with Lada and kiss her with his injured mouth.

“You’re not much different from me, cousin,” Alexander pointed out. “You like power too.”

He did. There was no denying that.

“When did you first realize you thought differently than other cops?”

Miran paused, lifted his head, and stared at Dahlia.

“When I helped her.”

“You lived with her for two years, and you didn’t even touch her once,” Alexander scoffed. “What a shame.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, and take your eyes off her. I won’t warn you again. She’s had enough mobsters obsessed with her to last a lifetime. Leave her in peace.”

“When are you sending a hot agent after me?”

Miran chuckled. “I’m in between recruits. I need a replacement.”

Alexander’s dark eyes twinkled.

He shook his head. “And no, I’m not sending anyone for you. I don’t need more agents falling in love with their cases,” he joked.

Hiding a smile, Miran closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head, resting for a few seconds. It didn’t last long because his eyes popped open when something hit his leg. He popped open an eye.

A small, pretty creature stood in between his legs with a cane.

She was always hitting him. Not that he minded.

“Ready to go home?” Lada asked, grinning.

Miran nodded, and slowly, grunting. Lada offered her hand, even though her aim was off. He grabbed it and made his way up. Lada tried to help him up, but his weight almost pulled her down to himself. And Alexander… he glanced at his cousin who was a bloody, pitiful mess himself. After a few moments, he reached out a hand and offered it to Alexander. His cousin grabbed it, and he lifted himself.

“Miran Demir, you are a free man. I’ll make an official statement to my men when they return,” Alexander murmured. Then, he turned to Lada, “Congratulations on your marriage.”

Then, he walked away without a backward glance.

“Are you hurt?” Lada asked, frowning

She reached out to inspect his face and body. He guided her to him. He really wished she would stop inspecting him though. He had a boner the first time she did it at the wedding. He chuckled under her touch. Grabbing her soft hand, he kissed the back of it.

“I’ll live, Kiska.”

She grinned before her smile disappeared.

“I heard people saying you arrested my father?”

“Yes,” Miran replied without missing a beat.

Her lip turned downward before she exhaled slowly.

He noticed and carefully said, “Lada, your father was arrested and charged for human and drug trafficking. He was using Zander to get deals. He betrayed him.”

She blinked slowly and tucked the loose tendrils behind her ear. “My love, it is not my father who does the mule drug and sex trade. I’ve been holding onto a secret for so long, but now it has become a burden. My father was only a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall.”

Lada stared with dimmed eyes at his unspoken questions.

“You don’t know how dangerous the Bratva really is and how he has kept you in the dark this entire time.”

Miran looked to the exit, and his cousin glanced back. Those cold dark, sinister eyes meeting his warm ones. His cousin smiled slyly before disappearing through the door.

Lada spoke again.

“It was Pakhan’s idea. Alexander Nikolaev is the ringleader.”