The Mistake

By Sam Crescent

I was the mistake.
A piece of trash.
No one wanted me.
All of my life I’d been told this. I meant nothing. I was nothing.

The Volkov Bratva made a mistake. They kidnapped me and it should have been my sister. My father wanted me dead. I expected Ivan Volkov to kill me. Instead, they killed my father, and now I’m to marry Ive Yahantov, a brigadier. I’m to be his wife. The man hates me. He doesn’t want me.

I don’t know what changes, but I go from being ignored, to being with Ive all the time. We share everything. The life I thought was only ever going to be that of a dream, becomes my reality. I’m falling for the man I thought I would hate. But nothing is ever certain. Ivan Volkov faked his death, and the repercussions of that is far and wide. My husband has enemies, and those enemies, they’ve come to collect.

I knew I was going to die young, but I had no idea life could be so cruel. I knew peace. I knew love. I knew happiness, and now, it was all going to be taken away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9780369508485

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2023 Sam Crescent

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0848-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE MISTAKE

The Volkov Bratva, 3

Sam Crescent

Copyright © 2023

Prologue

Lottie

There are many rumors surrounding my conception. It’s rather strange to think about, especially as I stood between Rage and my husband, and their enemies. My life hung in the balance. I shouldn’t have been taken, I know that. I’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The story of my life. The mistake.

One of the rumors: I was the daughter of a rat, a woman who intended to spill the Evil Savages MC club secrets. My father, Demon, who is now deceased, killed her and took me in, which is why he hated me so much. The other tale was that my father had fallen in love with a woman. I’m not quite sure if she was a club whore or someone who had nothing to do with the club. She died giving birth to me, and as she passed in Demon’s arms, his hatred for me was cemented.

My father is dead. His legacy of hatred for me lived inside myself.

Staring across the dirt, I looked at Ive, my husband. His real name is Ivan, but he never used that name since his boss, Ivan Volkov, had the same first name. He changed his to make life easier, or so he said.

Each side had guns. Rage and Ive on one side.

Their enemies, I’m not exactly sure of their names, are who I have to thank for the blurry vision, broken ankle, and broken wrist, which I hold against my chest.

It’s strange. I’d not been beaten by my father for some time, and yet, when the pain had started once again by my captives, I’d retreated back to that special place.

Ive never missed. He told me that.

From the moment I understood who I was, what I was, I knew I’d die young. Demon’s temper made sure I knew that. I couldn’t help but feel sad and angry at the same time. I expected to die young. I was nothing. I was trash. Why had I been allowed to be happy? This wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to know what I was missing out on.

Ive was not a nice man. He was cruel and had a temper, but he was the kindest person I’d ever met, which said a lot. Before him, Rage and Cassie were the only two people who were nice to me.

Lottie!

As if my thoughts had conjured her, I saw a car pull up, and there was my beautiful sister. I heard the panic in her voice, and I knew why. I was standing between two sides at war, with guns raised. The moment they started to shoot or if I moved, I was going to die. My heart raced and I felt sick to my stomach.

"You’re Volkov now, Charlotte. That means nothing will ever happen to you again."

I’d believed him.

Looking away from my sister, I turned to Ive. We couldn’t stand here forever. For one, my feet were getting tired. I couldn’t stand on one foot forever. Two, I couldn’t be selfish.

The moment I put pressure on my broken ankle, I wouldn’t make it. I couldn’t run to him, I couldn’t do anything. They knew it. When they did the damage to my body, they had laughed, knowing it was going to be the end for me.

At least I had memories. Christmases. Valentine’s Day. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Even a couple of summers of being happy. I could live with that. It was better than nothing.

The one thing I know from my short existence: life is real fucking cruel.

I took that forward step, but my ankle couldn’t take the weight. I screamed, but the sound was drowned out by gunshots.

Chapter One

Ive

Three Years Earlier

I didn’t want to get married.

Not that I had anything against women, I just … didn’t want to marry one. I loved having my freedom. There were plenty of women available and I’d never considered myself a monogamous man. I loved variety. Also, if I saw a lot of women, none of them ever had any delusions that they were anything more than willing flesh.

Yet, here I stood, on my wedding day, staring down the aisle, trying to control my anger.

Ivan Volkov had my loyalty. I would die for him. I would do anything for him. If he told me to take a bullet, I wouldn’t even hesitate. My life was completely indebted to him. When he told me I’d be marrying the unwanted daughter of a previous Evil Savages MC club President, I had hoped it was a joke. I knew he’d gotten Slavik married, as well as Andrei, but not me. I’d been next.

Running a hand down my face, I check to make sure there are no visible threats. A wedding was supposed to be a joyful event, but with Ivan in my territory, and being the man he was, he had a lot of enemies. Myself included. Some people were stupid and there had been incidences of attacks at events like this.

I didn’t care if my wedding didn’t go quite as planned. I had a feeling if I allowed my wife-to-be, Charlotte—or Lottie, as she insisted on being called—to die, Ivan would be pissed.

Ivan always had his own agenda. Sometimes he shared it with people, most of the time, he didn’t. We were all pawns in his game, and I didn’t mind that.

Ivan had taken back the Bratva, destroyed everything his previous father and members had believed, and made it his own. He’d adapted.

He’d proven himself time and time again, that he was a force to be reckoned with. It’s why I’d protect him with my life. Ivan was cruel, malicious, and at times evil to the core, but only to those that deserved it. When the rumor of his death had run through my territory and word had gotten to me, I’d been lost. That was the truth. I’d been fucking lost. He was our leader, our boss, and without him, I knew it would only be a matter of time before the Volkov Bratva fell. My only concern at the time was to try and keep everything Ivan had built, secure.

Hearing his voice over the phone shouldn’t have been a joy to me, but it had been. I never considered myself capable of love. I couldn’t love, I didn’t know how. It wasn’t something I was built to do. If I did know what it felt like, at that moment, it was the closest I’d ever come to it. No doubt about it.

You look nervous.

I turned to see Slavik approach. It was rare for Slavik Ivanov to be in my territory but here he was. The first brigadier to be married off. From what my sources tell me, he’s a very happily married man. Of course there are always mixed rumors. Considering Aurora was still alive, and they had recently had a child together, I would say the happily married man rumors were more accurate.

One of the few things I prided myself on was my power of observation, and I knew Slavik was happy with his wife. Powerful men had to be subtle while out in public. The way whenever Aurora was near, Slavik would touch her. A small caress to the wrist, the gentle touch to her back, even the way he would graze her knee with his own. Of course, the smile Aurora often gave to Slavik. His serious expression never wavered, but it was in his eyes. Always in his eyes.

I’ve got nothing to be nervous about, I said. There was nothing for me to worry about. Charlotte was who I had to marry. This was my job. Ivan wanted to create peace with the Evil Savages MC, more specifically Rage, who was now President of the club, and I had no doubt wasn’t going to make life easy for us.

The Evil Savages MC had always been a thorn in my side, and would continue to be. They were not the first MC and I doubt would be the last to attempt to take more territory or to invade our turf without an invite. There was going to be a war between us—the more important question was when.

I was growing bored with waiting for my intended bride. Charlotte would be easy to train. If she stepped out of line, she’d be thrown into one of my dungeons or caves. I possessed quite a few of them. Over the year I’d come to see the power of isolation, especially as a tool.

Most people didn’t realize how crazy they could get by being forced alone, especially when I exposed them to the elements, or better yet, utter darkness and rodents. It was something I’d learned to embrace.

Some might say I have a screw loose in the head, but really, I’m a natural born survivor. It’s what Ivan had said to me often. No one fucked with me and if they even dared to, they often ended up begging a lot sooner than I anticipated. I liked to have fun.

Nothing to be nervous about. You’re about to be married. Bringing two warring families together, and you’re not worried.

Looking at Slavik, I don’t smile. There’s no way for me to smile. I’m not happy, nor am I sad.

This is the job, Ivanov. You know this.

Slavik forced a smile to his lips and gently bowed, before stepping back. He was pissed off, but I didn’t care. There was no reason for us to have a polite conversation.

Staring across the church, I notice the MC are getting antsy. I totally understand. I’m tempted to glance down at the time, but I don’t do that either. I refuse to show any kind of weakness.

Where the fuck was Charlotte? I refuse to call her Lottie. It’s not her name. It sounded childish to me, like someone couldn’t be bothered to say her actual name. I also notice Ivan Volkov is nowhere to be found. There was only one other place for him to be and that meant he was with my soon-to-be bride. Why? Charlotte was not an important person. She’d been handed to us and even encouraged by her father to be killed. He wanted her dead. Ivan, like always, had other plans. In the beginning, she had put up a fight, being quite violent as she attempted to make a break for it. Her body was no match for the bars of my cages.

Unlike some of my other prisoners, I had fed Charlotte. At first, she refused to eat. My staff also couldn’t go into her prison or any room I placed her, as she often found ways of escaping, so it had been left to me.

Of course, on my country property, where I’d taken her, there had been no place for her to run. My grounds were secured tight. I had cameras everywhere, with access to them, twenty-four seven. It had been easy to find her. Every single time.

When I’d started to take her food, she hadn’t been able to escape. Her tricks didn’t work on me. Each time she attempted to faint, I’d closed the door, locked it, and placed the food on the table. She’d refuse to eat, and I was okay with that. I sat and waited until she ate the food. Between the two of us, she got incredibly bored fast. Not me. I found her behavior interesting.

She didn’t go crazy being alone or locked up. I had a feeling I knew why, but I never approached the subject. Charlotte was not there to make friends.

Ivan Volkov suddenly entered the main church and walked down the aisle. His jacket was buttoned up and his strides were purposeful. He nodded at some people, before approaching me and Slavik.

Has she run? I asked. I hoped she had. She wouldn’t get far, but for a tiny hour or so, I might get my freedom back.

No, she is ready. Rage is bringing her down. Cassie, her sister, will be entering the main aisle soon.

I stared at Ivan. Something was off about him. Different. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he didn’t seem like himself. I wanted to ask him if everything was okay, but now was not the time.

The church went silent and Ivan moved into position as did Slavik. Victor Abdulov and Peter Orlov, along with Andrei Belov, were also present at my wedding. All of Ivan’s remaining brigadiers. Oleg Pavlov was gone. Not that I ever liked that manipulating son of a bitch. He was the one brigadier Ivan placed, that I couldn’t stand.

If I was being truthful, I didn’t like any of them, but Oleg had been the one I couldn’t stand. Part of me had known he’d become a traitor, and I’d been proven right. He’d been the one I would have taken the war to if Ivan had died. As it was, Ivan wasn’t dead, Oleg was, and until Ivan picked a sixth brigadier, he and the remaining five of us had been dealing with Oleg’s business deals and assets. Everything he had been or hoped to be was neatly wrapped up for us to claim for the Volkov Bratva.

Cassie entered the main church, followed quickly by Aurora and Adelaide. The last two were Slavik and Andrei’s wives. They were dressed as bridesmaids. Other than Cassie, Charlotte didn’t have anyone else to be a bridesmaid. She had no friends, nothing.

Ivan had asked Aurora and Adelaide, and the two women had agreed. They hadn’t even met Charlotte. No one had. She’d been in my country home the entire time Ivan organized this wedding. I could only imagine he used a wedding planner, otherwise, he did this all himself.

With the bridesmaids across from me, it was time to bring my bride.

I spotted Rage. He sported his leather cut. Ivan had insisted on it being a tuxedo affair, but like all the Evil Savages MC, they hadn’t listened to Ivan. That was their first mistake. Rage was in charge of the club, but there would be consequences for not following Ivan’s orders.

Charlotte’s face was hidden behind a veil. She held onto Rage’s arm. I did notice the tightness of her grip. The dress she wore was beautiful. The veil came to below her chin, but the dress had no straps. The bodice was molded to her like a corset, wrapping around her tits, gliding down her waist, and ending at her hips. It gave the illusion of a tiny waist.

Charlotte was not a small woman. Trust me, I knew. The few times I’d caught up with her, she’d gone limp in my arms, attempting to drag me down and stop me from taking her back to my home. She was not light.

She possessed curves, and when she wasn’t trying to starve herself, she also had quite a bit of an appetite. I’m not going to lie, I enjoyed watching her eat. It was a pleasure I didn’t think I’d enjoy but I did.

Rage got her close and I took the few steps down, waiting for him to place her hand within mine. Ivan insisted we follow tradition. Rage was not Charlotte’s father, but with how he’d fought for her and turned against his original MC President, he was the closest thing she had to a father. I didn’t trust him.

He lifted her veil and I saw the tears in her eyes. Rage hesitated. He held her hands and I tensed up, waiting.

No one should have guns at the church, but everyone had a way of sneaking them inside. I had one strapped to my leg. I also had three knives inside my trousers. I never went anywhere without being prepared.

Rage placed her hand in mine, but I knew he didn’t want to. As for Charlotte, she shook. I expected her to put up a fight, but she surprised me. I moved her up the steps and she followed. It was then I noticed her feet were bare. She didn’t wear any heels. I wanted to ask her why, but now was not the time.

The music came to a stop and a priest started his sermon. I drowned out the noise because I wasn’t interested. There was a time I did have faith and believed in a higher power. It had taken years for that belief to be stripped from me, but it had, and now, I ignored the words. They meant nothing. They were nothing.

Neither of us had written vows and when the time came to recite them, Ivan stepped in and whispered against the priest’s ear, and the priest’s face went bright red. I didn’t know what Ivan said, but it was enough to make the priest blush. I had to stifle a laugh.

He asked the question about anyone objecting to the marriage and part of me wanted Rage to scream out, to tell them that he did, that he didn’t want us to get married. My wedding would end in a bloodbath, and I so wanted to kill someone.

Nothing. No one said a word.

You may kiss the bride.

Now there was a whimper. The sound was subtle but I heard it. Charlotte looked terrified.

Tough. She had to kiss me.

****

Lottie

You may now kiss the bride.

This is so not fair.

I’m eighteen years old and forced into a marriage I don’t want. My husband, Ive Yahontov, looked pissed off. I was not surprised. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he didn’t want to get married. Neither did I. Why did he have to glare at me?

I wish I’d worn the heels. I’m a short person. I’ve been small all my life so a lot of people tower over me. The shoes had hurt my feet. I’d only worn them for a few minutes, but I wasn’t used to wearing heels. I liked my sneakers. They made running a lot easier. I wish I had sneakers. I wish my life had been different. No, that wasn’t true, I wish I had never been fucking born. If I’d died on that day instead of my mother, there would have been no life to worry about. No panicking when my dad had one of his anger issues to deal with.

Even though panic had started to build up inside me, I’d spent years perfecting my mask. When at the club, hearing the insults my father threw my way, or beer bottles, or anything he wanted to vent his anger out on, I didn’t show any emotion. I wasn’t allowed to. The more I showed, the more acute his anger got.

Unlike Cassie, I wasn’t loved. My father had even welcomed my death. He’d told Ivan Volkov to kill me. He didn’t care about his daughter being in the hands of his enemy. If it had been Cassie taken, he’d have taken the whole club and slaughtered everyone.

Me? Nothing. No one. Instead, Rage, the only person who’d been kind to me, had to turn on his very own in order to save me. It’s why I was here. It’s why he didn’t point a gun at my head and take me out of the equation. I didn’t know what the consequences would be for him, and I didn’t want him to suffer.

Ive leaned in close and his lips brushed against mine. There were no feelings. He kissed me.

The church was still silent and then a round of applause, followed by the music. Ive pulled away from me but kept a firm grip on my hand. He knew I was tempted to run, even without my sneakers. Back at his home, I’d run. I’d done anything I could to get as far away from him as possible. He wasn’t quite so easily tricked as his staff or servants or slaves, whatever he wanted to call them.

Other men approached. A couple of them I recognized. They shook Ive’s hand and then kissed my cheek. Again, years of practicing not to react came in handy. Aurora, Adelaide, and Cassie came over, embracing me. I didn’t feel anything. There was nothing to feel. Nothing to acknowledge.

Cassie held me tighter but it didn’t last. Ive hadn’t let go of my hand and I turned to see Ivan Volkov.

You’re one of our own now, Ivan said.

He was a strange man. There were times he’d come into my company and neither of us had talked. Like today, he’d stared at me and told me I looked beautiful. I didn’t believe him. Trash never looked pretty.

"Get your fucking ugly face out of here."

"I should shoot you in the face, it would make you look more interesting."

"No man is ever going to want you."

"Put a bag over your face."

Because my father didn’t want to see my face, one day to humiliate me, he’d cut holes in a paper bag and forced me to wear it for an entire week. The only time I didn’t have to, was to go to school. Once I got home, the paper bag went back on my head. For the whole week, he didn’t hurt me. I’d been so relieved that I’d been tempted to wear it permanently, but he’d needed someone to vent his anger, and even with the paper bag, he’d needed to hurt me, so he had.

The paper bag had been useless to me.

Pushing those memories aside, I had no choice but to follow Ive’s lead. I was starting to see the error of my ways with not wearing shoes. It was not my brightest idea.

It would seem people didn’t always come empty-handed and there were crumbs on the floor, dirty, used pens, and other items. I’m pretty sure I saw an earring, and I was able to step over it without it piercing my foot. How did someone lose an earring? It wasn’t a small stud either, but a large diamond, the kind that dangled from a woman’s ear and looked beautiful, often too large for the woman’s ear as it seemed to stretch down. Why the fuck was I thinking about how women’s earrings looked? This was my wedding.

We went outside and it was hot. Summer was coming to an end. I hated summer, but loved winter. I didn’t mind fall and spring but I hated summer. The heat, the sunlight, the happiness everyone seemed to have at wearing less clothes. Like my dress. I hated my dress. It showed way too much skin. At least it hadn’t exposed my back, but then, no one could show my back. Years of taking Father’s belt hadn’t done my back justice. There were a lot of scars. Not just on my back, but on my front and my thighs.

When my father had succumbed to his rage, he had liked to hit every part of me but my face. He did like to slap me, and he’d even given me a black eye once, but I had a feeling he didn’t like the way some of his men looked at him when they saw me. It was rare for me to get a black eye or a split lip. If I got one, he’d seriously lost control.

The sun glared down, giving me no choice but to squint through my eyes. It was way too bright.

There were several people with cameras. Ivan hadn’t been joking. This was a real marriage, with real people. But this wasn’t a real marriage, not like normal people have. I didn’t know why Ivan chose me.

For what felt like an eternity, I was told to smile, look lovingly at my husband, then toward the camera as we were photographed. There were not many pictures of me growing up. My father refused to have any memories of me. At the clubhouse, there were loads of Cassie. She’d been the true princess, the daughter he loved. I was nothing. Trash. No one took pictures of trash. No one hugged trash. No one told trash that everything was going to be all right. What they did to trash was ignore it. That is what I was used to.

Being touched is strange to me. Even when Rage hugged me, it was hard for me to truly understand and even allow myself to feel anything from that simple embrace.

This was a death sentence. I knew that. The Volkov Bratva was not a good … anything. They were dangerous, deadly, and my life had a ticking clock attached to it. Tick tock. It wouldn’t be long until I took my last breath.

Pictures were taken with my bridesmaids, my sister, Ivan, my husband, and with the brigadiers, or the only surviving ones. One of them was dead. Like my father.

And just like that, the photographs had come to an end, and now it was time to … what? I didn’t know. Ive walked us toward a limousine, held the door open for me. I slid inside, getting as close to the other door as possible. On instinct, I tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no way to open it. I tried slamming my whole body against it. Nothing.

Do you think I would allow you to run on our wedding day? he asked.

Why not? It’s not like you want to be married to me.

True.

His words don’t hurt me. It takes a lot to hurt, insult, and offend me. At least my father gave me a thick skin. I think I could take a beating without ratting out anyone. Staring out the window, I watch the passing scenery, not quite taking it in.

When was I going to