Moscow – Two Weeks Later
Snowflakes twirled in the frigid air, landing softly on Neil's coat like whispers from the shadows of past foes. Moscow felt colder than he remembered—not just in temperature, but in its very essence. The city was a blend of steel and silence, shaped by war and betrayal.
Neil stepped out of the sleek black SUV, his boots crunching on the fresh snow. The imposing gates of the **Bratva Syndicate Mansion** towered before him, ancient iron adorned with the image of twin wolves—an age-old symbol of Russian brotherhood.
"Is this a good idea?" Lydia's voice crackled through his earpiece from halfway across the globe.
"No," Neil replied, striding through the gates. "But it's necessary."
Inside the mansion, warmth and death coexisted. Fires blazed in stone hearths, while men clad in fur coats and armed with assault rifles lined the walls. At the center, on a throne carved from black oak, sat the man known as **Mikhail Orlov**—the head of the Bratva.
His beard was white, but his eyes were as sharp as blades. He clapped once, and the room fell into silence.
"So," Mikhail growled in Russian. "The Angelo bloodline makes its return."
Neil stepped forward. "And the Orlov name still hides behind walls."
Mikhail let out a dark chuckle. "You sound just like your father."
"Then you understand why I'm here."
The tension in the room thickened.
"I want the man who killed Angelo," Neil stated flatly. "I know he's here, under your protection."
Mikhail took a slow sip of vodka. "You think I harbor murderers in my home?"
"I know you keep weapons," Neil countered. "And secrets. This is no different."
A tall woman emerged from behind the throne. Jet-black hair, pale skin, and a silver pistol at her hip. She moved with the elegance of a panther. Mikhail nodded in her direction.
"This is **Tatiana Volkov**," he introduced. "My goddaughter. And your guide—if you make it through the trials."
"Trials?" Neil asked, confusion flickering across his face.
Mikhail smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You want the killer? First, you must prove yourself to the Bratva.
"Three tests. One night."
Neil clenched his jaw. "What if I say no?"
Mikhail leaned in closer. "Then your father's sacrifice means nothing."
---
**Bratva Trial One – The Pit**
A steel cage deep underground. A crowd of dozens watched, no rules in sight. Neil stepped into the ring against a massive opponent—bald, covered in tattoos, and ready to fight bare-knuckled.
The bell rang.
Neil dodged the first punch, then another. He ducked, spun around, and landed a hit to the ribs. He heard a bone crack. The Russian roared, grabbing Neil by the throat.
Neil gasped, his fingers clawing at the man's grip—then he elbowed the guy's knee, sending him crashing to the ground.
Climbing on top, Neil unleashed a flurry of brutal strikes until the man lay still.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Blood dripped from Neil's brow, but he didn't flinch.
---
**Bratva Trial Two – The Vault**
Tatiana guided him into a secure armory, where lasers crisscrossed the walls.
"You've got one minute," she instructed. "Get the black case."
Neil ducked under a beam, slid across the floor, hacked the terminal using Lydia's backdoor script, and snatched the case.
Inside was a folder labeled **HORIZON – PART 2**.
Neil grinned. "That's two down."
---
**Bratva Trial Three – The Choice**
Neil was brought into a dimly lit room. Two prisoners knelt before him—one a Bratva traitor, the other a Chinese Triad informant.
Mikhail's voice echoed ominously. "Only one of them walks out alive. The other dies by your hand. Show your loyalty."
Neil looked at both men. The Triad informant averted his gaze. The Bratva man held Neil's stare.
"I choose neither," Neil declared.
He pulled out his gun and shot the security camera.
Then he turned, grabbed both prisoners, and walked out.
---
**Later That Night**
Tatiana approached him outside the mansion.
"You disobeyed," she said, her tone serious.
"I also made it out alive," Neil shot back.
She studied him for a moment, then... smiled.
"You're different from the rest."
"No," Neil replied. "I'm worse."
She slipped him a piece of paper. Just a name.
**Viktor Ivanov – Kazan Warehouse, Midnight.**
"The guy you're after," she murmured. "He's waiting for you."
Neil nodded, his eyes ablaze with determination.
"Then it's time to put an end to this."
---
**To Be Continued in Chapter 4: "The Man with the Wolf Eyes"**