A very important A/N: (please read me!)Well, here I go again. I should be the poster child for ADD. But alas, I just couldn't leave this story alone, and the more I wrote it, the more I fell in love with it. Right off the bat, I need to lay out some warnings. This is a very different story than what I usually write. It's extremely dark. As for Annell (the OC.) well, she is…special. She is for lack of a better description, insanely fucked up. This will eventually be a Tig/OC story...but…again warning! Most aspects of this story is pretty dark, violent and gritty. So if you're looking for a love story, that is beautiful and sweet, with a happy ending where everything gets tied up in a nice neat little bow, I suggest you turn back now. This story deals with the Russian 'Mafia' which I've actually done quite a bit of research on while I was preparing to write this. This deals mostly with Vory V Zakone which is I guess you could call it a 'sect' of the Russian Mob. Which translates to 'Thieves in Law,'...which then really is said to kind go hand in hand with the term: 'Honor amongst thieves.' They a have a certain 'code' that they demand their members: 'Vory' adhere to, this will be explained more and more as the story goes on. 'Suki' will be thrown around a lot in this story, this is a term that Vory v Zakone seems to call any other Russian criminal organization that doesn't adhere to their code. It actually means: "Bitches." As for the Russian: There will be Russian spoken at times in this story. I've flip-flopped a lot on how to deal with this... Russian as I'm sure you know, is a Cyrillic Alphabet…. And as I wrote I found that it really didn't really flow nicely… seeing as how unless you know Russian, you would have no idea what it even sounded like when spoken. So the Russian is written phonetically. It just flowed nicer, and reads better. One more time: seeing as how this deals with crime a lot, and again I admit it is violent and grim. The OC herself, is dark, complex and at times ruthless. So if you're looking for a story with a kind, sweet OC, this is probably not for you. You have to understand she has grown up in this lifestyle, and is extremely, well, jaded shall we say. I make no bones about that she is a criminal, and she does bad things with little to no empathy. (Which on a personal note: has been really fun to write.) I'm not saying she doesn't have redeeming qualities, as she does, but she is not a nice, sweet caring individual. I'm not saying that there won't be sweet, or tender moments (it is a romance!) but for the most part, it's very, very dark. One more thing, and then I'll shut up! This is a very 'busy' story, meaning it has a main plot, but it also has a lot of sub-plots and other stories floating around, so again if you don't like that, don't say I didn't warn ya!

Prologue: Sins of the Father

It was a muggy morning in early May. As the sun crested over the horizon, the humidity already hung in the air. The bay area weather had never really been to her liking. She thought as the black Lincoln town car pulled up to the curb of an old Eastern Orthodox Church, with a bit of a jolt. The woman in the backseat, slid a pair of big black Gucci sunglasses over her cold blue eyes, and uncrossed her stocking clad legs. The sheer nude color silk added a bit of color to the pale alabaster of her skin but did little to hide the blue-black tattoos that littered her flesh, not that she wanted them covered. She'd earned them and the respect that came with them. Some were even a birthright. The long obviously dyed burgundy colored hair that topped her head was pulled back in an elegant French knot, and she tied a silk black scarf over her hair.

"I'll be out in fifteen…wait here." The voice that left the petite woman didn't match what you would expect. The small petite woman's voice was feminine yet deep with a husky tone.

"Da." The bald hulking figure in the driver's seat replied gruffly. Slamming the door behind her, she hooked a black expensive handbag over her elbow. The diminutive lady was nothing special, nothing would make you think twice, Appearing young, in her early to mid-twenties. Small in stature; and of some kind of eastern European descent. Which was normal for this particular neighborhood, the small cluster of blocks had a high Russian/Ukrainian/ Polish population. Tall high-heels clicked loudly against the poured concrete steps as she climbed, opening one half of the monstrous double doors, a small cross emblazoned on them.

For early morning the chapel was dark, lit only by scattered candles. As Eastern interpretations on saints store down from the high ceiling. The heavy scent of incense filled her nostrils, her heels clicking against the aged stone floor. Standing before the alter she made the sign of the cross over her body three times. Her pale thin fingers ordained with a single gold band on her middle finger but again a blue-black strange star seared in the flesh of her ring-finger.
The small woman slid into an aged deep colored pew, kneeling she folded her hands. Eyes sliding shut, the silence filled her ears. The occasional beep of a horn, or a car alarm breaking it up a bit. The sound of a door quietly clicking shut brought the young woman's attention over her shoulder. Taking an audibly deep breath, the young woman stood and slinked towards the back of the church, slipping inside the small room. She shut the door. Taking a prostrate pose on the kneeler; she clasped her hands tightly.

"Bless me father for I have sinned; my last confession was a month ago…"

"Go ahead child." The male voice said with a strong heavy Russian accent on the other side of the confessional.

"In that time I have….taken the Lord's name in vain, had impure thoughts, had relations with a man I am not married to, lied, stole and I have committed murder."

Annell Marlena Propkovic sat at her desk her small fingers messaging slow circles on her temples. The young woman's office was stylish and chic. With large glass paneled windows, and light hardwood floors. The black furniture stood out. Her desk however, was cluttered and messy. Annell sighed loudly; ripping her long hair from her bun, sending the burgundy mass tumbling down her back. Shrugging out of the tight, form-fitting blazer, she turned ever so slightly to hang it on the back of her chair, and kicked off her heels under the desk. The knock on the door caused her eyes to jerk up abruptly.

"Yes?" she called, as she bent down a bit to pull out the top right desk drawer, fishing through it. As the door opened slowly she looked up, her eyes landing on the same large, bald hulk of a man that had taken her to church.

"Sorry; Ivan has found Yuri…how should we handle him?" the thick accent coating his every word as he leaned against the doorframe. "He has stars..." This caused Annell's head to jerk up and stare blankly at the man before her.

"I didn't give him stars" She hissed. Grabbing hold of a thick pair of black framed glasses, square but stylishly so. She slid them over them over her cold hard gaze.

"Da, I know."

"Bring him in."

Annell had a cool façade that she wore well, and as they drug in the lanky young man who had his head down, not even fighting. She became the epitome of cool, hard indifference. Pushing her glasses down her nose enough to gaze over them at the young man. As he was shoved into a chair in front of her by Ivan and Simon. Two large men dressed in nice suits, both sets of hands covered in the same blue- black ink that covered many parts of her body. Yuri had his head hung low, his wet mousey brown hair clung to his damp skin. He looked up through clouded brown eyes at that cold bitch that sat in front of him. She wasn't even human. Casually crossing her legs, she had rid herself of her stockings, she showed off two large stars on her knee caps. The dark colored ink clashing with the pale alabaster flesh. The crisp white linen shirt pulled tautly over her small chest, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows showed off an intricate design of the Virgin Mary clutching the infant Jesus tattooed on her forearm.

"When did you get stars?" Annell asked evenly, her gaze fixed on her desk. Yuri brought his heavy lidded eyes up to meet the cold narrowed gaze. Defiantly, he lifted his chin at the young woman. Fuck her. She was nothing more than a bitch with a pedigree. She had never earned her stars, and she had the balls to get on his ass.

"You know the Code, wearing ink that you haven't earned is punishable by death." She supplied, quirking a dark eyebrow. Yuri matched her look with one of his own, as he spat on the clean hardwood. He was met by a hard slam against the back of his skull as Ivan spat: "Show some respect." In the native tongue.

"Right." Annell chuckled. Sliding open the top right drawer, her hand closed around the matte finished black .45. Sliding in the magazine with a click; she narrowed her eyes at Yuri. "I hear you've been taking liberties with the girls..." Again, she was met with silence and a defiant look. "They work to pay off a debt to me, not you. You get no privileges with them, and if I ever hear you have forced anything on them again I will blow your fucking balls off." She hissed, pulling back the slide, a round clicked into the chamber. If Yuri was frightened by the strange woman he didn't show it. His face a mask of cool even indifference, a small trickle of blood slipped down from the bottom of his hairline down his neck, from where Ivan had struck him. "I wonder…" Annell clicked her tongue in thought, her index finger tapping against her bottom lip. A well-kept french manicured fingernail lightly scrapped at the full pink flesh, pushing off her desk. She stood gracefully, uncrossing her legs she circled his chair. The two large men stepping back, giving her room to work. Gun clasped tightly in one hand; her dark reddish hair hung down like a long thick curtain around her oval face. Slipping her glasses up her nose with her middle finger, she looked down at the man before her, a look of disgust etched in her features. She circled Yuri one final time, a long squared fingernail dragging across his shoulders, and neck. Stopping in front of him, her fingers wrapped around denim clad knees, surprisingly strong for a woman of such small stature, she forced his legs apart. Squatting down on the balls of her bare feet, she allowed her elbows to rest on her knees, the gun dangling between her knees.

"Does your wife know your stars are a fraud? She must." Annell laid the gun on the hardwood next to her feet. Her fingers clasping the linen of his black button down, tearing the buttons. Ripping apart; they popped in every direction, clattering to the floor. Trailing a perfectly manicured nail down his chest, it rested on his belt buckle, she tapped against the metal. "I have never suffered fools. Perhaps, I should send Nikolai to take care of her. You know he would love that, she always was a foul-mouthed whore who never knew her place." Venom dripped from her pretty mouth, as Yuri struggled against the two men holding him in his chair.

"Suka!" he yowled. "You are not Vory! You are stupid cunt, without Daddy you are nothing!" Saliva flew from his lips as he fought and screamed. Annell's face never wavered; her mask of cool indifference held firmly, as a small hand flew, with a crack, she back handed the man.

"Shut up." She hissed, standing, her small hands straightening her pencil skirt. Gripping the collar of her own shirt, she undid two buttons, sliding the material aside, to reveal at black and red star tattooed on the slightly hollowed area between her shoulder and collarbone. "I was born with this…This is my fucking birthright! Who are you?" she spat venomously. "Nothing more than a drunk born to whore in the streets of Kiev. You were born no one and that's how you will die." Walking causally back to her desk, she calmly took her seat. Clasping her hands together, she rested her chin against her fists. "Get those stars off him." Ivan and Simon nodded wordlessly, hauling the broken angry man up by his armpits.

Annell sat back on a plush soft black sofa, a high-ball glass of scotch held in her hand. George 'The Czech' sat across from her, sipping his own scotch as a young blonde beauty grinded herself against his lap. Clad only in lacy bra and panties, her blue eyes were half-lidded and dazed. George fingered a black lacy strap on the girl's shoulder, before taking another sip. His graying hair slicked back, with an almost greasy look to it, and the suit jacket he wore a size too small, showing off a large gut.
"I see business has been good." He gestured flippantly, as the girl climbed into his lap, straddling him. Annell smirked behind the rim of her glass.

"You could say that." She hummed.

"How are the men adjusting, any problems?" His grey eyes store down at the young woman on his laps cleavage.

"Oh you know," Annell leaned back, her hand waving flippantly. "Here and there, nothing that I can't handle." Her cold eyes didn't betray anything. Nothing at all. Annell Propkovic was nothing if not an enigma, and enigma wrapped in a cold, hard emotionless flesh. George had known the young girl since she was in pig-tails and diapers. Vladimir, Annell's father was a boss and a very respected Vory v Zakone. They had met in prison in Siberia in the early sixties. Yuri had already been in and out of prisons most of his life. He was a hard-ass, much like his daughter. Annell, or Nellie as only those very close to the young woman had taken to calling her, was not the first woman to reach such high standing in the Organization, but she was among few. But she was Vladimir's only child and any doubt any one had possessed about her succeeding her father had proved nil very quickly.
She was hard, frightening at times. In the first few months of her reign he'd seen the young woman do things….do things that would give even the hardest of men nightmares. As her Godfather, he wondered at times if she was healthy…mentally, or perhaps it was an act. An act designed to earn respect, to prove she was her father's daughter and would never be afraid to get her hands dirty. It was tradition that as an only child, she would take her father's place, but she did have marks against her that made even the older, wiser Vory nervous. She unlike most involved in the lifestyle had been born in America had rarely left the country, always sending others to do her bidding abroad, and there was always her lack of male anatomy. Just because there were a few other females it did not lessen the skepticism. Skepticism that still followed Annell when it came to dealing with other circles. Her strength of stomach had come under fire, her ability to make the tough calls, ones that affected the Family. She had taken most in stride proving she was tough, more than tough at times - scary.

"The legit businesses are thriving, the girls pull in their fair share as well. I'm sure you know that the Suki's have been sniffing around." Annell muttered crossly, taking a hard pull off her drink. The Russians were a difficult family to get involved with. So many fractions, so much squabbling, there were Vory's, whom George personally preferred to keep his business dealing with. They were Vory v Zakone, they had a strict code, with even stricter punishments. One of which was to never rat. On anyone…Friend or foe; there was no such thing as a snitch..and if there was, they were dealt with in ways he didn't even like to think about. "I heard Putlova is dead." She added, taking a rolled cigarette from the crystal dish on the end-table.

"I hear his gulag is in chaos…" George supplied, his hand swatting the gyrating females bottom. "Leave me."

" They are. Bunch of bottom-feeders, I swear. They've come sniffing around here, but my men are stretched so thin with the ATF sniffing around, I've got a shipment of weapons coming in next week that I'm sweating out. Yuri is out." George's eyebrow shot skyward. "He'll be in the hospital for a least a week and then I'm sending him back to Kiev."

"Yuri? Wha- what did he-"

"Went to a tattoo shop downtown and got himself some stars. He didn't think I'd find out." George snorted. Ah, The Vory v Zakone was so strange about their tattoos, and 'earning' them. Especially 'stars', wearing false stars could get a man killed. What had Yuri been thinking? Yuri was a good kid, never questioned authority, always did as he was told, why act up now? "This isn't the first problem I've had with him lately. He's been pushing up on the girls, which is fine on his own time, but a few girls said he refuses to pay them when it's over. I just got Katerina from the hospital last week, when I asked what happened she said that Yuri wouldn't pay her, and when she threatened to bring it to me he beat the shit outta her."

"Mother of Christ." George sighed, shaking his head.

"I hear from Ivan, Simon and even Nikolai: they think he's doing coke again." Annell's eyes darkened, finishing her scotch she set it on the dark wood end table. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette she contained." Of course, they didn't say that..."

"Now, of course not..." Vory would never run to their leader and rat out another. But loyalty to the family came before loyalty to each other. "How did they bring it to you?"

"Nikolai came to me alone…but said that he, Ivan and Simon had concerns. When I asked what they were, he said that they believed 'Yuri was poisoning his own mind.' Note the wording." She chuckled, exhaling a cloud of bluish gray smoke. George also chuckled.

"I do notice, very careful indeed. I do give Nikolai credit, very smart to word it that way considering the code."

"That's what I thought." Annell placed the cigarette between her full pink lips. "Nikolai is one of my best men; If he says Yuri is in that shit.I believe him." The confidence rolled off the young woman in waves.

"You should know better than anyone –"

"I know that really I can only trust myself, but I would say I trust him as much as I am capable of trusting anyone.." She sighed, messaging her fingers over tired eyes. In the dark low lit room, she rose her hand, snapping her fingers at a scantily clad young woman, who couldn't be a day over eighteen. A thin manicured finger pointed wordlessly to her empty scotch.

"Be careful." George muttered darkly, his grey eyes landing on the tall, brutish man that stood about twenty feet behind Nellie, leaning casually against the bar. At least six feet tall, with his brownish salt and peppering hair slicked back, his angular face covered by sunglasses that George had never seen the man without. Nikolai clad in an expensive suit, clasped his hands in front of him. His tattoos crept out of the collar of his suit, crawling up his neck, and out of the sleeves. George did not like Nikolai, he never had. Nikolai worked for Vladimir, before he past. But had been cozying up to Annell for years, even before Vlad past. More than twenty years her senior, George had worried about his Goddaughter and the strange Ukrainian when she was only sixteen. God only knew why Vlad had not put a stop to it, he had threatened men for a lot less when it came to his daughter. His princess.

"Stop giving him the evil eye." Annell chuckled, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the young blonde she had snapped at returned with a fresh drink, and a crystal ashtray that Annell hadn't asked for.

" Thank you." Annell smiled, taking the items from the girl. Settling back in her seat, she sipped her scotch before sitting it on the table, and laying the ashtray precariously on her knee. "See, now that is potential." Annell pointed her index finger at the girl. "I didn't even ask for the ashtray, that's called being observant." Annell flicked the gray soot that had collected on the business end of her cigarette in the tray, her eyes still studying the blonde.
"I've never seen her. Is she new?" George leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he gestured to the crystal dish. Annell smiled brightly, showing a set of brilliantly white, straight teeth before leaning over the arm of the sofa getting a single cigarette and handing it to the aging man.

"You've been in the State Pen for the last five years, of course you've never seen her, but yes she is new." Annell took a drag off her cigarette. "She is from…..Moscow, I believe- I could be wrong. They all kind of blend together after a while." She twirled her hand, eyes fixed on it...

"Ahhh, true, true." George chuckled, taking the first drag off his freshly lit cigarette. "Back to business, my dear. It's in my best interest as well as yours that you do well, and with the Putlova's men sniffing around I don't see that happening."

"They won't be a problem. I can handle them." Annell's eyes darkened, and her expression changed to one of challenge.

"Oh I have no doubt, my faith in you is….endearing. But still, with the ATF and Putlova's men; things have become more...challenging, no?" George exhaled, eyeing his goddaughter carefully. He was toeing a thin line and he knew it. She laid the ashtray on the dark coffee table between them, leaning back she crossed her legs. Her elbow propping up on the arm of the sofa, cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"I'm listening." Her expression unreadable.

"Have you ever considered going….outside the family?'

"No." she said decidedly. "Daddy would never…he would roll over in his grave. No, we keep our problems in the family. I don't need any help."

"But it would make things much easier, would it not? Think about it, someone trustworthy that you didn't have to lord over, not worry about the code or making them adhere to it… It would open all new doors."

"Easier is not always better." The young woman said sagely, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "Besides, why would anyone want to help me outside of the family, what's in for them?"

"Business-"

"If you're talking about the Italians, or the Nazi's I'm not interested…." She interrupted.

"I'm not. If you would let me finish, my dear." Annell relaxed, leaning back again. She twirled her hand at the wrist, signaling him to continue.

"Good business is hard to come by these days, I know a few…groups, who would be more than willing to, ah….help out."

"In exchange for what?" she asked vehemently. "No one does something for nothing."

"Oh I don't know. A cut of the profits, a certain alliance should they need your help, or muscle."

"Money," she laughed bitterly, smoke escaping from between her full pink lips in tufts. "Why does it always boil down to money?"

"Money makes the world go 'round baby. I have a few friends I could help you out, make some phone calls and see if anyone'd be interested…"

"And what makes you think anyone would be?" she rose a dark eyebrow skeptically.

"Darling, everyone is interested in making money….I'll make the phone calls, you just think about it. You aren't tied to anything, you just think, and if you still say no baby, well, you're the boss."

"The boys won't like it…" He watched in disgust as her gaze shifted to the lilthe he man leaning against the bar.

"Did you give him stars?" George whispered incredulously, smoke pouring from his thin lips as he grimaced.

"No!" she shook her head, her dark hair shaking around her pretty oval face. "Politically speaking, I have others with more seniority..."

"It would be political suicide."

"Exactly."

"So why do you care? If the boys have a problem they wouldn't dare act up…would they?" George spoke softly, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed his cigarette.

"I honestly am not sure; I don't need a mutiny on my hands right now."

"Please, just think about it. It could be good all-around for everyone."

George 'The Czech' Kowalchek sat in his small dingy flat, he rented above one of the many businesses that Annell, and by extension the Vory v Zakone owned. This in particular one, a laundry-mat. He felt a little guilty, not a normal emotion for him. Annell was in over her head, whether she knew it or not. He thought she might, but she - the stubborn mule she was, would never admit it. She had been groomed most of her life to succeed Vladimir, but not this soon. At twenty-four she, they, never thought that Vladimir would be gone, he hadn't been there for his Goddaughter. To help her, or guide her. He'd been serving his a five year sentence in the State Prison; racketeering, conspiracy, and possession of illegal firearms.
Vladimir had been fine. His understanding was he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and six months later…dead. He hadn't been there; not for his 'brother' or his Goddaughter, not only on an emotional level to guide her through the loss of her father. Nor with dealing with her accession to power, politically he heard through the grapevine; that it had been a very volatile time for both Annell and the family. Her rise would either tear the organization apart at the seams, or make them even stronger. So far, it seemed to be the latter.
Except for Nikolai, George did not like nor did he trust the dark haired Ukrainian. It wasn't normal for the man in his late thirties to be cozying up to a girl of sixteen. No good could come such a fascination of a grown man and a teenaged girl and now eight years later, he had himself in a very comfortable position. Being a right-hand, no matter if it was unofficial had its' perks. This had always been George's fear; no matter how good a leader she was proving to be. No matter how calculated she was, Nikolai had wormed his way in at a young impressionable age, and she trusted him. Trusted him implicitly it seemed, and now there was no breaking it up. He could call the shots, by simply whispering in her ear, and that was a bad thing.

George settled himself on the couch, a TV tray in front of him. He laid his microwavable meal down next to an open half-drank can of Budweiser. This needed to work out, Annell needed to make him money and fast. At sixty-two years old he was done, and tired of the game. Of this life. He had always planned to take his money, move to some quiet little island, somewhere warm and beautiful and be done with them. All of them, no more cops, no more crime, no more bullshit. Unfortunately, when he was arrested he'd lost everything….every goddamn penny. He didn't think she'd need help, but the death of Putlova was throwing a monkey wrench into his plans. His men squabbling, trying to prove they all had the biggest dick, so to speak, could be bad….Very bad. Annell had already had a target on her back by being Vlad's kid. Now, a boss and considered to be the biggest bitch around….she'd only made her target bigger. Then there was, Nikolai…whispering in her little ear, 'helping' her make all the big decisions...No, no, this had to stop and now. He needed a neutral third party, he needed her to take the help, broaden her horizons…He needed to call Clay. He also needed her to trust Clay and the Sons, and how he was going to do that? Well, he had no fucking idea.