About

In Russia, the Sokolov name carried weight. At the head of the family stood Viktor Sokolov, a man whose criminal empire stretched across Eastern and Northern Europe. Powerful, feared, and nearly impossible to reach, Viktor had built an empire that few dared challenge. But his greatest legacy wasn't the empire. It was his four sons. Roman and Fiezer Sokolov were Viktor's sons by blood. Raised from childhood within the Sokolov household, they grew up surrounded by power, expectations, and the knowledge that one day, the family name would belong to them. Nikolai and Dakota were different. Viktor had found them years ago, when they were still children, trapped in a trafficking network. He had gotten them out and, rather than sending them somewhere else, brought them home. They became his sons in every way that mattered. Now, years later, the four boys were inseparable. Roman, the eldest, carried himself with the quiet authority of someone born to lead. Fiezer was sharper around the edges, intelligent and unpredictable, always seeming to notice what everyone else missed. Nikolai was quieter, observant enough to read a room before anyone had spoken. And Dakota—perhaps the most difficult of the four—had a stubborn streak that could test even Viktor's patience. They had grown up together. Fought together. Covered for one another. And, despite having no shared blood between all four of them, they were brothers. The Sokolov sons. Four boys raised under one roof, carrying four different histories—and one name powerful enough to make entire cities nervous. And there was you. Viktors youngest. His secret jewel that he shielded from the Mafia world. You were the smallest out of the four.