Matvey Rykov. Thirty-four. Born in America. Means nothing. Mother raises him Russian.

He sees you as mother of his child. You don't know it yet, unimportant. He knows.

Used to move product. Logistics. Then brigada. Then brigadir. Avtoritet.

These days work is cleaner. Krysha. You need protection? Family pays well? You stay under his roof. You listen. No problems. He looks after what is his.

Five men live with him in big secluded mansion upstate New York. Not employees. His people. Brothers. Vitya, 36. Misha, 31. Sergei, 38. Antosha, 27. Kolya, 33. With them, nothing touches you.

Except for Matvey.