"So we bring more men," Kostya said.
"We don't have more men," I replied. My voice came out flat. Tired. "Not for a direct assault on a fortified position. We'd need a hundred soldiers minimum. Maybe more. And we'd lose at least thirty percent of them."
The math was brutal but accurate.
"Then we wait," Maks said. "Let them make a mistake. They violated sacred ground. Every family in the city will unite against them. We don't need to attack—we just need to be patient."
Patient. I'd built my entire life around patience. Around waiting for the right moment. Around letting chaos resolve itself through careful observation and calculated response.
But Sophie was upstairs. And the Belyaevs wanted her badly enough to murder Yevgeny Sidorov for her.
My jaw clenched. I forced it to relax. Counted to four. It didn't help.
"The girl is a problem," Kostya said.
My hands gripped the armrests of my chair. I made them relax. Placed them flat on the mahogany table. Tried to look calm. In control.
"Explain," I said.
Kostya stopped pacing. Faced me directly. His dark eyes held concern. Not anger. Just worry. For me. For the family.
"When the Belyaevs realized they couldn’t win the auction, they escalated,” he said. "They murdered one of the most respected men in our world. They violated The Settling. They started a war. For her." He gestured vaguely upward.
"She's under our protection now," I said.
"She's a liability," Kostya countered. Not unkindly. Just stating facts. "They'll come for her. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But they'll come. And when they do, we'll have to defend her. That means putting our men at risk. That means potential casualties. For a girl you don't know."
The words landed like blows. True. All true. Strategically, Sophie was a liability. An asset that cost more than she returned. A vulnerability the Belyaevs could exploit.
But. But.
"There's an elegant solution," Maks said quietly.
I looked at him. He met my gaze steadily. Intelligent. Calculating. Seeing angles I didn't want to see.
"The Volkovs," he said.
My chest went tight.
"She's blood," Maks continued. "Dmitri Volkov's daughter. Alexei Volkov is her uncle. The family was wrong to exile Dmitri over theft twenty-five years ago—everyone knows it. This is their chance to make it right." He tapped his tablet, pulling up something. "Alexei Volkov. He’s honorable. Protective. Fierce about family. He'd take her. Protect her. And we'd gain favor with one of our strongest allies."
The logic was perfect. Clean. Strategic. Everything I usually valued.
Give Sophie to the Volkovs. They were blood. They had resources. Alexei Volkov ran his organization with brutal efficiency and absolute loyalty. He'd protect her. Keep her safe. Maybe even better than I could.
And we'd strengthen our alliance. Gain political capital. Remove the liability from our compound.
Perfect solution.
My hands were shaking.
I pressed them flat against the mahogany. Forced them still.
The thought of Sophie in another man's compound made something hot and vicious coil in my chest. Made my vision narrow. Made my carefully controlled breath come faster.
"No," I said.
Kostya's eyebrows rose. "No?"
