Zakhar eats methodically, the way he does everything. But there's a softness to his expression I rarely see. A contentment that makes him look younger. Less burdened.
This. This is what I wanted without knowing I wanted it.
This feeling of rightness. Of completeness. Of family
We're halfway through breakfast, talking about nothing important, when Maksim sets down his fork with the deliberate care that means he's about to shift the conversation to business.
I feel the atmosphere change immediately. From warm and comfortable to focused and tense.
"There are still things we need to discuss," he says, his voice taking on that particular tone he uses for strategy.
Victoria's hand pauses halfway to her mouth. Zakhar goes still. I set down my coffee cup and give Maksim my full attention.
"Your involvement with Eryan Nis operations," Maksim continues, looking directly at Victoria. "It's getting too dangerous for you to continue as you have been."
Victoria's fork clatters against her plate. Her spine goes rigid. The softness from moments ago vanishes.
"Excuse me?" Her voice is deceptively calm. But I can hear the steel underneath.
"You heard me." Maksim's voice stays even. Controlled. Which just makes it more dangerous. "Things need to change."
"You don't get to dictate how I run my organization."Victoria's eyes flash with defiance. Heat and challenge radiating from her in waves that make my body respond inappropriately for a breakfast conversation.
"I'm not dictating." Maksim leans forward slightly. "I'm stating facts. Someone is impersonating Eryan Nis. The situation is spiraling beyond your control."
They stare at each other across the table. The air between them charges with electricity. A battle of wills playing out in silence that's somehow louder than shouting.
I bite back a smile despite the seriousness of the topic. This is going to be interesting. Living with these two dominant personalities. Watching them butt heads while being unable to keep their hands off each other. The constant clash of Maksim's need for control and Victoria's refusal to be controlled.
It's going to be entertaining as hell.
Zakhar clears his throat, breaking the staring contest. "Victoria. Surely you agree that if someone is using your name to commit violence you never authorized, you've lost control of at least part of the situation."
The logic penetrates where Maksim's command couldn't. Victoria's expression shifts from pure defiance to troubled consideration.
"I'll handle it," she says, but she sounds less certain now. Less absolute.
"That's my point." Maksim's voice gentles fractionally. Not by much, but enough to notice. "You don't have to handle it alone anymore."
He looks at Zakhar and me. We both nod immediately. United front.
"You have the full force of the Severyn Bratva behind you now," Maksim continues, his gaze returning to Victoria. "We want to support what you're building. As long as you're not putting yourself in unnecessary danger."
Victoria's eyes go bright. Emotional in a way I rarely see from her. She blinks rapidly, clearly not expecting this offer.
"You'd do that?" Her voice is small. Uncertain. Vulnerable in a way that makes me want to gather her into my arms. "Even knowing what we do? How we operate?"
"We're criminals,kotyonok," I remind her gently, reaching over to cover her hand with mine. "We're not exactly in a position to judge. But what you do? Helping women escape abuse and trafficking? Giving them resources and training and purpose? That's worth protecting. Worth expanding."
"I'll coordinate with Jelena," Victoria says, and I can hear the gratitude threading through her words. Emotion making her voice thicker. "Figure out how to integrate your resources without compromising operational security. How to make this work without putting either organization at risk."
The tension breaks like a storm clearing. The warmth returns, flooding back into the kitchen. We're settling back into the comfortable rhythm of breakfast when Maksim's phone buzzes against the table.
He frowns at the screen. The expression that means incoming problem. Answers with clipped efficiency.
"Let him in."
Two words. Then he hangs up.
