"He has brought chaos and death," Ivan continues. "Viktor Popov, a respected member of our community, was murdered. Mikhail Volkov, my cousin, was killed. Under Dimitri's leadership, we have seen more bloodshed than in the previous ten years combined."
I want to scream that Viktor was a traitor who tried to have his own daughters killed, that Mikhail orchestrated a massacre at my wedding. But this isn't my moment to speak.
"Dimitri Morozov has grown weak," Ivan says, his voice dropping to something almost sympathetic. "He has allowed his feelings for his wife to cloud his judgment. He is no longer fit to lead."
When Ivan finishes, there's murmuring throughout the warehouse. Some families nod in agreement. Others look skeptical.
Then it's Dimitri's turn.
He doesn't pace or perform. He simply stands in the center of the space, his presence commanding attention without effort. When he speaks, his voice is calm and measured.
"Ivan Volkov speaks of tradition, but he conveniently forgets which traditions have nearly destroyed us," Dimitri begins. "Mikhail Volkov manipulated us all, turned families against each other, orchestrated murders to serve his own agenda. I ended that threat. Viktor Popov betrayed his own family, sold his daughter to our enemies, and conspired in the church massacrethat killed my nephew and fifteen others. I ended that threat too."
He pauses, letting his words sink in.
"Ivan speaks of chaos, but what he calls chaos, I call housecleaning. The Bratva was rotting from within, and I cut out the infection before it could spread further."
Dimitri's eyes sweep across the assembled families. "I have proposed reforms that benefit everyone. More autonomy for each family. A council system for major decisions. An end to practices that make us vulnerable to law enforcement and public scrutiny. These changes don't weaken us. They make us stronger, smarter, more sustainable."
He gestures toward me, and I feel my cheeks flush. "My wife has proven herself in ways that many men in this room have not. She survived an assassination attempt at her own wedding. She uncovered her father's betrayal. She stood beside me when Mikhail Volkov tried to destroy everything we've built. To dismiss her because of her gender is to dismiss strength, intelligence, and loyalty. That is true weakness."
The murmuring grows louder. I can see some of the older bosses shaking their heads, but several of the younger generation are nodding.
The arbiter calls for the vote. Each family head stands and declares their position. My heart pounds as I count. It's close. Too close.
When the final vote is tallied, Dimitri wins by a margin of three families.
Ivan's face goes purple with rage. For a moment, I think he might attack Dimitri right here, tribunal rules be damned. But he's smarter than that. He spins on his heel and storms toward the exit, his remaining allies scrambling to follow.
"This isn't over, Morozov," he snarls over his shoulder.
Dimitri doesn't respond. He simply takes my hand and leads me toward the door.
We're almost to our car when a man in a dark jacket approaches. I recognize him as one of Ivan's lieutenants. Dimitri tenses, his hand moving toward the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket.
The man holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I have information," he says quietly, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else is listening. "About Ivan's next move." He pauses. "For a price."
52
DIMITRI
The informant's words echo in my mind as I pace my study.Forty-eight hours. Outside contractor. No Bratva ties.
Ivan Volkov has made his final play, and it's aimed directly at the woman I love.
I don't waste time on anger. Anger is a luxury I can't afford when Alina's life hangs in the balance. Instead, I move with the cold precision that's kept me alive for twenty years in this business.
"Alexei," I bark into my phone. "Get the compound ready. Full security detail. I want Alina and Katya there within the hour."
"Already on it," he responds. "The place is a fortress."
I find Alina in our bedroom, reading a book about pregnancy and early motherhood. She looks up when I enter, and her green eyes immediately narrow. She knows me too well now.
"What's wrong?"
I sit beside her on the bed and take her hand. Her skin is warm, her pulse steady beneath my fingers. "Ivan hired a contractor. Someone from outside our world. The hit is scheduled for the next two days."
Her face pales, but she doesn't fall apart. My wife is stronger than steel wrapped in silk, and she was expecting something. The informant didn’t want to talk out in the open so we came back here, but Alina wasn’t present for the meeting. "What do we do?"
