We spend the next hour planning, coordinating, assigning tasks. It's a gamble. A huge gamble. But it's better than the alternative.
I'm pouring another round of vodka when the study door bursts open. One of the perimeter guards, his face flushed, his eyes wide, practically skids inside. He's young, maybe twenty-five, and I can see the panic barely contained beneath his professional exterior.
"Pakhan." He's breathing hard, like he ran here. "We just got word. The Kozlov family's remaining leadership has been found dead. All of them. Executed in their homes within the last few hours."
The room goes silent. I feel every eye turn to me, waiting for my reaction.
"How?" My voice is steady, controlled, even though my mind is already racing ahead to the implications.
"Professional hits. Clean. Efficient." The guard swallows hard. "But that's not the worst part. There's evidence. Witnesses who claim to have seen Morozov soldiers in the area. Shell casings that match weapons from our armory. A paper trail linking the hits back to you."
The vodka glass shatters in my hand.
33
ALINA
Pale morning light brightens as minutes become hours, and still nothing from Dimitri. I can hear muted voices from somewhere downstairs. The low rumble of male conversation, urgent and tense.
Something's wrong.
I can’t wait in this bedroom any longer. I need to find Dimitri and find out what’s going on.
I throw back the covers and reach for the silk robe draped over the chair, then go to the bathroom and take a quick shower and dress for the day.
The hallway is quiet as I make my way downstairs, my flat boots almost silent on the marble floors. The voices grow louder as I approach the study, and I recognize Alexei's voice, sharp with frustration. Then Borge's deeper rumble. And Dimitri, his tone controlled but with an edge that makes my stomach clench.
I pause outside the door, my hand on the handle. Part of me wants to respect their privacy, to let Dimitri handle whatevercrisis has erupted. But I'm his wife now. Hispartner, as he told my mother last night. I have a right to know what's threatening our family.
I push open the door.
Six pairs of eyes turn toward me. Dimitri stands behind his desk, his hands braced on the polished wood surface. His dark hair is disheveled, and exhaustion lines his face. Alexei sits in the leather chair closest to the desk, his shoulder still bandaged. Borge looms by the window, his massive frame blocking out the early morning sun. Three other men I recognize from Dimitri's inner circle are scattered around the room.
They all look grim.
"Alina." Dimitri's voice is carefully neutral. "You should be resting."
I close the door behind me and move into the room. "What's going on?"
He exchanges a glance with Alexei, some silent communication passing between them. Then he sighs and gestures to the chair beside his desk. "Sit down."
The words send ice through my veins, but I do as he asks. My hands twist together in my lap as I wait for him to speak.
"The Kozlov family's remaining leadership was found dead last night," Dimitri says, his green eyes fixed on mine. "All of them. Executed in their homes within hours of each other."
I process this information slowly. The Kozlovs, the family that orchestrated the church attack with my father. The ones who kidnapped Katya. "That's… good, isn't it?"
"It would be," Alexei says, his voice tight, "if we'd done it."
Understanding dawns, cold and terrible. "But you didn't."
"No." Dimitri moves around the desk to stand beside me, his hand finding my shoulder. The warmth of his touch grounds me. "But someone wants it to look like we did. There's evidence. Witnesses who claim they saw Morozov soldiers in the area. Shell casings that match weapons from our armory. A paper trail linking the hits back to me."
My mind races, trying to make sense of this. "Someone's framing you."
"Yes." He squeezes my shoulder gently. "And doing a damn good job of it. The other families are already calling for my head. They're saying I'm eliminating all opposition, consolidating power through murder."
I look up at him, seeing the tension in his jaw, the way his free hand has curled into a fist at his side. The dragon tattoo on the left side of his neck seems to pulse with each heartbeat. "What happens if they believe it?"
