My hand goes to my stomach, protective and instinctive. Whatever's happening downstairs, whatever crisis has erupted in the middle of the night, I know with cold certainty that our brief moment of peace is over.
46
DIMITRI
The grandfather clock in my study strikes three in the morning, its chime echoing through the tension-thick air. I stand at the window overlooking the estate grounds, my reflection ghosting in the glass alongside the security lights dotting the perimeter. Behind me, Alexei paces like a caged wolf, his boots wearing a path in the Persian rug.
"We need to hit them now," he says for the third time, his voice tight with frustration. "Before they take any more territory."
I don't turn around. My eyes track the movement of guards patrolling below, their weapons visible even from this distance. "And start a war that will consume half the city?"
"They've already started the war." Borge's deep voice rumbles from where he sits in the leather chair, his massive frame making the furniture look like it belongs in a dollhouse. "Ivan Volkov took over the docks last night. That's Morozov territory. Our territory."
My jaw clenches. The docks represent millions in revenue, not to mention the strategic importance of controlling shipping routes.Ivan knows exactly what he's doing. He's testing me, pushing to see how far he can go before I push back.
"He's also been visiting our protected businesses," Borge adds, pulling up something on his tablet. "Three restaurants, two construction companies, and a shipping firm. All in the last forty-eight hours. He's not asking for protection money. He's telling them they work for him now."
I finally turn from the window, moving to my desk. "How many have switched allegiance?"
"None yet," Alexei says. "But they're scared. Ivan's making it clear that anyone who stays loyal to you will face consequences."
I pour vodka into a crystal tumbler. It doesn't help. Nothing helps when I'm watching everything I've worked for being dismantled piece by piece.
"The rumors are worse," Borge continues. "Ivan's spreading stories that you've gone soft. That your wife has corrupted you, made you weak. That the old ways are dying because you're too busy playing house to lead properly."
My hand tightens on the glass until I hear it crack. Alina. Of course they're targeting her. She's the visible symbol of everything that's changed, everything that threatens their traditional power structure.
"Some of the neutral families are starting to listen," Borge says quietly. "They're wondering if maybe Ivan has a point. If maybe the reforms you proposed are making us vulnerable."
I set down the glass before I shatter it completely. "What do you recommend?"
Alexei stops pacing and faces me directly. "We hit Ivan's operations. Hard and fast. Take out his lieutenants, burn his businesses, show everyone that you're still the Pakhan they should fear. Remind them what happens when someone challenges the Morozov family."
It's exactly what the old Dimitri would have done. The man I was before Alina, before I started questioning whether violence was always the answer. That Dimitri would have already mobilized his soldiers, would have painted the streets red with Ivan's blood.
But I'm trying to build something different. Something better.
"If we respond with violence, we prove Ivan's point," I say, my voice controlled despite the rage burning in my chest. "We show the neutral families that nothing has changed, that we're still just thugs killing each other over territory."
"And if we don't respond, we look weak," Alexei counters.
He's right. I know he's right. But I also know that starting another war will destroy everything Alina and I have been working toward.
I'm about to respond when I hear soft footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, Alina appears in the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe, her red hair loose around her shoulders. Her green eyes are alert despite the late hour, and I see the concern written across her face.
"Go back to bed," I tell her, my tone sharper than I intend.
Her eyes flash with anger, and I realize my mistake immediately. Alexei and the others shift uncomfortably. They're still getting used to the idea of a woman being present during strategysessions, still adjusting to the reality that Alina is more than just my wife.
"Alina, it's three in the morning. You need rest. The baby needs rest."
She moves into the room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "The baby is fine. And I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."
I see Alexei open his mouth to protest, but I raise a hand to stop him. There's no point in arguing with her. When Alina makes up her mind about something, she's as immovable as stone.
"Ivan Volkov is making moves against us," I explain, gesturing to the maps and reports spread across my desk. "Taking territory, intimidating our businesses, spreading rumors. Alexei wants to respond with force."
Alina moves to the desk, studying the documents with the same sharp intelligence that first surprised me. She's learned to read the tactical layouts, to understand the power dynamics at play. "And you don't want to?"
