The touch is light—barely a weight.
My whole body goes rigid.
It isn't the pressure; it's the contact. It's the fact that he can do it and that he chose to. The warmth of his hand sinks into my scalp, sending a shockwave down my spine that I hate because it feels good.
His thumb moves in a slow arc through my hair.
I stare at the wall, forcing my breathing to stay regulated: inhale, hold, exhale.
In the Kennel, touch meant correction. A hand on the neck meantsubmit. A fist to the ribs meantstand up.
I learned to take touch without flinching.
This isn't correction.
It makes my throat open up, my jaw unclamp, my chest loosen—a physical release of tension I didn't know I was carrying.
Ivan doesn't look down. He keeps reading, his hand resting on my head like I am an anchor point.
He turns another page.
"The logistics coordinator," he says quietly. "The one the feds took. He talked."
My mind snaps back to the job. "What did he give up?"
"He named more captains. Payments from the Italians."
More traitors. More men who smiled at Ivan while holding a knife behind their backs.
"Do you want me to contact Alexei?"
"Done," Ivan replies. His fingers tighten slightly in my hair—not painful, but possessive. "He's bringing them in tonight."
Ivan exhales—a sharp, frustrated sound.
"Boris is moving faster than I projected. He's trying to strip my support network before I can walk into Sergei's office and force a confrontation."
"You have evidence," I say.
"I have suspicion," Ivan corrects. "Sergei doesn't act on blood without certainty."
His thumb resumes its pattern, back and forth, making the room feel small—intimate.
I think of the Estate. The hallway. Boris sneeringdog. Ivan overriding him. Sergei watching it all unfold with that X-ray stare.
"Your father let me in," I say. "He didn't object when you told Boris no."
Ivan's hand stills.
Not pulling away—just pausing.
"What are you saying?"
"The Pakhan watches," I say carefully. "He waits."
I swallow. This is dangerous ground. "Maybe what you need isn't a file proving what Boris did. Maybe you need Boris to show his intent where your father can't ignore it."
Ivan doesn't answer. The silence stretches. I hear the faint hum of the hard drive on the desk.
