"So you sabotaged my wedding dress." The words come out flat, stating fact rather than asking.
"That was just the beginning." Irina's smile widens. "I needed to destabilize Roman, to make him look weak in front of theMoscow delegates. A Pakhan who can't even protect his bride at his own wedding? That's not a man fit to lead."
My hands clench behind my back, the zip ties cutting deeper into my wrists. "But it didn't work. The delegates still supported him."
"No, it didn't work." Frustration bleeds through Irina's controlled exterior. "Roman handled it too well. Turned potential humiliation into a display of protective strength. That's when I knew it was time for my backup plan."
She settles back onto the crate, and her expression shifts into something darker, more calculating. "That's why I started seeing Abram Yakovlev."
The name makes my blood run cold. Roman's enemy. The man who's been systematically destroying his empire, who sent gifts to Katya to prove he could reach her, who's been circling like a shark waiting for weakness.
"I needed to make sure I'd be in a position of power no matter what happened," Irina continues, her voice matter-of-fact, like she's discussing a business strategy rather than betrayal. "If Lev became Pakhan, perfect. I'd be set for life. But if Abram succeeded in taking Roman down, I needed to be on his good side too."
My throat tightens with disgust. "So you seduced him."
"It was surprisingly easy." Irina examines her manicured nails with casual indifference. "Abram is old-school Bratva. He appreciates a woman who knows how to play the game, who understands that loyalty is just another commodity to be traded. I gave him information about Roman's operations, about his security protocols and about his weaknesses."
"You're the mole." The realization crashes over me with sickening clarity. "You're the one feeding information to Abram, helping him destroy Roman from the inside."
"Guilty." Irina's smile is sharp, proud even. "I've been playing both sides for months. Sleeping with Lev while fucking Abram. Pretending to support Roman while undermining him at every turn. It's been exhausting, honestly, but necessary."
She stands and moves closer, and I see something shift in her expression. Something that looks almost like pity. "I actually didn't hate you at first, Eva. You were just a complication, an obstacle to remove. We had plans to keep you alive, to use you as leverage against Roman after we stripped him of his position."
My heart pounds against my ribs. "Hadplans?"
"Until we found out you're pregnant." Irina's voice drops lower, becomes almost regretful. "That changed everything. An heir complicates succession. Even if we remove Roman, his child would have a claim to his territory, his power. The other families would support the heir over a challenger like Abram."
Terror floods my system, cold and absolute. My hand tries again to move to my stomach, to protect the life growing there, but the restraints hold firm. "No. Please."
"I'm sorry, Eva. I really am." Irina reaches into her designer purse, and when her hand emerges, she's holding a knife. The blade catches the dim light filtering through the warehouse windows, and I see my death reflected in the steel. "But we can't have Roman's heir interrupting our plans. You understand, don't you?"
She takes a step toward me, then another, the knife held with the confidence of someone who knows how to use it. My mindraces through options, through possibilities, but I'm bound and helpless, and there's nowhere to run.
"Roman will kill you for this," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "He'll tear this city apart. He'll destroy everyone involved."
"Maybe." Irina's smile doesn't waver. "But by then, it will be too late. You'll be gone. The baby will be gone. And Roman will be broken, which is exactly what we need."
She's close enough now that I can smell her expensive perfume, can see the cold calculation in her green eyes. The knife rises, and I think about Roman and the child we'll never get to raise together.
I think about how much I love him, and how I'll never get to tell him again.
The knife descends toward my stomach, and I close my eyes, bracing for the pain.
50
ROMAN
My hand shoots across the table before conscious thought catches up, fisting in Abram's expensive leather jacket. I yank him out of his chair with enough force that it crashes backward, the sound echoing through the conference room like a gunshot. His massive frame stumbles forward, and I drag him closer until we're nose to nose, until I can see the satisfaction gleaming in those pale gray eyes.
"What the fuck have you done with her?" The words come out low and dangerous, vibrating with barely controlled violence. My accent thickens with rage, making each syllable sharp as broken glass. "Where is Eva?"
Lev is on his feet instantly, his Glock drawn and trained on Abram's temple. The click of the safety disengaging is loud in the sudden silence, and I see his finger tighten on the trigger. Mysovietnik'sface is carved from stone, cold and professional, but I know him well enough to see the fury burning beneath the surface.
The Moscow delegates remain seated, their expressions hard with disapproval as they watch Abram. They're not intervening. Not stopping us. That tells me everything I need to know about how they view this situation.
Abram laughs. The sound is mechanical, almost robotic, like he's programmed to find this amusing rather than genuinely entertained. His breath reeks of vodka and something darker, more rotten.
"Oh, Roman." He grins, showing too many teeth. "You really should have seen this coming. A Pakhan who lets his dick do his thinking? That's not a man fit to lead."
