I didn't know it yet.
Didn't understand what my subconscious was already preparing for.
But I was memorizing goodbye.
Thewarroomhadnever felt smaller.
Three screens displayed my evidence—the fake website, the stolen photos, the email trace routing through Moscow. My brothers stood on either side of me, their attention fixed on the damning trail I'd uncovered. The compound's reinforced walls pressed in, thick with history and blood and the particular weight of decisions made in this exact room.
Nikolai's face had gone cold.
Not angry—never angry, not visibly. My oldest brother processed rage the way he processed everything else: with calculation, with strategy. His grey eyes tracked across the screens, absorbing every detail.
Beside him, Konstantin cracked his knuckles.
The sound was loud in the quiet room. Deliberate. The particular tell of a man itching for violence and being denied it—for now.
"Blyat," he growled. "Using her dreams against her. Even for Anton, that's low."
"It's smart," Nikolai said quietly. "Cruel, but smart. He knows we've got her protected. Can't get to her directly. So he targets the vulnerability we couldn't anticipate."
"He studied her." My voice came out harder than I intended. "Read her posts. Tracked her online presence. This wasn't opportunistic—it was surgical."
Nikolai nodded. His eyes never left the screens.
"What do you propose?"
I'd been thinking about this since I'd traced the email. Through holding Auralia while she cried. Through making love to her in the dim light of my bedroom. Through the long hours of night when I couldn't sleep and could only plan.
"We use it against them." I pulled up the original email on the center screen. "Respond as Auralia. Accept the meeting. Express enthusiasm, gratitude—whatever Elena would expect from someone who just got her dream handed to her."
Konstantin's grin was savage. "And when they come to grab her—"
"We grab them instead."
Silence. Nikolai's stillness had shifted—calculating now, running scenarios. I could almost see the tactical assessment happening behind those grey eyes.
"Location?" he asked.
"Elena suggested a gallery in SoHo. Already scouted." I pulled up the floor plans I'd acquired that morning. "Back entrance, minimal windows, three exit points we can control. Plenty of space for our people to position without being obvious."
"Timing?"
"Tomorrow evening. Seven o'clock. Gives us twenty-two hours to prepare."
"Personnel?"
"Konstantin's best men." I nodded to my brother. "Plus us. All three of us. If Anton's sending an extraction team, I want overwhelming force."
Konstantin's grin widened. The scars on his face pulled tight with the expression—testament to years of violence survived. "Finally. Something to hit."
"And the women?" Nikolai's voice was careful. The question he'd been waiting to ask.
"Here. At the compound." I switched to the security overview I'd prepared. "Three layers. Perimeter guards on rotating shifts. Internal security at all access points. Maya's medical training means she can handle emergencies. Sophie knows the protocols."
I turned to look at both of them directly.
"Auralia stays with them. Behind three layers of security, with two women who've survived worse than waiting."
