My stomach drops. The room tilts.
My mother.
Me.
“They know,” I breathe. “They know we’re onto them.”
Dimitri is already shaking his head, stepping in front of me like a shield. “No. This is a scare tactic.”
But I hear the slight tremor in his voice. He’s lying—to himself or to me, I’m not sure.
Sylvester clears his throat, eyes flicking toward me with something that looks painfully close to pity. “Your mother was at a clinic for a checkup. Someone pulled her out through a back-channel medical transfer under a false family authorization.”
I grip the edge of the desk to stay standing.
“My mother isn’t safe,” I whisper. “Dimitri…neither am I.”
His hand clamps over mine instantly, firm, steady, claiming.
“No,” he says, voice low and absolute, “you’re safe with me.”
The thunder outside cracks like the sky is splitting open—but it’s nothing compared to the sound of Dimitri’s fury beating in the silence that follows.
Chapter 23 – Dimitri
The meeting room feels like it’s burning.
Every one of my brothers is here—Roman at the head of the table, arms crossed; Lev pacing like a caged wolf; Adrian silent and calculating; Niko and Kaz watching me with worry they don’t bother to hide; Lukin leaning forward, eyes cold.
And all of them angry.
The projector hums softly as the encrypted message glows on the wall behind me:
The mother has been moved.
Next, the bride.
Maps, hacked surveillance clips, and encrypted call logs litter the table, a chaos of data and danger. Everyone is talking at once—strategies, theories, threats—but underneath it all, I feel the pulse of one thing:
Fear.
My fear.
For Vivian.
Lukin slams a folder down, voice clipped. “This message confirms Deveraux has her mother. He’s using her as leverage. He wants Vivian scared. He wants you unstable.”
My jaw flexes hard enough to crack. “He wants a war,” I say.
Roman nods, jaw tight. “He already started one.”
Lev swears under his breath, fingers dragging through his hair. “This isn’t just about the Rusnaks anymore. He’s pulling old families together—Kovals, Swiss syndicates, remnants of the London circle. He’s building something offshore. Something coordinated.”
Adrian finally speaks, voice smooth but edged with steel. “Zurich is the center. That’s where the accounts route, wherethe medical transfer was authorized, where his ghost companies originate. We cut him off there.”
Kaz leans back in his chair and gives me a long, assessing look. “But you already knew that. You’ve been planning something.”
He’s not wrong.
