My wife.
The woman sleeping in my arms every night now, breathing steady against my chest like there’s nothing in the world that could harm her.
But I’m too wired. Too sharp.
My pulse is a hammer. My head is a storm. I’m a walking time bomb with a lit fuse. And I don’t want her anywhere near the explosion.
I drag a hand down my face. “Tell her…not now.”
The words taste like poison. I hate myself for saying them. But I’d hate myself more if I let this rage spill on her. The guard nods and leaves.
Five brutal minutes later, the elevator beeps—and Sebastian barrels through the door without knocking, looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His auburn hair is mussed, shirt half-buttoned, ink smudged along his wrist and collar like he wrestled his sketchbook on the way here.
He tosses his bag onto my desk.
“You look like shit,” Niko announces.
“I feel like shit,” he answers.
“What did you find?” I butt in before they can jab each other.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. That alone twists my stomach. Sebastian only loses his humor when things are truly bad.
He sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Dimitri…what I’m about to tell you, you need to calm down.”
“What is it?”
Sebastian exhales like he’s about to detonate a bomb.
“Koval Group is being funded by anonymous offshore accounts traced to European shell companies—accounts once connected to Laurent holdings.”
For a moment, the world tilts. The air thins.
The implication is clear: Vivian’s name is once again tied to the blood on the floor.
And this time, there’s no denying what it means.
Niko, Lev, and Sebastian stare at me like they’re bracing for detonation. Their silence is a noose around my throat.
“What do you plan to do?” Niko asks, voice low, cautious—like he already knows the answer and fears it.
I open my mouth to respond, but the door swings open without a knock.
Sylvester steps inside, breathless. His eyes dart around the room before landing on me.
“There’s an urgent Bratva meeting,” he says, and even his voice sounds strained. “The Pakhan wants to see you immediately.”
The air tightens.
Lev swears under his breath. “You’re in trouble,” he says.
I throw him a lethal glare before storming out of the room. My brothers follow, silent, alert—like they know the ground is cracking under my feet.
The drive to the meeting location is suffocating. No one speaks.
I don’t need them to.
I know exactly what this meeting is about, and I’m already prepared to defend myself no matter what the night turns into.
