“Bogdan. His personal accounts. His digital signature. There’s no way to spin this as Daria’s operation. The money moved through her name, but every decision point leads back to him. This is it. This is the proof we needed. Hard evidence, not theory. Enough to redirect the federal investigation and clear Daria.”
Relief hits hard, but I don’t move. Not yet.
“You’re certain?”
“I’ve triple-checked everything. It’s airtight. I’m sending the files to you now, and I’m copying Dmitri. By the time Alexei gets back to Moscow, Dmitri will have seen all of it.”
“Alexei’s here. In the apartment.”
A pause. “Well, shit. How’s that going?”
“About how you’d expect.” I glance at Alexei, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes. “Hold on; I’m going to put you on speaker.”
I tap the screen and hold the phone between us.
“Tony, tell Alexei what you just told me.”
“Alexei.” Tony’s voice fills the small space. “I know you came to St. Petersburg expecting to clean up a mess, but the mess isn’tDaria. It’s Bogdan Lebedev. I have documentation proving he’s been running money to federally blacklisted organizations using shell companies in Daria’s name. The evidence is conclusive. Dmitri is receiving it as we speak.”
Alexei’s shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. The tension drains from him as he recalibrates the situation.
“You’re certain this will hold up?” he asks. “If we take this to Yevgeny and use it to justify action against his nephew, it needs to be ironclad.”
“It’s ironclad. Bogdan got sloppy. He thought the encryption would hold, but he used the same protocols across multiple accounts. Once I cracked one, I cracked them all. I’m also sending the files to a contact at the federal prosecutor’s office. Their investigation will have a new primary target. Daria’s name will be cleared, and Bogdan becomes the most wanted man in St. Petersburg.”
Alexei straightens his jacket and takes a step back from the hallway. “Dmitri will want to see this evidence before he authorizes any action against Bogdan. But assuming Tony’s assessment is accurate, we’re no longer looking at eliminating a traitor.”
“We’re looking at hunting one.”
“Yes.” A cold smile crosses Alexei’s face. “Bogdan Lebedev has been using a Kozlov to build his empire. Using her name and her connection to us. He thought he could hide behind Yevgeny’s protection while he bled our family dry.”
“He was wrong.”
“He was very wrong.” Alexei rolls his shoulders, and some of the coiled violence drains out of his posture. “I’ll need to call Dmitri and update him on the situation.”
“What will you tell him?”
“The truth. His operative was right, and I was ready to make a mistake that would have cost us. Dmitri won’t be surprised. He’s always had better instincts about people than I do. It’s why he’s pakhan, and I’m the one who shows up when things need to get bloody.” He chuckles then adds, “Well, that and he’s an old man.”
“You don’t sound bothered by that.”
“Why would I be? Everyone has their role. Mine is to be the threat that makes people cooperate. Yours, apparently, is to be the conscience that keeps us from going too far. Dmitri will find that amusing. He’s been telling me for years that I need someone to balance my… enthusiasm.”
“I’m not interested in being your conscience.”
He smirks and replies, “No. You’re interested in protecting Daria. That’s fine. Protect her. But understand that what comes next won’t be clean. Bogdan has resources, connections, and a survival instinct that’s kept him alive this long. Taking him down means getting dirty.”
“I’ve been dirty before.”
“Good. Hold onto that. You’ll need it.” Alexei moves toward the couch and sits, stretching his arms across the back. “Now, get Daria. I want to apologize before we start planning her ex-husband’s funeral.”
I don’t move. “You’re staying?”
“Until we can get a plan formed. I came to handle a problem. The problem changed, but I’m still here.” He crosses one ankle over his knee and waves a hand toward the hallway. “I promise not to bite.”
I turn toward the bedroom, where Daria and Kira are still waiting. The woman I’m falling for is probably crouched against the wall, straining to hear every word, wondering if she’s going to live or die.
She’s going to live.
