Konstantin nods, his breath fogging in the evening air. " Viktor will be there. He has been quiet since Klaus arrived."
"Too quiet," Dmitri adds. "He either knows something or suspects something."
Marcus stands slightly apart, listening but not speaking. He has been training hard for two days, learning protocols, hierarchy, how to read the room. But this will be his first real test—walking into a Bratva celebration as an outsider, as my brother, and not getting himself killed.
"The line is thin," I say, more to myself than them. "I have not tested loyalty as much as I wanted. One wrong move tonight and we are all dead." I down the vodka in one swallow, feeling the burn. "But we do not have more time. Klaus is here. He is watching. And if I do not move soon, he will move first."
The door behind us opens, and I turn automatically, hand moving toward my gun before I register who it is. Then I see her, and my breath stops.
Alena.
She stands in the doorway wearing a black dress that makes my heart actually skip a beat. Long, elegant, fitted in all the right places but tasteful enough for a Bratva event.Her hair is styled, her makeup done professionally—she spent all afternoon with stylists and makeup artists Klaus sent over, his way of "helping" that felt more like control. But none of that matters because she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Except her face. No smile breaks free, not even a small one. She looks anxious, scared, her eyes darting between the armed men on the porch and me. And damn it, I hate that. I hate that she is afraid, hate that I am the reason she is walking into a lion's den tonight, hate that I cannot protect her from what is coming.
"You are so beautiful," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. The words feel inadequate, insufficient to capture what I am seeing, what I am feeling.
Konstantin and Dmitri immediately lower their eyes in respect—a Bratva tradition when the boss's woman appears. Marcus follows their lead after a brief hesitation, and I make a mental note to thank him later for catching on so quickly.
I cross to her and take her hand, bringing it to my lips. The black diamond catches the porch light, glittering like a warning. "Are you ready?" I ask quietly, searching her face.
She nods, but I can see the fear in her eyes. "As ready as I will ever be."
"Stay close to me tonight," I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. "Do not accept drinks from anyone but me. Do not leave my sight. And if anything feels wrong—anything at all—you tell me immediately. Understood?"
"Understood," she whispers back.
I tuck her hand into the crook of my arm and lead her toward the car—a black Mercedes with bulletproof windows and reinforced doors, because nothing about tonight is casual or safe. Konstantin opens the back door, and I help Alenainside before sliding in beside her. Marcus takes the front passenger seat, and Dmitri drives.
The drive is silent and tense. I keep Alena's hand in mine, my thumb stroking circles on her palm, trying to ground her, to reassure her. But I can feel her trembling slightly, can see her watching the streets pass by with wide, anxious eyes.
Konstantin breaks the heater to high. Fuck, I could hug him—it's freezing in here. I am sure if I looked down my dick would flip me off.
We are heading to a private estate outside London—a converted manor house that Klaus has used for events like this before. Fortified, isolated, easy to control. No phones allowed inside. Everyone gets patted down at the door. Armed men at every entrance, on the roof, in the gardens. If Klaus wanted to make a move against me, this would be the perfect place to do it.
Which is exactly why I agreed to it. Because if Klaus is planning something, I want it to happen where I can see it coming. Where I can respond. Where I can end this once and for all.
"What should I expect?" Alena asks quietly, breaking the silence.
I glance at her, considering how much to tell her, how much truth she can handle. Then I decide she deserves all of it. "It will be dark. Luxurious but intimidating. Mostly men—maybe eighty, ninety percent. Wives and girlfriends will be there, but they stay quiet, stay in the background. You will be the center of attention because you are the bride-to-be, but that is not a good thing. It is a power display."
She swallows hard. "What do I do?"
"Stay beside me. Let me do the talking. When they toast, you smile and nod. When they give gifts, you thank themgracefully but do not open anything. When Klaus asks you to show the ring—and he will—you hold up your hand and let them look. That is it. You are there to be seen, to be claimed, to prove that I am building a legacy."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"Then you get behind me and you let me handle it." I bring her hand to my lips again, kissing her knuckles. "But nothing is going to go wrong. I will not let it."
It is a promise I am not sure I can keep, but I say it anyway because she needs to hear it. Because I need to believe it.
The car slows as we approach the gates—tall, wrought iron, flanked by armed guards who check our credentials before waving us through. The driveway is long, tree-lined, leading up to a sprawling manor house lit with dim golden light. Cars are already parked in neat rows—expensive vehicles, all black or dark grey, all belonging to men who could kill us without blinking if Klaus gave the order.
Dmitri pulls up to the entrance, and I see Klaus waiting at the top of the steps with that warm, paternal smile that makes my skin crawl. He is surrounded by his inner circle—six men who have been with him for decades, who are loyal unto death, who will not hesitate to put a bullet in my head if he commands it.
This is it. The performance begins now. One wrong move, one slip of the mask, and we are all dead. I squeeze Alena's hand one more time, feeling the cold metal of her engagement ring against my palm.
"Ready?" I ask.
