Bella’s hand twitches on the table. Her eyes dart to mine, then back to Alya.
“Not right now, sweetheart,” she says softly. “You go ahead.”
Alya beams, oblivious to the tension she just dropped like a live grenade. “Okay!” And she’s off, leaving Bella and me alone in the sudden silence.
“Since when?” I demand, my voice low, dangerous.
Bella swallows, fingers fidgeting with her napkin. “She… just started calling me that. Earlier.”
“Right.” My chest is tight. My pulse pounds at my temples. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? Family. Stability. A wife to keep my children close. But this? This is more. This is… too much.
“Konstantin,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “We need to talk.”
Before I can respond, footsteps pound down the hallway—hard, urgent. Not the children. Arseny bursts through the doorway, face grim, phone in hand. Not the face of a man who just slipped away for a liaison.
“Boss. Code Red.”
I’m on my feet instantly, wine forgotten. “What?”
“Someone placed a bomb at St. Nicholas Cathedral. Detonated twenty minutes ago.” His voice is clinical, detached, the way it gets when he’s processing catastrophe. “North wing destroyed. Bell tower collapsed. FBI and police are on scene.”
Yob tvoyu mat.
The rage that floods through me is ice-cold, clarifying. Calculations spin through my mind—timing, suspects, implications. Four days before the ceremony. The cathedral where five generations ofPakhanhave taken their oaths. The message couldn’t be clearer.
“Evacuate the children to the safe house,” I order, already pulling out my phone. “Now.”
“Konstantin, what’s happening?” Bella’s voice cuts through the chaos like a thread pulled taut. She’s standing there, eyes wide, face pale as the color drains away. Fear tightens her features, and for a moment, I hate that she’s seen me like this—jaw clenched, eyes blazing, barely holding onto the leash of my fury.
I step toward her, forcing my voice to stay level. “Listen to me. You’re going to the safe house.”
Her brows knit together, confusion creasing her forehead. “Safe house? What— Where?”
Before I can answer, Viktor and Oleg rush in, moving like twin hurricanes.
Viktor’s hand clamps around Bella’s arm, firm but not harsh. “Pack what you need. Now.”
Oleg is already on his earpiece, barking orders to the security team. “Deploy secondary unit. Full lockdown. We’re moving her now.”
Bella’s gaze snaps back to me, panic flaring in her eyes. “Konstantin—”
“Go,” I say, harder than I mean to, but there’s no time to explain. “Take the kids. Pack for a few days. Don’t ask questions.”
“Days?” she echoes, the word catching in her throat.
Viktor tugs her gently but insistently toward the hallway, and she stumbles along, her head twisting over her shoulder to look at me. I force myself to turn away because if I don’t, I’ll follow her. And I can’t. Not now.
Someone wants to play games with me. Fine.
I’ll show them how a Belov plays to win.
69
Konstantin
“Details,” I snap, my boots echoing on the marble floor as we head to the security room.
“Single device, high yield,” Arseny says, his voice low, precise. “Detonated in the nave at dawn. No casualties—too early for worshippers—but the structure’s compromised. FBI’s calling it terrorism, but our sources say Bratva signatures. Someone wanted it personal.”
