“It is, boss. But there’s another unwanted development. Someone is feeding intel to the Feds,” Matvey divulged.
“And this someone…you don’t know who they are?”
“Not yet, boss. The information wasn’t communicated digitally or even recorded. We only got to know there was someone else by following their movements. Whoever it is, they are using people to keep themselves out of the picture,” Matvey explained.
“Nothing ties back to them, yet,” Sergei remarked.
I nodded.
“Since the bastard has opened things up, one or two guys might just want to run their mouths,” he added.
My phone vibrated on the table.
It was Viktor.
“You can leave,” I told them.
“Okay, boss.”
“Yes, boss.”
As they swiftly moved out of the room, I picked up the call.
“Konstantin, I hope you have results to share with me. Has she spoken yet?”
“Not yet, brother. She still claims not to know anything. That she had ended things with him since before his arrest,” I explained.
“That’s not the information we need, you know that.”
Of course, I knew. I also knew that I could only keep the truth from my brother for so long. I couldn’t tell him about my plan if he didn’t know what step I’d taken.
“I married her, brother,” I said. “Yesterday.”
There was silence on the other side.
Then he spoke. “Familiarize me with your thought process.”
I swallowed before explaining. “Marrying her is the only way to keep her close and watch her until I find out the truth. Other factions will be on the lookout for her once they find out who she was to Vitya Morozov. Putting her under Bratva protection keeps her off limits to them—if we can’t get any information from her, neither can they.”
“Get yourself to New York at once,” he commanded. “And bring her with you. She’s wanted in Russia.”
“Okay,” I agreed before he ended the call.
I pulled out Alina’s file again, going through each record to see if any tiny detail could point to something. I read about her family tragedy, orphanage admission, clinic recommendations, and charity work. Her records were spotless. She didn’t fit the profile of a traitor.
But we can’t afford another leak.
I have to confront her one more time.
So I stood up and left my office with another reason to see her.
I found her sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. She was in a simple white nightgown. It was an ordinary scene, but not one I saw often.
Seeing her hair pour down her back wasn’t just beautiful; it evoked a feeling of tenderness in me.
She seemed to hesitate before looking up at me, and I blurted out, “I’ve never seen your hair down before.”
A curious look took over her face as she turned to the side, her body facing me.
