Because if I go back into that apartment right now after seeing Natalya crying, shaking, trying to sweep glass with trembling hands…I’m going to track down those two bastards myself and put their heads through a wall before Dmitri even has time to ask what the bodies are doing on his doorstep.
I exhale slowly, forcing control back into my spine. Losing it helps no one. Definitely not her.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hit Alexei’s number first. He answers on the second ring.
“What happened?” he asks immediately, no preamble, his voice tight in that way it gets when he’s already preparing for the worst.
“Two street-level idiots tried to extort her,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Came into the shop, broke things. Threatened her.”
There’s a sharp inhale on the other side. “Is she hurt?”
“No.” My jaw clenches. “Not physically.”
Alexei lets out a low curse. “I’ll send men to clean up the shop. And I’ll rotate two guards there for the next week, maybe longer. I want constant eyes on her.”
“I’ve got three of mine outside already,” I answer. “No one’s getting near her.”
“Good.” A beat. “But Viktor…you know how this will look. You know what line you’re crossing.”
“I’m well aware,” I say flatly.
He sighs, and for a second he’s less the Balshovpakhanand more the man who’s known me long enough to recognize when something is no longer just business. “Then hear me clearly. You have tonight to calm her, to keep her safe. Tomorrow morning, before anything spreads—you call Andrei. And Mikhail.”
My shoulders tense. “She doesn’t want to ruin their visit.”
“I don’t care,” Alexei snaps. “If they hear from someone else that she was threatened? That the shop was hit?” His tone darkens. “There will be hell to pay.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
“You’d better.” Then softer, “How bad was she?”
I look up at the apartment window, my chest tightening with something unrecognizable.
“She was terrified,” I admit quietly. “They broke things. Cornered her. She stood her ground, but…she was shaking.”
Alexei goes silent. That silence says everything.
“I’m sending people now,” he says finally. “Go take care of her.”
After the call ends, I dial Dmitri next.
He answers with a lazy, distracted-sounding, “Viktor,privet—what’s on fire now?”
“Two men hit Natalya’s shop.”
I can almost see the instant shift. His voice drops. “Who?”
“Dunno yet. But I plan to find out.”
Dmitri exhales sharply. “Could be Krasnov’s leftovers…he’s been scrambling for territory since the Popovs fell. But I’ll ask around.”
“Krasnov doesn’t have the balls to hit a Balshov-adjacent business.”
“He has the stupidity,” Dmitri mutters. “Let me confirm.”
He ends the call just as Vanda nuzzles my leg. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
