"My father made his choice," I say, keeping my composure. "And I made mine."
"Did you?" Sokolov asks. "Or did you run out of options?"
"She’s a Blackwood," one of the other men mutters. "Blackwoods run when the heat gets high. Her father ran to Moretti. How long before she runs too?"
"I’m sitting right here," I declare. "I haven’t run anywhere."
"Because he has you on a leash," Sokolov snaps. "Don’t pretend you are one of us, girl. You’re a civilian. A liability."
He looks at Konstantin, his face twisting.
"This is a mistake, Konstantin. You let your lust blind you. A traitor's blood is always tainted."
Konstantin’s hand tightens on his glass, but he doesn't speak. He waits, letting me fight this battle.
I realize then what this is. Sokolov isn't insulting me. He’s baiting Konstantin. He wants the Enforcer to lose his temper, to act rashly, to prove he’s too unstable to be Pakhan.
This isn't a dinner. It's a succession war.
"We’re on the brink of war," Sokolov continues. "We barely survived the Atlantic Loop. Millions had to be moved, and we got lucky. But this? This is different."
He points a thick finger down the table at me.
"TheLady Anastasiais the most critical extraction of the decade. The return vessel from Venezuela is carrying the weapons that will secure our borders. If anything goes wrong, if the Feds intercept it, or the Italians hit it before it docks, we’re finished.”
He leans forward.
"And you put the logistics of this mission in the hands of a girl whose father is currently drinking wine with our enemy?"
"She’s my wife," Konstantin warns.
"She’s a security risk," Sokolov shouts, slamming his hand on the table. "Arthur Blackwood knows our routes! If she talks to him, if she whispers one coordinate, theAnastasiagets seized. We lose the drills. We lose the deal with the Cartel. We lose the war."
He leans back, crossing his arms.
"I say we remove her. Tonight. Strip her authority. We force her to hand over the gate access, put her in a cell where she can't talk to anyone, and run the logistics ourselves."
My heart hammers. They want to cage me again. They want to turn me back into a prisoner, stripped of the only leverage I have left.
I look at Konstantin. He’s watching me. He isn’t going to save me. He’s waiting to see if his Queen can bite back.
I slowly place my fork down.
I check the Rolex on my wrist. It’s 8:57 PM.
"Ivan," I say clearly.
From the shadows, Ivan steps forward, holding the large Operations Console, a rugged screen linked directly to the port mainframe.
"Director," Ivan says, ignoring the Council.
The Elders turn, confused.
"Bring me the console," I command.
Ivan places the screen in front of me. It’s glowing with a secure login prompt.
"What is this?" Sokolov demands, frowning. "We are discussing your removal."
