Page 110 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

I move through the preparations with a ruthless, unblinking efficiency, coordinating logistics, security, and travel without a single second of delay. On the surface, the plan appears perfectly straightforward—a rapid extraction flight, a secure convoy to the container, a quick grab of Sofia’s books, and a ghost flight out before Karl and his syndicates even realize my wife has set foot on Russian soil.

He’s in Russia; I know that much. It all makes sense to me now. He knows Sofia will return for some of her books; he’s been planning this all along because those books are needed to complete the codes.

This is no longer a controlled operation. The stakes are violently escalating, the variables are shifting by the hour, and the risks are increasing exponentially. Going back to Russia right now is like walking directly into a burning house with a pocketful of gunpowder.

“I want the secondary perimeter secured the second the bird touches down,” I bark, not looking up from the tablet where I am authorizing a massive transfer of untraceable funds to our local safe houses. “No official customs, no digital footprints. We use the private hangar under the Bratva cover company. If a single border guard so much as looks at our manifest, I want him bought or buried before he can dial his supervisor.”

“Already taken care of, Boss.” Maxim, one of my senior guards, nods sharply. “The local captain at the tarmac has been on our payroll for a decade. He knows what happens if his memory suddenly improves.”

“Good. Double the bribe anyway. Desperate men get greedy, and Karl has deep pockets.” I swipe the screen, bringing up the layout of the storage facility. “Viktor, you’re on the transport. Three armored Mercedes SUVs. Heavy tint. I don’t want a caravan that screams mafia, but I want enough bulletproof steel to withstand a localized riot. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss. Weapons are already cached in the safe house outside the ring road. Submachine guns, thermal optics, and enough localized jammers to drop every cell tower within a two-mile radius of the storage units,” Viktor replies, his jaw tight.

I look at the men, their faces hardened by years of taking lives on my command. “This isn’t a standard hit or a territory dispute. My wife is on this flight. If a single scratch appears on her skin, if she so much as has to breathe heavily because you slipped up, I will personally ensure your deaths are the longest, most agonizing events this family has ever witnessed. Am I making myself clear?”

A chorus of disciplined, unified assent echoes through the concrete room.

“Clear the room. Get to the transport van,” I command.

They disappear down the corridor like ghosts, leaving only the low hum of the servers.

“You’re wound up tighter than a piano wire,” Ben says. He is wiping down the slide of a customized Glock, his movements slow and agonizingly casual compared to the storm raging inside my chest.

“We’re stepping directly into the viper’s nest, Ben,” I mutter, leaning my palms flat against the glass table, staring at the digital map of Moscow. “Karl isn’t a fool. He knows Sofia’sbooks are the key. He’s going to guess that if she didn’t find the answers here, she’ll look where her old life is stored.”

“Then we leave her here,” Ben says bluntly, slamming the magazine into the grip of his pistol with a loud, metallic click. “It’s basic operational security. You leave the asset in the safe house, we fly out, grab the damn books, and bring them back to her on a silver platter. Dragging her back to the motherland right now is a tactical nightmare.”

“She’s not an asset anymore,” I snap, my voice dropping into a dangerous, warning growl as I shoot him a lethal glare. “And she’s not staying behind. She’s driving this. It’s her father’s code, Ben. She figured out the missing links, and she explicitly tells me she’s doing this on her terms. I’m not ordering her around like a piece of cargo.”

Ben pauses, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he slides the firearm into his shoulder holster. He walks over to the table, looking down at the screen before looking back up at me.

“Well, damn,” Ben murmurs, a low chuckle escaping him. “The ice king finally thaws. Look at you, completely whipped for her.”

Ben’s face then turns serious, the humor draining from his eyes. “Please don’t let those feelings make you soft when we touch down. Russia is bleeding right now. The power vacuum has everyone clawing for any piece of control they might find. Your family assets over there will protect us out of fear and blood loyalty, but the moment Karl offers them a better deal or threatens their children, that loyalty is going to stretch thin.”

“I know the risks,” I say, my chest tightening as the gravity of the situation presses down on me. “That’s why you’re staying close to her. If shit goes sideways at the storage facility, your only job isn’t to fight. Your only job is to get Sofia to thesecondary extraction point and get her out of the country. Leave me behind if you have to. You protect my wife.”

Ben stares at me for a long, heavy moment, recognizing that my priorities have permanently shifted. The empire, the syndicate, the throne—none of it matters compared to the girl upstairs.

“On my life,” Ben says softly, giving my shoulder a hard, supportive squeeze. “She flies home. No matter what.”

I nod sharply, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. “Get the bird ready. We leave in an hour.”

Ben’s phone buzzes violently just as he turns to leave. I watch him whip it out of his pocket. He freezes instantly, his thumb hovering over the glass as he looks at the screen. The color drains slightly from his face. Without a word, he turns back around and hands the phone over to me.

It’s a message from Karl. He’s disappeared for weeks, lurking in the shadows like a rat, and now he is texting as if everything is completely normal. I look down and read the text:

I know how close you are to the code, Lukyan. Don’t be a fool. You hand it over to me the second you have it, or Sofia is a dead woman. I’m always watching.

The communication is direct and calculated. Karl is fully aware that we are right on the edge of obtaining the cipher. He thinks he can still use my wife to bend me to his knees.

A cold, lethal calm washes over me. I hand the phone back over to Ben, my expression turning to absolute stone.

Ben looks at the screen, then up at me, his jaw clenched. “What do we say to him? Do I draft a response?”

“No,” I say, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. “Go and get the jet ready. I’m not going to respond to a dead man.”

Ben nods sharply, understanding the silent fury ticking inside me, and disappears down the dark corridor.