Page 23 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

This is the first real lead we have had in years.

A living connection tied directly to the final layer of the network.

Beside me, Ben stiffens almost imperceptibly.

I feel it more than I see it.

He knows exactly what I’m thinking.

The risk.

The manipulation.

The possibility that Karl is constructing an elaborate trap around desperation.

But he also knows something else:

I’m close.

Closer than I’ve ever been.

And men like me don’t walk away from proximity after spending years hunting certainty.

I stay silent because I’m calculating.

Marriage is irrelevant. Temporary. A legal arrangement can be controlled. Managed.

If he wants whoever this Morozova girl is to be protected before he releases information about the code, then so be it. I can always annul the marriage after. I’ve never believed in the sanctity of marriage.

The dormant accounts aren’t merely money.

They’re leverage. Infrastructure. Power buried beneath sixteen years of silence.

Enough power to reshape entire structures inside the Bratva.

Enough power to destabilize us if someone else gains access first.

Karl watches me carefully now.

At first, I almost ask for a photograph of Sofia. Something visual. Something to give me an idea of who she is.

But the thought dies as quickly as it appears. It’s irrelevant.

I’ll marry her regardless of what she looks like.

This is strategy, not attraction.

Convenience, not desire.

A legal arrangement attached to a larger objective.

Nothing more.

I keep my expression neutral.

“Before I agree to this,” I say, “give me something.”

Karl’s eyes sharpen.