Page 4 of Prey of the Bratva

A pause. Then a quiet laugh.

“I would never insult you like that,” Sera replied.

I allowed myself the faintest hint of a smile. “Good. That means you’re learning.”

“Or that I enjoy not being fired,” she countered. “Which, given your standards, feels like a daily achievement.”

I moved toward my desk, opening the concealed drawer beneath it. Inside, neatly arranged, were items no one in my family knew existed. A second set of keys. Cash. A compact firearm. I ignored the last one for now.

“Status,” I said.

“Warehouse is clear,” Sera replied immediately, the humor gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “Your contact arrived twenty minutes ago. He’s nervous.”

“He should be.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

“You’re certain you want to do this alone?”

“I’m not doing it alone,” I said calmly. “I have you.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

Then, softer this time, “You know if this ties back to what you think it does—”

“It will,” I interrupted.

I did not raise my voice. She did not need to. Certainty carried its own weight.

“Then you’re walking into something much bigger than a mid-level logistics coordinator.”

“I know.”

“And if your brothers find out—”

“They won’t.”

“You say that like it’s a fact.”

“It is a fact.”

“You’re terrifying when you’re like this.”

My lips curved faintly. “Only when I’m right.”

“You’re always right.”

“Exactly.”

"The car is ready three blocks east,” Sera said. “Same setup as last time. Clean plates. No traceable link.”

“Good.”

“And Misha?”

I paused, fingers resting lightly against the edge of the desk.