Page 28 of Married to the Bratva

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the calculations she’s making, the risks she’s weighing. She’s smart—smarter than most—but even she knows there are no perfect answers here.

“And if I say no?” she asks finally.

“You won’t,” I say simply. “You can’t afford to.”

The defiance flares back up in her eyes, but before she can retort, I add, “And as a goodwill gesture whether you get the fileunlocked or not, I’ll pay your grandmother’s medical bills. Past and future.”

That gives her pause. Her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. She’s wavering, caught between anger and desperation, and I know I’ve hit the mark.

“This is insane,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “Completely insane.”

“Maybe,” I say, stepping closer until the space between us is nonexistent. “But it’s also your only option.”

She looks up at me then, her eyes searching mine for something she won’t find. Trust. Compassion. Reassurance. I don’t offer her any of those things. Only truth.

“Thirty days,” she says finally. “And then we’re done.”

“Thirty days,” I reply, my tone steady. “Agreed?”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods once, sharply. “Agreed.”

20

MAXIM

The room is stark and modern, all sleek black furniture and glowing monitors mounted on the walls. Streams of code, maps, and live feeds from surveillance cameras scroll across the screens.

Dimitri is seated at the central desk, his fingers flying over two keyboards like a pianist playing an intricate concerto. The glow of the monitors casts sharp shadows over his angular face, his expression one of complete focus.

“Dimitri, this is your competition.”

He glances up, his smirk sliding into place the moment he sees Sophie. “So this is the expert cryptographer?” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I told you, I don’t need help. I’ll get the thing unlocked soon enough, and then you’ll owe me a bonus, and Nikolai will owe me an apology for doubting me.”

“Show her the file.”

He shrugs, spinning in his chair to face one of the monitors. With a few keystrokes, the screen fills with a series of graphs, codes, and a bold countdown timer sitting ominously in the corner: 29 days, 17 hours, 34 minutes.

“Here’s the deal,” Dimitri says, gesturing to the screen. “A self-encrypting file with layers of security so thick, it’s like wading through quicksand. Once that timer hits zero, the file locks permanently. Whatever’s inside? Gone. Did you install the timer?”

Sophie steps closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing as she studies the data. “Nope,” she mutters, more to herself than to us. “Someone else did and it wasn’t Evan. Someone’s toying with you, Maxim.”

Dimitri spins his chair to face her. “As I told the boss, I don’t need an assistant.”

Sophie’s hands tighten into fists, her shoulders squaring as she turns to face him. “How far have you got since you started?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dimitri says with a dismissive wave. “I know this shit better than anyone. If anyone can crack this, it’s me.”

She glances back at the monitor, the countdown timer ticking away like a heartbeat. Then she turns to me. “I work alone, not with arrogant pieces of shit like this. I’ll do it on my laptop, far away from him.”

“Two heads are better than one.”

“Cliché.” She shakes her head. “You wanted my help. That’s my condition. I work alone in my own space.”

21

SOPHIE

“Sophie, sweetheart!” Grandma’s voice is bright and warm, and for a moment, the tension in my chest loosens. “Are you all right?”

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