Page 115 of Dangerous Beginnings

Before I can respond, he steps closer and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, the warmth of the gesture at odds with the cold atmosphere in the room.

“I need to talk to Dominik,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nod, the frustration bubbling inside me quelled only slightly by his tenderness. Turning away, I retreat to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stare out the small window at the snow-dusted trees, a knot of unease tightening in my chest.

The situation with Petrov—it’s not just about him going quiet. Something much bigger is unfolding.

Aslanov

The air in the cabin feels suffocating, heavy with an unspoken weight. Dominik’s note is still crumpled in my hand, the words burned into my mind. Petrov hasn’t been seen for weeks now.

A part of me had dismissed it at first. Petrov had been playing dangerous games, undermining my business by sabotaging transport operations, throwing sand in the gears of everything I’ve built. He was breaking the rules and making careless mistakes. I wanted his downfall. I wanted to find the rat that was poisoning my operations alongside him. But now, with his sudden disappearance, the situation is far more complicated than I thought.

Petrov was supposed to be in Sochi, in the North, weeks ago. But another source from the North has denied his presence there. Petrov was supposed to return within a week, but there’s no sign of him. He disappeared like a fog when the sun rose.

And then, Dominik’s note—Petrov’s absence isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a threat. I realize now that I’ve underestimated the situation. What started as an attempt toweed out a single rat in my organization is far more entangled.

This explains the camera feeds not picking up a single thing, it wouldn’t have been possible for Petrov to dodge all of them.

And when I thought one of my trusted lieutenants had supposedly fallen into Petrov’s hands, it had been into someone else’s hands.

Dominik stands near the table, waiting for my response. The tension between us is palpable, a current of urgency and distrust. I crumple the note again, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet.

“Weeks, and my men only now find out?” My voice is low, simmering with barely contained anger.

Dominik doesn’t flinch. Instead, he grabs the notepad and scribbles something down.

They assumed Petrov was lying low, hiding. Didn’t want to act too soon and ruin our chances of confronting him.

“Assumed,” I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue. “Assumptions cost lives. Hesitation like this could cost me everything.”

Dominik nods, then writes again.

His safe house in Sochi is empty. They said it looked abandoned. He also hasn’t been at several meetings with his men, an inside source told us.

“Abandoned.” The word hangs in the air like a death sentence. Petrov wouldn’t abandon his safe house unless something had gone terribly wrong. And he for sure would not have left it in the state it had been left. That place is his fallback, his last line of defense. If it’s empty, then something catastrophic has happened.

I stop pacing and face Dominik directly. “Have we checked the secondary location?”

Dominik hesitates before writing again.

Not yet. Last intel said he wasn’t using it regularly.

“He will if he has to disappear,” I snap, then pause, thinking. “Send someone now. Keep it quiet. No more mistakes. If he isn’t there, we are expecting different trouble.”

Dominik nods, taking the notepad again to write something to himself. Then he looks back at me.

“What about the surveillance feeds?” I ask, my voice sharp, my patience thinning.

Dominik writes quickly.

Requested. We’ll have the footage in an hour. But it will most likely be negative.

“Check them anyway.” The words feel hollow, the weight of everything settling into my bones. If Petrov has been compromised, it’s not just a personal blow—it’s a strategic one.

He holds too many secrets and knows too much about the Bratva, about me, and Isabella. If someone has him, they won’t hesitate to bleed him dry, using every piece of information to take us down.

“If someone has him, they’ll use him against us,” I murmur under my breath, my thoughts spinning. “For now, we keep this between us. No one else can know.”

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