Page 38 of Shatter Me

"Oh, now you want my insight?" Sofia's eyes dance with amusement. "I thought you didn't want me involving Nikolai?"

"I definitely hate you."

She reaches for the wine bottle. "You love me. And you're totally overthinking this."

"I'm not overthinking anything." But my fingers keep brushing over my phone screen, fighting the urge to reply to his message.

"Sure, that's why you've checked your phone five times in the last minute." Sofia tops off my glass. "Want me to text Nikolai? I'm sure he could tell us exactly what Dmitri's planning."

"Don't you dare!" I snatch her phone away before she can reach it. "I mean it, Sofia. Not a word to Nikolai."

15

DMITRI

Isend the text to Tash, knowing she’ll bristle at the early hour and my commanding tone. Good. After her little display with Matthews, she needs a reminder of who she belongs to.

My phone buzzes with an update from our surveillance team. Another Lebedev attack, this time at our shipping facility in Brooklyn. Three of our men were dead. I scroll through the damage report.

The door to my study opens. Nikolai strides in, his face carved from granite. “Conference room. Now.”

I follow him down the hall, where our top lieutenants await. The tension thickens as we enter. Alexi leans against the wall, arms crossed. Erik paces by the window.

I take my place at the head of the conference table, scanning the faces of our most trusted men. Viktor Popov sits to my left, his weathered face showing the scars of thirty years in the brotherhood. His expertise in weapons trafficking has kept our armories stocked through three wars.

Across from him, Ivan Morozov drums thick fingers against the mahogany. The old bear’s network of corrupt officials reaches from Boston to Moscow. His son died in last month’s attack—this is personal for him now.

“Report,” I command, and the room falls silent.

“Three dead at the docks,” Alexi says, pulling up security footage on the wall screen. “Professional hit team. They knew our rotation schedule.”

“We have a leak,” growls Morozov, his accent thickening with rage.

“Igor Lebedev is getting bold,” Viktor adds, leaning forward. “First the warehouse, now this. They’re trying to strangle our supply lines.”

Erik’s tactical assessment cuts through the tension. “They’re testing our defenses, looking for weak points before a larger move.”

“Then we show them there are no weak points,” Nikolai states. His calm authority settles the restless energy in the room.

I study the faces around me—men who’ve given decades of loyalty to my family. Men who’ve bled for us, killed for us. Their anger at this betrayal runs as deep as my own.

“Gentlemen,” I say, “it’s time we reminded everyone why the Ivanov name is feared.”

The predatory grins on their faces tell me they’re ready for war.

I lean back, watching my eldest brother command the room. Even after all these years, Nikolai’s presence demands attention without effort.

“They want war?” Nikolai’s voice carries that dangerous edge I know well. Then we’ll give them war. But we do this smartly, strategically.”

“We could hit their legitimate businesses first,” Alexi suggests, fingers dancing over his tablet. “Their shipping routes, their?—”

“No.” Nikolai cuts him off. “We need something that hurts deeper than money. Something personal.”

Erik shifts, his military training evident in how he analyzes each suggestion. “Igor Lebedev’s weakness has always been his family.”

“His daughter.” Ivan Morozov’s gravelly voice draws all eyes. “Katarina. She’s running a tech startup, completely legitimate. Keeps her distance from the family business.”

“She’s vulnerable,” Nikolai muses. “Living outside our territory, thinking she’s safe in her clean little world. One daughter, living alone, playing entrepreneur...”

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