Page 97 of Imperfect Desires

Viktor continues, his tone low and lethal. “She was beaten. Drugged. Nearly violated. He was going to terminate her pregnancy and force her into marriage. My men pulled her out before he succeeded.”

I experience the intense heat of that truth again. My fingers twitch close to the blade concealed under my jacket.

Viktor takes a step forward, eyes locked on Thiago. “You let one of your dogs bite me.”

The room goes still. Even the guards do not shift. Viktor doesn’t blink. “Now I’m asking if you’re going to clean it up…” He pauses and lets the silence build like a drumroll before the execution. “…or if I’m going to burn down your kennel.”

Thiago doesn’t flinch, but his jaw tightens just enough for me to notice. His men tense with tiny movements- a shift in weight, a finger twitch on a trigger. They’re waiting to see how this unfolds.

He exhales slowly. Then looks at Viktor with a calm that feels manufactured. “Mendes was not acting under my orders,” he says. “If I had known what he planned, I would’ve killed him myself.”

Viktor doesn’t respond. Just stares.

Thiago goes on. “But he was one of mine. Which means his actions reflect on me.”

He looks between us. His gaze lingers on me a second longer. “You want him dead. I understand.”

“No,” I say coldly. “I want to put him in the ground myself.”

Thiago nods once, measured.

“I’ll find him. Give me seventy-two hours.”

Viktor crosses his arms. “You have forty-eight.”

Thiago doesn’t flinch. He just watches us—sharp, still, and calculating. I see it behind his eyes; he’s doing the math. The Makarov Bratva isn’t a street-level gang. We’re not corner boys slinging dime bags and flexing for turf. We own entire cities, ports, and arms routes. We don’t answer to local law—we make it.

And we’re not alone.

The Greek mafia stands behind us—Aithan Vasilios himself signed blood with Viktor through marriage. That alliance alone makes us untouchable in half of Europe.

Thiago knows that.

He knows crossing us over one disloyal peddler isn’t just bad for business. It’s suicide.

He glances at Viktor, then me. “I’ve worked too long and too hard to let someone like Mendes compromise everything. He’s been with us a long time… but not everyone earns protection just by sticking around.”

Zasha smirks faintly beside me. “Translation: you’d rather cut off a finger than lose the hand.”

Thiago doesn’t deny it.

He lifts his chin, finality in his voice now. “I’ll find him. And when I do… he’s yours.”

Viktor stares at him for a moment, then nods. That’s it. A war has been avoided for now. But my blood is still boiling. My fingers still twitch. Because until Mendes is in the ground, this is far from over.

33

Alina

The sunlight in Viktor’s estate feels like a balm. It spills through the tall windows of the sitting room, bathing everything in a soft golden hue. It is the kind of light that embodies peace and safety.

I’m curled on the velvet chaise near the fireplace, tucked under a cashmere blanket, a warm mug of herbal tea cradled between my palms. The air smells faintly of lavender and honey.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not afraid.

Scarlett sits nearby on the floor, one twin on each side of her, as they babble and knock soft blocks against each other. Her laughter floats through the room—low and sweet—as she triesto referee their game. Watching her, I feel a pang of something fragile and beautiful. Hope, maybe.

The door opens, but I do not bother to crane my neck, thinking it’s either one of the staff or Lev checking on me again—he barely lets me out of his sight.

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