Page 79 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

I hum low in my throat, the sound of agreement.

Viktor. The roach who’s been slithering too close to our territories for months now. Petty thefts. Subtle manipulation. Men disappearing. He thinks I don’t see it. That I’m too distracted to notice. He’s wrong.

I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to crush him.

Tonight might be that moment.

We step inside the warehouse and head toward the center, where a long steel table waits with chairs lined on one side. A few of my men linger near the walls, all armed, all silent. Boris lights another cigarette, the cherry flare reflecting in his narrowed eyes.

“Any word from the Belarus contact?” I ask.

Boris nods. “They confirmed Viktor’s been paying off port officials. Smuggling through crates marked for us.”

Of course he has.

“He’s sloppy,” I mutter. “Wants to play king, but he can’t even cover his tracks.”

“Still dangerous,” Boris says. “He’s got men. Money. No brain, but plenty of greed.”

I glance toward the door as a car pulls up, headlights cutting through the dark before shutting off. Another moment, then boots on concrete.

Viktor enters flanked by two of his men—jittery types, hands too close to their jackets. I make a point not to sit. Let him look up at me while I stay standing. Let him feel that imbalance before a single word is spoken.

He tries to smile. It looks like something curdled in milk.

“Kolya,” he says, extending a hand I don’t take. “Glad we could meet face-to-face.”

I stare at his hand until he lowers it.

“I hear you’ve been stealing from me,” I say flatly. “My old friend, Yuri. He told me.”

He laughs, too loudly. “Come on. You know how rumors spread. Misunderstandings.”

My smile is thin and sharp. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Misunderstanding?”

Boris shifts beside me, arms crossed. “Crates, Viktor. Three of them. Pulled from our route. Labeled foryourcrew.”

“An error in logistics,” Viktor says quickly. “I was going to reach out—”

I cut him off with a raised hand.

“You’ve made a mistake,” I say quietly. “Several, actually. And I’ve been patient.”

He swallows, eyes darting behind me like he’s calculating escape routes. Cute.

I lean forward slightly. “You’re going to fix it. You’re going to give me names. Every port official, every smuggler, every rat in your little network. And then you’re going to disappear from this city. Quietly.”

His mouth opens, closes.

“I—”

“You don’t speak,” I snap, voice like a blade. “Youlisten.”

The room goes still. His men inch closer, but mine are faster—guns half drawn, just enough to remind them they’ll die first.

I don’t move. “You think I’m distracted?” I ask. “Think my attention’s been elsewhere?”

Viktor says nothing. He’s smarter than he looks.

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