Page 27 of Tattooed Heart

“When did you take these?” Aleksandr questions, his voice dangerously soft.

“Last week,” I say, swallowing hard. “The same night I told Talia I was going to my apartment for clothes.”

His mouth tenses and his eyebrows snap together. “You've been busy.”

“Someone had to be.” The words come out sharp, but I can’t take them back. Iwon’ttake them back. “We need to follow the money. Morozov might be smart, but greed leaves a trail. Those envelopes they're exchanging…there's got to be records, bank statements, something to prove they're not just having friendly chats in parking lots.”

Peter glances at Aleksandr, something unspoken passing between them. “She's right about the money,” he says. “Financial records would be harder to dismiss than a recording or photographs. If we could connect Petrov to payments made to Russo or the judge...”

“Then we could blow the whole case open,” I finish, renewed determination surging. “Get Dimitri out. Make them pay for what they've done.”

The door to the office opens, and Lev steps in, broad-shouldered, composed, and already reading the room. His eyes sweep over the photos scattered across the desk, the recorder resting beside them, and then land on me. He takes in the smudged makeup, the tension in my shoulders, the fire I’m not bothering to hide.

“Sandy’s been busy,” he says dryly, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“Reckless,” Aleksandr mutters, not missing a beat.

“Effective,” I shoot back, not missing mine.

Lev crosses to the desk, his gaze narrowing as he studies the photos. Then he looks up directly at me. And for the first time, I see it. Not worry or frustration, but respect.

“I’ve already got our contact at City Records digging,” he informs Aleksandr. “I flagged any financial movement or unusual activity tied to Kiril or Petrov. Should have something back soon.”

Aleksandr doesn’t respond right away, but I see the shift in his stance, the calculation, and the beginning of belief.

We are getting closer. And now, they know it too.

“Have him dig into Russo, too,” Aleksandr instructs, his voice cool and controlled.

Then he turns to me, eyes like ice.

“This ends now,” he orders, the words slicing through the room like a blade. “You’ve done more than anyone could’ve asked. More than you should have. From here on out, you stay out of it. The investigation is ours now.”

The finality in his tone is unmistakable. But so is the fire building in my chest. The warmth drains from the room.

“Excuse me?”

“You're pregnant,” he reminds me as if I can possibly forget the life growing inside me. “You’re carrying my brother’s child, my blood. You're a target. And you're not trained for this.”

“I’m the one who got the recording,” I snap, the words sharp and fast. “I’m the one who risked everything to get those photos. While you’ve been barking orders and shaking down criminals, I’ve been out there collecting real evidence. Putting myself on the line because no one else would.”

“Enough!” Aleksandr thunders. “You’ve been putting yourself and your child at risk in the process.” His voice lowers, but his eyes blaze. “Dimitri would want you safe. Above all else.”

“Dimitri would want to be free,” I retort, anger burning away my exhaustion. “And I'm not stopping until he is.”

Aleksandr takes a step closer, his frame blocking the light, engulfing me in shadow. “This isn't a debate, Sandy. It's done.”

“Unless you're planning to lock me in a room with armed guards,” I hiss, meeting his gaze without flinching, “then this conversation is pointless.”

I can see the calculation in Aleksandr’s eyes. Evaluating the risk and determining exactly where my limit lies. What he sees in mine must give him pause because, after a brief silence, his posture shifts ever so slightly.

“You're just like him,” he says, surprising me. “Stubborn to the point of stupidity.”

I don’t back down. “I'm getting him out. With or without your help.”

Lev clears his throat, drawing our attention. “Perhaps a compromise,pakhan,” he suggests, his calm voice cutting through the tension between Aleksandr and me. “Sandy is smart and clearly has skills we've underestimated with passion that can't be contained.” He gestures to the evidence spread across the desk. “This proves that.”

Aleksandr's jaw tightens. “Your point?”

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