Page 36 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“Viktor and Dmitri don’t get to approve or disapprove of my decisions regarding my wife. Neither do the other lieutenants.” There’s steel in his voice that leaves no room for argument. “They get to adapt to new realities or find employment elsewhere.”
The fierce protectiveness in his tone makes my pulse quicken. “What if they’re right? What if including me compromises security or undermines your authority?”
“We’ll deal with those consequences when they arise, but I don’t think they will. I think you’re going to surprise everyone with how naturally you fit into this world.”
“Including myself?”
“Especially yourself.” His kiss is soft but loaded with promise.
As he leads me back toward the main part of the house, I think about everything I overheard. Tomorrow night, I’ll have another chance to prove myself worthy of his faith. The thought terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.
Anticipation runs underneath the anxiety. I’m finally getting the chance to be the partner I’ve wanted to be from the beginning, and to prove that Tigran’s trust in me isn’t misplaced.
I just hope I don’t disappoint him. I don’t think I could handle seeing doubt in his eyes where there’s currently only confidence.
14
Tigran
The call comes through on my encrypted line at three-seventeen in the afternoon a week after my discussion with Dmitri and Viktor, shattering the relative peace of reviewing legitimate business contracts in my home office. Viktor’s voice cuts through the static with an urgency that makes my blood run cold.
“Boss, we have a problem. Someone just tried to run your wife and Claude Lo Duca off the road near the Chicago River.”
The words stun me, with each one registering separately before combining into a picture that makes my vision narrow with rage. I set down my pen with deliberate care using the same control I use before killing a man. “Details. Now.”
“A black SUV with no plates followed them from the Magnificent Mile shopping district. They forced Claude’s driver onto the sidewalk near Lower Wacker Drive before speeding away. Our people didn’t get there in time to stop them, and there wereno shots fired, but the intent was intimidation at minimum, or possibly a kidnapping attempt.”
My free hand clenches into a fist and the leather of my chair creaks under the pressure as I grip the arm. “Where are they now?”
“Heading home with a full security escort. Claude’s shaken but unharmed. Your wife…” Viktor pauses, and I hear something like admiration in his voice. “Your wife is demanding we track down the SUV immediately while questioning why our intelligence didn’t predict this move.”
Despite the fury coursing through my veins, there’s a flash of pride at Zita’s response. Of course, she would react to an assassination attempt by going on the offensive rather than cowering in fear. It’s what I should have expected from the woman who walked uninvited into my conference room and challenged my authority in front of seasoned killers.
“Get me everything,” I order, already moving toward the door. “Traffic camera footage, witness statements, and any intelligence we have on recent Federoff movements. I want to know who authorized this and why they thought they could touch my wife without consequences.”
“Already in progress, but there’s something else you need to know.”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “What?”
“This wasn’t random. The timing, the location, and they knew exactly where to find her. It makes me think someone’s been watching your wife’s movements. Maybe even someone with access to her schedule.”
The implication hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. He thinks there could be a leak in our security, possibly from someone close enough to our operation to know Zita’s plans shortly after she makes them. The list of people with that level of access is short, and the thought that one of them might have betrayed us sends a different kind of rage through my system.
“Sweep the house. Check every phone, every computer, and every communication device for surveillance software. If you find the rat, keep them alive until I can question them personally.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and stride through the mansion toward the front entrance, already calculating the security measures that need to be implemented immediately. We’ll need additional guards, armored vehicles for transport, and updated background checks on every staff member who has been in contact with Zita since our wedding. If Agvar is behind it as I suspect, he’s breaking all the rules of our world by targeting my wife.
The sound of car doors slamming draws my attention to the circular driveway visible through the tall windows flanking the main entrance. Three black sedans pull up in formation, their occupants moving with the precise choreography of a professional security detail. Claude emerges from the middle vehicle first, his face pale and his usually immaculate suit wrinkled from what must have been a harrowing experience.
Then Zita steps out, and I assess her appearance. Her dark hair is disheveled, her designer blouse is torn at the shoulder, and there is a small cut on her forehead that speaks to how close she came to serious injury. Despite that, her posture is straight, herchin lifted in that familiar gesture of defiance, and her eyes burn with a fury that matches my own.
She’s magnificent in her anger, and the sight of her alive and whole sends relief through me. I meet them at the front door, automatically reaching for Zita to check for injuries even as I scan the security perimeter for any signs of continued threat. She allows the contact for exactly three seconds before pulling away, her expression shifting from relief to irritation.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps, smoothing down her torn blouse with hands that tremble slightly despite her brave front. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” I point to the cut on her forehead.
