Page 56 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
He held me tightly, his face buried in my neck, his breath tagged against my skin. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of our shared intensity.
Chapter 18 – Danil
My body still vibrated from our intimacy, but my mind was already shifting gears, pulling me back to the cold, hard reality of the Bratva. There were dangers to handle, and traitors to expose.
I headed down to my private office, the one hidden within the estate’s labyrinth corridors. Matvey and Luka were already there, waiting, their faces grim. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the unspoken weights of pressing concerns.
“Danil,” Matvey greeted, low. “We’ve been reviewing the Sivella files, as you requested. And the intel you forwarded us.”
I nodded, taking my seat behind the heavy oak desk. “What have you found?” I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk, my fingers steepled. This was the moment of truth. My suspicion about Feliks had begun growing. Now, it was time for them to be confirmed.
Luka, ever the quiet analyst, spoke first. “It’s…deeply concerning, Danil. Feliks Durov has been orchestrating a rebranding of one of his shell companies, ostensibly toattract foreign investorsas he proposed at the meeting. But our deep analysis shows the true purpose is a complex web of transactions designed to disguise illegal activities. He’s preparing to funnel sensitive information, possibly even assets, to rival Bratvas. It’s a classic information leak, masked as a legitimate sale.”
My jaw tightened. It was worse than I thought. A leak, not just money laundering, but a direct betrayal of intelligence, a weakening of our position. “So, he plans to sell us out, piece by piece.”
“Precisely,” Matvey confirmed, his expression one of disbelief. “And there’s more. We discovered that his family’s offshore account, which was believed to be dormant, was emptied entirely over a decade ago. The funds, a significantsum, were laundered through a series of ghost corporations before being touted back to an account directly controlled by Feliks himself. He now has access to a massive amount of liquid capital. Enough to disappear, if he chose it.”
Matvey’s words hit me like a physical blow. A direct siphon. Not just petty theft, but a calculated, large-scale operation to enrich himself at our expense. And the timing…it was likely before Katria’s father died. Before the treason accusation. Before everything.
“How could this be, Danil ?” Matvey asked, his voice raw with shock. “Feliks…he’s been a trusted soldier for decades. My father redirected him. Your father, they were close.” He shook his head, a look of profound betrayal on his face. “How could he do this?”
I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out the small, black thumb drive. I placed it on the desk between us, its smooth surface catching the office light. “Because he was never who we thought he was.”
I pushed the thumb drive across the polished wood, its small, dark form a stark contrast to the betrayal it represented. Matvey and Luka stared at it, at me, their faces etched with confusion.
“What is this, Danil ?” Matvey asked, his voice low with apprehension.
“Proof,” I stated, my gaze flicking between them. “Proof that Feliks is not who we thought he was. Proof that he’s been playing us all for fools.”
Luka picked up the drive, turning over his fingers. “What’s on it?”
“A recording,” I explained, leaning back, the memories of the video still fresh in my mind. “A meeting between Feliks and Katria’s father. Dates two weeks before her father’s death. In it,Katria’s father accuses Feliks directly. Says he’s laundering off-ledger money. Says it puts the entire Bratva at risk.”
Matvey’s eyes widened, a slow dawning of horror spreading across his face. “Impossible. Wolfe was a loyal soldier. He would never…he wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“He wasn’t lying,” I said, my voice cold. “And Feliks’s response? He told him tostop looking.The video cuts out amidst a loud argument.”
“So, Katria’s father was trying to expose him,” Luka murmured, his analytical mind already connecting the dots. “And Feliks framed him.
“It appears that way,” I confirmed. “And then he used my anger, my grief, to turn me against him. To make Katrina believe her father was a traitor. To makemebelieve it.” The bitter irony of it all haunted me. I had killed a man motivated by what I believed was justice, only to discover I had been a pawn in a much darker game.
Matvey slammed his hand on the desk, the sound echoing in the room. “The audacity! A trusted soldier for decades? My father practically raised him! How could he betray us like this? How could he betray your father?”
“Because trust is a weakness he exploits, Matvey,” I said, my voice firm. “He played the long game. Cultivated loyalty. Made himself indispensable—all while siphoning funds and planning to sell us out to the highest bidder.”
Luka’s face was solemn. “If he knows we’re onto him, Danil, he’ll act fast. He’ll try to disappear. That offshore account, the laundered money…he has the means to vanish within hours.”
“He won’t vanish,” I said, a dangerous calm in my voice. “Not yet. He still thinks he’s in control. He still thinks he’s one step ahead. And that’s his mistake.”
I left Matvey and Luka to continue their analysis, my mind already on the next phase of the plan. But for the first time in my life, my plan didn’t involve more force, more control, or more power. It involved honesty. A new, terrifying kind of power. I had to go to Katria. I had to tell her everything. I had to show her that I was not the villain in her story. The thought was a risk, a monumental gamble with a woman I was beginning to understand. But after everything, after anger and the raw, unbridled passion, I knew I had to. I owed her the truth.
I walked back to the suite, the journey feeling longer than usual. The anger I’d carried with me for months, the grief I’d buried, it all felt like dead weight now. I had been misplaced. It had been a lie. I had been a fool.
I opened the door of her suite, my heart a dull, heavy thud in my chest. She was awake. She was sitting up in bed, a blanket wrapped around her, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. She was a picture of vulnerability, and my possessive rage from before was gone, replaced by a quiet, fierce protectiveness.
She looked at me, a silent question in her eyes. I could see the hurt there, the anger from the brunch, the residue of our brutal intimacy.
I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, the mattress dipping under my weight. “Katria,” I said, my voice low and serious. “I need you to listen to me. No interruptions. No fighting. Just listen.”
