Page 61 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. This wasn’t a game. Not anymore. “No, Katria. This isn’t a test. This is about protection. About safeguarding what’s rightfully ours.” I held the folder out, opening it slightly to reveal the first page. “These documents transfer the control of Sivella Holdings, and all its associated assets, into a trust that’s tied directly to you. It takes the money completely out of Feliks’s reach.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Out of his reach? Or into yours? What’s the difference?”
“The difference is who controls it,” I stated, my voice firm. “Feliks has been systematically draining funds, planning to liquidate everything and disappear. He’s trying to steal from the Bratva. From us. Your father tried to stop him.”
“And so now, you want me to sign away control of all that money to you?” she retorted, her voice rising slightly. “To protect the Bratva’s money? No need to protect me?”
“It protects both,” I insisted, taking a step closer. “If the money is in your name, legally tied to you as my wife, it becomes a protected asset. Feliks can’t touch it. Our enemies can’t touch it. It remains within the family, where it belongs. This is the only way to ensure it stays in the Bratva, and out of the hands of traitors.”
Her gaze was sharp, unwavering. “You’re saying this is for my safety?” She scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Or is it just a convenient way for you to ensure your assets are under my name without having to expose yourself directly? This sounds like it’s purely for the money, Danil. Not for me.”
Her accusation stung, cutting deeper than any physical blow. She saw my actions through the lens of her own pain, her own past. “It is for your safety, Katria,” I insisted, my voice hardening with frustration. “Do you think I would come to you with this, after everything, if it weren’t critical? If it wasn’t to protect what is ours? What’s now yours?”
“You’re a master manipulator,” she shot back. “You can make it only serve your purpose.”
“My purpose in this is intertwined with yours,” I argued. “Feliks tried to frame your father. This money and these assets are part of his scheme. By securing them, we not only cut off his resources but also ensure his final downfall. And in doing so, we ensure your safety. We clear your father’s name.”
I took another step, closing the distance between us. My voice dropped to a near whisper. “I need you to trust me, Katria.I need you to trust that this is necessary. That this is for you. Forus.”
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, trying to find any flicker of deception. The silence stretched, thick with her doubt. I could see the battle raging within her—the desire to believe me, to finally shed the weight of her father’s alleged betrayal, wearing with the deep-seated distrust that had become her shield.
“How can I trust you?” she finally asked, her voice raw, stripped of all pretenses. “Every time I think I understand you, you shift. You hurt me. You punish me. And you ask for my trust. This is about money, Danil. Don’t pretend it’s not. Don’t pretend it’s not about Bratva’s bottom line.”
“It is about the Bratva,” I conceded, my voice firm. “But the Bratva is safe, Katria. It is structured. It is protection. Without it, there is chaos. And in chaos, there is no safety for you. For anyone.” I took another step, reaching for the folder, my hand hovering. “This is a layer of protection for you, directly. It ties the assets to your name, not just mine. It makes you indispensable, yes, but it also makes you secure.”
She shook her head slowly, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I believe you.” She paused, then met my gaze, a fierce, unwavering resolve hardening her eyes. “But I’ll do it. I’ll sign.”
A wave of relief, so potent it almost buckled my knees, washed over me.
“But listen to me, Danil,” she continued, her voice gaining strength, each word a vow. “If you’re lying to me, if this is just another betrayal, I’ll never forgive you.Never. Do you understand? This is my leap of faith. Don’t you dare break it.”
My jaw tightened. The weight of her words settled heavily on my shoulders. This was not just a signature. It was acovenant. A promise I had to keep. “I understand,” I said, my voice rough with unspoken emotions. “I swear it.”
She seemed to deliberate for a second before speaking again. “Irene left an email address for me. She said I should be careful. Turns out the thumb drive didn’t get to me by accident.”
“An email address?”
“Yes. When I got into the inbox, there were just receipts. No name to track or anything. It must be a cover for something,” she revealed. “Thought you should know.”
“Thank you for telling me this, Katria. I’ll talk to my men about it. We might need the address.”
She nodded in acknowledgement.
I opened the folder and pushed it onto the table between us. I offered her my own. She took it, her hand steady, even as a fresh tear tracked down her face. Her eyes, filled with a mix of defiance and desperate hope, were fixed on mine as she signed the documents. Her name, Katria Yezhov, appeared in an elegant script on the sitter line.
The air in the room crackled with unspoken tension. The papers were signed. The deal was done. The trust, fragile as it was, had been given. I had to ensure it was not misplaced.
***
The morning light felt sharper, the air colder. My mind was already a whirlwind of strategies, of countermeasures against Feliks. Katria was still sleeping when I left, but the memory of her trust, her conditional surrender, fueled my resolve. I had a meeting across town, a necessary step in consolidating our position before I finally moved against the traitor.
My driver, Igor, was waiting by the armored car. The city traffic was already a sluggish beast, even at this early hour. I settled into the back seat, pulling out my tablet to review the latest intel. Luka’s warnings about Feliks’s potential desperationechoed in my mind. He was right. Feliks was a cornered rat. And cornered rats were dangerous.
The city traffic crawled, a symphony of horns and frustrated murmurs. I barely registered it, my focus on the tablet in my hands, as I dissected financial reports.
Then, the world shattered. A deafening crash erupted, metal screaming against metal. The car lurched violently, glass exploding inward from the driver’s side window. Igor yelled something, a guttural shout swallowed by the sudden chaos. The vehicle skidded, tires squealing in protest.
I inactively dropped the tablet and grabbed the overhead handle, my body bracing for impact. Another crash, the sickening crunch of crumpling steel. We’d been rammed.
