Page 68 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
“You’d better be back here in one piece, then,” I conceded.
Chapter 24 – Danil
The drive back to the estate felt never-ending. Every second dragged on, thick and suffocating, like smoke I couldn’t clear from my lungs. My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. My thoughts kept circling Katria.
I had left her at the safe house—a fortress of my own design, buried behind walls of steel and men I trusted with my life. It was the only move left for me. I couldn’t gamble with her safety, not on a hunch, not on strategy. My purpose had narrowed into a single burning point:Keep her alive. Whatever it costs. Whatever it takes.
Feliks would not touch her again. Not while I was still breathing. By the time the gate of the main estate lines up, rain had stopped, but the air still carried the call of it, damp and heavy, like the earth itself was holding its breath. The mansion looked like a mausoleum. Too slim. Too quiet, waiting.
Men stood everywhere—by the doors, the windows, the halls. Inside and out, every corner was covered. If Feliks thought he could slip past, he was already a dead man.
I stepped inside. Luka and Konstantin were waiting in the main hall, arms crossed. Luka’s sharp eyes met mine. “Danil,” he said, voice flat, but there was a question hidden inside it.
“He’s not getting in,” I said. My tone left no room for argument. “This meeting—it’s a diversion. He won’t face me. Not directly.”
Konstantin’s hand curled around the hilt of his weapon. “Then what’s the move?”
“We wait,” I said. My words echoed in the hall, heavier than stone. “We wait for him to show his hand. If he comes here, he dies here.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Luka asked. His eyes flickered toward the double doors, the silence behind them. “If he’s just trying to make us dance?”
I smiled without warmth, all teeth and ice. “Then we let him think he’s won. When he’s comfortable, when he thinks we’re broken—then we strike. He thinks he’s clever. He thinks he holds the cards. But I’ve got the papers. I’ve got the leverage. He’s doing a dead hand.”
A sudden knock at the door caused three of us to react instantly.
Not a loud pounding. Not an arrogant hammer of a man demanding entrance. Just a quiet, tentative knock.
My hand went to the gun at my hip, and Luka and Konstantin moved in unison, weapons raised.
The heavy door swung open.
A single figure stood framed in the archway, dark hair plastered with rain.
“Irene,” Konstantin spat, venom lacing his tone. His body shifted instinctively, stepping between her and me. “I’ll handle her, Danil. She doesn’t belong here.”
“Wait,” my voice cut the air, soft but sharp as glass.
I studied her face. No fear there. Just exhaustion. The kind that lived deep in the bones, carved by years of running. She wasn’t here to fight. She was here because she had no other move left.
“Let her in,” I said. My gaze didn’t leave hers. “I have questions.”
She walked past Konstantin without flinching, her gaze locked on mine. Her steps carried no hesitation.
Before I could speak, she pulled a small bundle from her jacket—papers, flash drives, devices—and set them on the long oak table. The sound echoed in the hall.
“I have a flash drive,” she said, her voice steady. She pointed. “Two ledgers. An encrypted recording.” Her eyes met mine with a silent challenge. “You don’t need to interrogate me, Danil. I’ll give you everything.”
She took a breath and began to speak. Words poured from her like water breaking through a dam.
“The flash drive holds encrypted emails. Feliks and foreign brokers. The ledgers—Sivella Holdings. Every transaction, every dirty deal, every dollar that passed through his hands. But you were wrong about one thing.”
My jaw tightened. “What?”
“He didn’t need the money,” Irene said. Her eyes flicked to the papers. “He already siphoned off most of it. Sivella Holdings was compromised beyond saving. The only way he could cover it was through a legaltransfer.Public. Clean. On paper.”
She slid one of the ledgers toward me. My fingers clenched against it.
“These”—she turned the page—“are promotion orders. First for Katria’s father. Then for Katria. Feliks used her signature, Danil. He made it look legitimate. A clean transfer of power, a failing company handed down. But it was never about saving it.”
