Chapter Seven
The Volkov estate looked like a war zone. By the time Dimitri, Sofia, and a heavily armed security team reached the surveillance room, the immediate threat had been eliminated.
Bodies had already been removed from the main hallways. Blood remained in dark stains across the marble floors. Men moved through the estate with grim efficiency, collecting shell casings, reviewing security logs, and interrogating the few surviving attackers.
Nobody was sleeping tonight. Alexei stood at the head of the surveillance table, his expression carved from stone. Several monitors displayed security footage from around the estate. The atmosphere in the room felt chilly, and no one spoke for several moments.
Dimitri took a seat beside Sofia without consciously deciding to. She noticed, her gaze drifting momentarily to him, before focusing on the footage. Neither commented on it. One of Alexei’s captains finally stepped forward.
“We identified three of the dead.”
Photographs appeared on the screen. Dimitri immediately recognized two faces.
“Orlov,” Dimitri said in disgust.
Alexei nodded. “Sergei Orlov’s men.”
That got everyone’s attention. Sofia leaned forward slightly.
“The Orlov organization operates primarily through arms trafficking, doesn’t it?” Sofia asked.
The captain nodded. “Arms. Smuggling. Extortion. Mostly eastern territories,” the captain explained for her benefit.
Dimitri tightened his jaw. The Orlov family had spent years trying to expand into Volkov territory.
There had been disputes, veiled threats, and the occasional body left behind as a warning when negotiations failed.
Tension between the two organizations wasn’t new.
If anything, Dimitri had been expecting a serious move from them sooner or later.
Honestly, he wasn’t surprised to see their name attached to the attack. For years, he’d considered the Orlovs opportunistic scavengers. They were dangerous enough when they outnumbered someone, but ultimately lacked the backbone required to challenge the Volkovs directly.
Alexei and Maksim shared that opinion. More than once, the brothers had discussed the possibility of Sergei Orlov eventually making a play for their territory. None of them had believed the man would be reckless enough to strike at the Volkov estate itself, not in their own home.
The thought sent a fresh surge of anger through Dimitri. Rage burned hot beneath his skin as he stared at the security footage. Men had breached their perimeter. Gunfire had erupted inside halls he had walked since childhood. One of those assassins had made it all the way to his bedroom.
If Sofia hadn’t opened that door when she did, he might not be standing here now. His expression remained calm, but he curled his hands into fists at his sides.
Someone had crossed a line tonight. Whether it was the Orlovs or someone trying very hard to make it look like the Orlovs, Dimitri intended to find out exactly who was responsible.
When he did, there would be consequences.
“Could it be someone trying to implicate the Orlov Bratva?” Alexei mused out loud, voicing the same doubts Dimitri harbored.
Another image appeared on the screen. A dead man lying beside the estate wall.
“Zoom in,” Dimitri ordered. The captain did as he asked. Alexei and Dimitri studied it for several moments before Alexei swore under his breath.
“It’s definitely Orlov,” Dimitri said. The captain nodded.
One of their men entered the room.
“We found tattoos on three of the bodies. Known associates. They’ve worked for Sergei Orlov for years,” the guy reported.
So it really was them. They’d always been ambitious. Always looking for weakness. Still, attacking the Volkov estate was a level of recklessness Dimitri hadn’t expected.
Alexei folded his arms. “The question isn’t who.”
“It’s why,” Dimitri said.
The room fell silent. Nobody had an immediate answer.
“When my father first began discussing marriage alliances, the Orlovs were considered,” Sofia finally spoke.
Several heads turned toward her.
Dimitri looked at her sharply. Sofia remained calm beneath the sudden attention.
“One of Sergei Orlov’s sons,” she continued. “Nothing formal. Just discussions.”
Alexei’s expression darkened. “What happened?”
“My father changed his mind,” Sofia said.
Dimitri already knew the answer. The alliance with the Volkovs offered far more than the Orlovs ever could. Sofia met his gaze briefly.
“My uncle said Sergei Orlov wasn’t happy about it,” Sofia said.
Alexei barked out a humorless laugh. “No. I imagine he wasn’t.”
The pieces began fitting together. Sergei Orlov had likely spent months believing he had a chance to secure an alliance with the Marino family through Sofia. Then the Volkovs stepped in and took the prize right out from under him.
Pride alone could make men stupid. Power made them worse.
“He lost the alliance,” Dimitri said quietly. “Then watched two stronger organizations unite.”
Sofia nodded. “From his perspective, the marriage shifted the balance.”
“It did,” Alexei agreed.
The room grew thoughtful. The simple explanation made sense. Sergei Orlov wasn’t trying to start a war. Perhaps he was trying to prevent himself from becoming irrelevant. A desperate man with a shrinking sphere of influence was often the most dangerous kind.
Alexei leaned forward and braced his hands against the table. “Then he’s panicking.”
“And panicking men make mistakes,” Dimitri said.
A grim smile crossed Alexei’s face. “Tonight was a very expensive mistake.”
Nobody disagreed. The attack had failed. The alliance remained intact, and Sergei Orlov had just declared himself an enemy openly enough that even his usual excuses wouldn’t save him. Alexei’s gaze shifted between Dimitri and Sofia.
“They came after both of you tonight,” Alexei remarked.
The room quieted.
“Which means this marriage is working exactly the way we intended,” Alexei said.
Sofia’s expression remained unreadable. Dimitri felt something harden inside him. The attack hadn’t weakened the alliance. It had strengthened it, because the moment the gunfire started, Sofia hadn’t run. She’d come looking for him. When she’d found him, she’d pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Alexei straightened. “Double security. Increase patrols. I want every entrance monitored,” Alexei ordered.
The captains nodded.
Orders were issued, and plans were made. For the first time that night, Dimitri felt certain they understood exactly who had tried to kill them. Sergei Orlov had taken his shot. Now he would have to live with the consequences.
****
The estate slowly returned to a tense version of normal.
As they exited the surveillance room, Dimitri glanced toward Sofia.
She looked exhausted. Her dark hair was slightly disheveled from the night’s events.
There was gunpowder residue on one sleeve, and yet she still looked composed. Still Sofia.
“I’ll walk you back,” Dimitri said, and his tone brooked no argument.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I know where my room is,” she said.
“I wasn’t asking.” The response came automatically.
Sofia merely rolled her eyes. Somehow the gesture felt familiar now, comforting, even.
“Fine,” she muttered.
They walked through the house together. Most of the lights had been dimmed. The chaos was largely contained, and only scattered guards remained visible in the corridors. For the first time all night, comfortable silence settled between them.
Eventually Sofia spoke. “You almost died.”
Dimitri glanced at her. His wife was direct as always.
“Almost,” he said. “That’s the important part.”
“You sound remarkably calm about it.”
“I’ve almost died before,” he told her.
She didn’t look impressed.
“That isn’t reassuring,” she said.
Unexpected warmth stirred in his chest. The fact that she sounded annoyed instead of indifferent felt strangely significant. Neither spoke again until they reached the private wing. The hallway stood empty.
The tension from earlier returned slowly, but it was different now. No longer fueled by suspicion, but something far more dangerous. Adrenaline still hummed in his veins. Dimitri doubted he’d get any sleep tonight.
They stopped outside her door, and for a moment neither moved. The estate suddenly felt very quiet. Sofia looked up at him. Her gaze lingered there on his neck. Dimitri noticed the bruise forming around his throat had darkened.
“You should let someone look at that,” she pointed out.
“At what?” Dimitri asked, feigning ignorance.
She pointed toward his neck. “The fact that you were nearly strangled.”
“You seem concerned,” he couldn’t help but point out.
“I’m concerned about appearances,” Sofia said far too quickly.
“Liar.”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Sofia stared. Then, surprisingly, laughed softly.
The sound hit him harder than it should have.
Neither looked away. The air shifted. Dimitri became aware of how close they were standing.
How easily he could reach out, and the little distance that remained between them.
Sofia seemed to realize it too. Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, then returned to his eyes. It was a dangerous mistake for both of them. The hallway felt smaller. Dimitri stepped closer slightly, just enough to test her and see if she’d retreat, but she didn’t.
That was all the encouragement he needed. Dimitri lifted his hand and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. It was such a simple gesture, but the effect wasn’t. Sofia’s breath caught, and his pulse immediately accelerated.
The realization that she affected him this strongly should have been alarming, but instead it felt inevitable.
They had been circling each other for weeks, testing, challenging and watching each other like wolves.
Tonight something had changed, because she’d saved his life, and he’d stopped seeing her as an obligation.