Chapter 37 – Isabella
ISABELLA
Ipaused at the threshold of the meeting room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Ivan’s fingers tightened around mine—not the gentle squeeze of reassurance but the firm grip of someone preparing himself for battle.
He stopped and looked at me, his body warm and solid beside me, his shoulders squared with a tension I could only feel because it was radiating through our connected hands.
He hadn’t let go of my hand since we’d left that cell as if something fundamental had shifted between us—something primal and unspoken, a bond forged in blood and justice.
He raised his eyebrow, let me see the protectiveness and assertiveness still simmering beneath the surface, and I squeezed him back. No matter what was waiting for us, I would not let go of his hand either.
He winked at me as if trying to lighten my mood before his face transformed back into an impassive mask that showed nothing. This man was handling his emotions like it was his damn profession.
Well, thinking about it, it probably was. But he’d executed my childhood tormentor just moments ago, was protecting me, and now was facing whatever consequences were waiting for him.
And you wouldn’t be able to tell.
In complete contrast, my own emotions churned like yesterday’s storm-tossed sea—relief that Marcus could never hurt anyone again, anxiety about what would happen next, and a fierce protectiveness toward Ivan that surprised me with its intensity.
My palms were slick with sweat, my mouth dry as paper, but I forced myself to stand tall beside him.
Whatever came next, we would face it together.
The comms center’s formal meeting room stretched before us like a battlefield. The overhead lights were unnecessarily bright, casting harsh shadows across the polished glass table that dominated the space.
I thought we would only face the Paraskia Council, but the gleaming surface was surrounded by—well, basically everyone.
My brothers Vince and Matt occupied one side, their expressions guarded and assessing.
Alex Falcone sat beside them, his dark eyes revealing nothing.
Jemma, Mira, and Fee huddled together near the window, their faces showing concern when they caught my gaze.
Hawk and Birdie stood with military precision near the corner, their postures suggesting they were prepared for anything. The contrast between Hawk’s imposing presence and Birdie’s deceptively delicate frame reminded me how appearances could be misleading in our world.
The Zotov siblings occupied one corner—Anton and Roman leaned against the wall while Nina stood in front and Mila was drumming her fingers against the windowsill. There was a nervous energy surrounding them even though their faces revealed nothing.
The other side of the table was occupied by what could only be the Paraskia Council.
And at the head of the table sat Director Kozlova, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun that looked almost painful, her tailored suit a shade of gray that matched the coldness in her eyes.
She didn’t move as we entered, but her gaze tracked us with the precision of a wolf on the hunt.
The conversations died the moment we entered.
Every head turned, every gaze locked on us with varying degrees of curiosity, judgment, and calculation.
The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.
The air felt thick with tension, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight, making each breath feel shallow and insufficient.
Ivan’s body shifted subtly, angling between me and the room. The movement was barely perceptible, but I felt it—his instinct to shield me even now. Something warm unfurled in my chest at the gesture.
This man would always shield me, would always put himself in the line of fire for me.
Director Kozlova’s lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. “So glad you could finally join us, Mr. Zotov. We were just discussing your unauthorized execution of Marcus Moretti.”
Ivan’s hand tightened around mine. Not in fear—Ivan Zotov didn’t do fear—but in resolve, or maybe just to reassure me.
My gaze flickered to Vince, who wasn’t looking at Ivan at all.
His focus was entirely on me, his brow furrowed with questions he hadn’t yet voiced.
What happened with Marcus? What did Ivan do?
And why? He glanced down at our interlaced fingers, then back up at me.
The weight of his stare made me straighten my spine. I’d deal with my brother later.
“I take full responsibility for my actions,” Ivan said, his voice carrying through the room without effort. The calm confidence in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
Director Kozlova didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“You executed a prisoner without authorization. You compromised ongoing intelligence operations. You’ve repeatedly disobeyed direct orders.
” Her voice rose with each accusation. “Your rogue behavior has contributed to this organization becoming corrupt and in shambles. Do you have any concept of the damage you’ve caused? ”
Ivan absorbed each verbal blow without flinching, without offering excuses. His face remained perfectly composed, his body language betraying nothing but calm acceptance of her fury. He was taking all of this for me. Without hesitation or regret.
My throat tightened with sudden emotion. I’d spent my life surrounded by powerful men—my father, my brothers, countless associates, and family members—but I’d never seen anyone willingly sacrifice everything that defined them for my sake. Not until Ivan.
“Marcus Moretti was a predator and a monster,” Ivan stated flatly.
“As if the Paraskia isn’t built on corruption, creating chaos, and manipulation on a global level.
Playing the moral-authority card now, after years of the organization looking the other way to whatever Grey and Marcus were doing, is pure hypocrisy. I eliminated him because it was right.”
Director Kozlova’s eyes narrowed. “Your job is not to decide what’s right, Zotov. Your job is to follow orders.”
“Not anymore.” Ivan’s voice remained steady. “I’m formally tendering my resignation from the Paraskia, effective immediately. Do what you have to do.”
The declaration landed like a bomb in the quiet room. I held my breath, half expecting security to rush in and restrain him. Instead, Anton moved across the room, his movement deliberate and unhurried.
“Where my brother goes, I go,” he stated, moving to stand beside Ivan.
My heart stuttered in my chest as Nina moved next, then Roman, then Mila. One by one, the Zotov siblings aligned themselves beside their brother, a unified front of deadly capability now standing opposed to the organization that had shaped them.
“You’re making a mistake,” Director Kozlova said, but her voice had lost its edge. For the first time, a flicker of insecurity crossed her face.
I couldn’t blame her. I should’ve asked Ivan more about her.
I knew Valeria Kozlova was the black widow of the Kozlov family, one of the leading Bratva families.
But didn’t Ivan mention she was newly assigned to the position?
She looked tough as nails, but I still knew way too little about what was actually going on with the whole Paraskia thing.
But from what I’d observed these last couple of days and from what I knew about the Zotovs, it was clear they weren’t just operatives.
They’d earned their reputation in the underworld, so if everything they’d done was actually for the Paraskia, it was safe to say they were probably the backbone of the Paraskia’s most effective operations.
Losing them probably meant a big loss of talent, training, and institutional knowledge for the organization.
I squeezed Ivan’s hand, feeling a surge of pride at his unwavering stance. This wasn’t just about defiance—this was a complete rejection of the system that had controlled him since childhood.
And he was doing it as much for himself as he was doing it for me.
The Paraskia leaders leaned together, whispered concerns passing between them as they recognized the tactical disaster unfolding.
I analyzed their reactions—the subtle tells of panic, the rapid calculations of loss.
They weren’t just losing operatives; they were potentially creating powerful enemies.
“As far as I see it, the Zotovs have served the Paraskia faithfully,” Vince’s voice cut through the murmurs, surprising me. “Whatever corruption and chaos you have in your organization, the Salvini family will only cooperate with a Paraskia that includes the Zotovs somehow.”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by my brother’s intervention. Vince’s gaze met mine briefly, something unreadable passing between us. Was he angry with me? Concerned? It was impossible to tell, but his support for Ivan was unmistakable—and unexpected.
“The Falcones and Morettis stand with the Salvinis on this,” Alex added, his voice carrying the weight of generations of power.
A silent glance passed between my brothers and Alex—a look loaded with meaning.
I suddenly realized that Marcus Moretti might have been related to Alex.
The understanding hit me like a slap: they weren’t just recognizing Ivan’s worth; they were protecting and standing by me.
Despite everything, my family was closing ranks around me.
Director Kozlova’s perfect posture became rigid as she assessed this unexpected alliance. Her eyes darted between the Zotovs and my family, the scales of power visibly shifting before her.
“Perhaps,” she said finally, her voice carefully modulated, “we can discuss a new arrangement. A partnership structure that would benefit all parties.” Her gaze settled on me. “However, we have one condition: we want Ms. Salvini, as well; she’s part of the deal.”
“Absolutely not,” Ivan said immediately, his voice hardening. “Isabella stays out of this. Nonnegotiable.”