Chapter Twenty-Eight - Aleksandr
Two weeks after Elena’s integration into operations, I order comprehensive background checks on everyone with access to sensitive intelligence. Standard protocol after an abduction: verify loyalty, close vulnerabilities, ensure the organization is airtight.
Viktor brings me the preliminary findings late on a Thursday. His expression is carefully neutral, which immediately puts me on alert.
“Problem?” I ask.
“Anomaly.” He sets down a tablet. “Financial trail that doesn’t make sense. Communications intercepts that raise questions.”
I scan the data. At first, it looks like noise—normal operational chatter, routine transactions. Then I see the pattern.
Small deposits. Always just under reporting thresholds. Routed through accounts tied to shell companies that trace back to… Petrov operations.
The name that keeps appearing makes my blood run cold.
Sergei.
“This can’t be right,” I say. “Sergei’s been with us for eight years. He’s bled for this organization. Took a bullet in Prague, lost two fingers in the Moscow territorial war. He’s loyal.”
“I thought so too.” Viktor pulls up more data. “The pattern goes back years. Before your father died. Before you took over. Dead drops. Coded communications. Money moving in both directions.”
I force myself to look at the evidence objectively. Strip away personal bias, years of trust, the bond forged in violence.
The picture that emerges is devastating.
Sergei was never turned. He was planted. A Petrov operative embedded during my father’s purge of suspected traitors, positioned perfectly to earn trust by surviving, bleeding, proving loyalty through endurance rather than treachery.
“How deep does this go?” I ask.
“Deep enough that he has access to security protocols, meeting schedules, operational details.” Viktor’s jaw tightens. “Deep enough that he could have facilitated Elena’s abduction. Could have told Artyom exactly when and where to intercept her.”
Rage hits fast and cold. “Verify it. Every transaction, every communication, every connection. I want absolute certainty before we move.”
“Already in progress.” Viktor hesitates. “Sir, if he realizes we’re investigating—”
“Then we move faster.”
***
The complete picture takes forty-eight hours to assemble.
Sergei isn’t just a planted operative. He’s the lynchpin of a long-game strategy. The Petrovs embedded him years ago, betting on chaos, betting on internal fractures they could exploit.
I handed them the perfect opportunity when I started consolidating power, eliminating rivals, stabilizing Sharov authority.
Until Elena.
The pattern shifts three months ago—right when Elena entered my life permanently. Sergei’s communications intensify. His reports to Petrov contacts become more frequent, more detailed.
Elena represents stability. A legitimate heir, a partnership that strengthens rather than fractures, an anchor that roots me instead of making me vulnerable.
Everything the Petrovs were counting on me not having.
“He’s planning something,” Viktor says, pointing to encrypted messages we managed to crack. “References to ‘final window’ and ‘decapitation strategy.’ He thinks this is his last chance before the heir is born and your position becomes unassailable.”
“When?”
“The alliance meeting. Next week. He’s been positioning himself to handle security, adjust routes, ensure backup is delayed.” Viktor meets my eyes. “He’s going to try to kill you in front of witnesses. Make it look like rival factions, fracture the organization in the chaos.”
“Elena?”
“Collateral damage. Or maybe the primary target. Either way, losing you both would destabilize everything.”
I stare at the evidence. Years of trust revealed as methodical deception. A man I considered loyal—one of my best—rotting the organization from within.
The betrayal cuts deeper than it should. I should be used to this. Should expect treachery as standard operating procedure.
Sergei bled beside me. Stood guard at my back during negotiations. Helped protect Elena after the abduction.
All while planning to destroy us.
“We don’t cancel the meeting,” I say.
Viktor’s eyes widen. “Sir—”
“We don’t cancel. We let him make his move. But we’re ready for it.”
“That’s incredibly risky—”
“It’s the only way to draw out any other infiltrators.
If we move on Sergei now, we might miss co-conspirators.
If we let the plan unfold under controlled conditions, we identify everyone involved.
” I lean back. “Double security without Sergei’s knowledge.
Route changes he isn’t informed about. Backup that arrives on our timeline, not his. ”
“And Mrs. Sharov?”
“Doesn’t attend. She’ll be secured off-site under guard we’ve personally vetted.” I make the decision quickly, knowing Elena will hate it. “I won’t use her as bait.”
“Understood.”
***
Convincing Elena to stay away from the alliance meeting is harder than expected.
“You’re sidelining me,” she says flatly when I explain. “After two weeks of involving me, you’re suddenly deciding I’m too fragile for important meetings?”
“I’m deciding you’re too valuable to risk.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.” I pull her close, hands settling on her waist. “There’s a credible security threat. Until it’s neutralized, you stay somewhere safe.”
“A security threat you’re not elaborating on.”
“The fewer people who know the details, the better.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re using yourself as bait.”
I don’t deny it. “If I am, that’s my decision.”
“Don’t I get a say? I’m part of this organization now. You said so yourself.”
“You’re also pregnant with my child. That supersedes operational involvement.”
“Don’t.” She shoves at my chest. “Don’t use the pregnancy as an excuse to shut me out when things get dangerous. That’s exactly what you said you wouldn’t do.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. The thought of her anywhere near Sergei’s planned attack makes my blood run cold.
“I need you safe,” I say quietly. “I can’t function if I’m worried about you getting caught in crossfire. So please. This once. Let me protect you by keeping you away.”
Something in my tone makes her pause. She studies my face, reading the fear I’m not quite hiding.
“This is serious,” she says. “More serious than you’re saying.”
“Yes.”
“You think you’ll be safer if I’m not there to worry about.”
“I know I will be.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then, reluctantly: “Fine, but you tell me everything afterward. No sanitized version. I want the truth.”
“Deal.”
***
The alliance meeting happens in a secured conference facility we use for high-stakes negotiations.
Twelve family representatives. Security details for each. The kind of gathering where everyone is armed but maintains the fiction of civility.
Sergei arrives early to coordinate. I watch him from surveillance feeds, noting how he subtly adjusts guard positions, how he ensures certain routes stay clear.
Setting up the kill zone without realizing we know.
Viktor’s counter-team is in place. Ready to move the moment shooting starts.
The meeting proceeds normally for the first thirty minutes. Discussion of territory boundaries, revenue splits, operational disputes that need mediation.
Then I feel it. The shift in atmosphere that comes before violence.
Sergei’s hand moves to his earpiece. A signal.
The doors burst open. Not one entry point—three simultaneously. Armed men in tactical gear, weapons raised, targeting me specifically.
I move on instinct. Don’t think, just react.
Drop and roll as the first shots crack past where my head was. Come up behind the table, using it for cover while my own security returns fire.
Chaos erupts. Family representatives diving for cover, security details engaging threats, the controlled meeting dissolving into gunfight.
Through the confusion, I see Sergei. Not engaging the attackers. Not protecting me.
Drawing his own weapon. Aiming at me while I’m focused elsewhere.
I see it happen in slow motion. His finger tightening on the trigger. The angle that will catch me exposed.
Then Elena is there.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Was supposed to be secured off-site. But she’s rushing through the side entrance, face white with terror, screaming my name.
“Aleksandr, down!”
I drop instinctively at her voice. Sergei’s shot goes wide. But the distraction costs me—one of the breach team has a clear angle, fires three rounds that punch into my chest before Viktor’s team takes him down.
The impact throws me backward. Kevlar catches two rounds but the third finds the gap under my arm. Pain explodes, hot and sharp.
I hit the floor hard, vision swimming. Sounds becoming muffled and distant.
Through the haze, I see Elena. On her knees beside me despite the ongoing gunfire, hands pressing to my side where blood is spreading, screaming orders at my men in a voice that carries absolute authority.
“Get medical here now! Someone secure Sergei; don’t kill him, I want him alive! Viktor, lock down the building!”
The men obey without question.
I try to tell her to get down, to protect herself and the baby, but words won’t come. Just blood in my mouth and her face above me, pale and terrified and furious.
“Don’t you dare,” she’s saying, hands pressing harder on the wound. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me. You promised—you promised you’d protect us—so stay alive—”
Then darkness takes me.
***
I wake to beeping machines and chemical-clean air.
Hospital. Private facility. Pain radiating from my left side despite whatever drugs they’ve pumped into me.
I see Elena, asleep in a chair pulled close to the bed, curled into an awkward position that can’t be comfortable. One hand rests protectively over the swell of her belly. The other grips my fingers like she’s afraid I’ll slip away if she lets go.
I try to squeeze back. The movement is weak, but it’s enough.
Her eyes fly open. “Aleksandr.”
“I’m here.” My voice is rough, barely audible. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You got shot. You almost died.” Tears stream down her face, no attempt to hide them. “The bullet missed your lung by centimeters. You lost so much blood—”
“I’m alive.”
“Because of Kevlar and luck and—” She’s shaking now. “Because you wouldn’t fucking die, even though you tried your best.”
Despite the pain, I almost smile. “You weren’t supposed to be there.”
“I know. I ignored orders. I had a feeling something was wrong, so I came anyway.” She grips my hand tighter. “You came to rescue me. Put yourself in danger, not knowing what could happen.”[16]
“Of course I did.”
“You could have died!” Her composure shatters completely. Tears, anger, fear all crashing out at once. “You could have died protecting me and left me alone and I can’t—I can’t do this without you—”
“Elena, we’re fine.”
“No, listen. I need you to hear this.” She leans closer, voice dropping to fierce whisper. “I can’t be without you. I tried to convince myself I could. That this was just survival or Stockholm syndrome or pregnancy hormones. It’s not. It’s real. You’re—” Her voice breaks. “You’re everything.”
I pull her close despite the pain it causes. Let her cry into my shoulder while I hold her with my good arm.
“I can’t be without you either,” I admit. “That’s why I stepped in front of you. Why I’ll always step in front of you. Losing you would destroy me more completely than any bullet could.”
She pulls back enough to look at me. “That’s insane. We’re insane.”
“Probably.”
“This whole thing is toxic and possessive and definitely not healthy.”
“I know.”
“I love you anyway.” The words come out choked, reluctant, undeniable. “God help me, I love you.”
The confession hits harder than the bullet did. She loves me. Despite everything—the force, the lies, the manipulation—she loves me.
“I love you too,” I tell her. “So much it terrifies me. So much I’d take a hundred bullets before I’d let one touch you.”
“Don’t.” She presses her hand to my face. “Don’t ever do that again. I need you alive. Our child needs you alive.”
“Then I’ll stay alive.” I turn my head to kiss her palm. “For you. For our child. For us.”
We stay like that for long minutes. Her crying quietly, me holding her, both of us acknowledging what we’ve been dancing around for months.
Finally, she pulls back and wipes her eyes. “They caught Sergei. Viktor has him secured. He’s waiting for your orders.”
The mention of Sergei brings everything crashing back. The betrayal. The planted operative. Years of deception.
“Tell Viktor to bring him to a secure location. I want him alive long enough to extract information about any other Petrov infiltrators.” I shift despite the pain. “And then I want his death to be public. A message.”
“What message?”
“That Sharov Bratva will never tolerate threats from within. Especially threats aimed at its king or queen.”
Elena’s breath catches. “Queen?”
“That’s what they’re calling you. After the attack.” I watch her face. “You seized command in the middle of chaos. Gave orders to senior men who obeyed without question. They didn’t see Sharov’s protected wife. They saw his equal.”
“I needed to save you. I wasn’t thinking about authority.”
“You acted on instinct, and your instinct was to lead.” I squeeze her hand. “Sergei was wrong. He thought you made me weak. That the pregnancy would destabilize leadership. You don’t weaken me, Elena. You root me. Make me stronger because I have something worth protecting beyond power.”
“I’m scared,” she admits. “Of how much I need you. Of how completely I’ve let you in.”
A nurse enters, sees Elena draped across my bed, and clears her throat. “Mrs. Sharov, you should rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m fine here.”
“The baby needs rest as much as you do.”
“Is fine. I’m fine. I’m not leaving.” She says it with such finality the nurse retreats without arguing.
When we’re alone again, I pull her closer. “Stay with me.”
“Always,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”