Chapter 25 #2
“Public means witnesses,” Sofia says, standing by her husband’s side. “Harder to disappear people.”
“Unless they have warrants ready.” Iris touches her bandaged shoulder. “Federal jurisdiction. They could arrest us the moment we walk in.”
“Not if we control the narrative first.” I open a new window and start typing. “We leak portions of the Nightshade files, but only strategic pieces. We leak enough to make journalists ask questions and ensure the story is too big to bury.”
Nikolai’s eyes narrow, seeing the play immediately. “Insurance.”
“Exactly.” My fingers move across the keyboard. “Three major outlets. Encrypted packages. Time-delayed release unless we cancel the upload after the meeting—we will give them that chance.”
“How long?” Dmitri moves closer to watch my screen.
“Six hours after the meeting.” I finish the code. “Plenty of time if negotiations go well. Not enough time for them to stop it if things go south.”
Iris’s hand finds mine, squeezing tight. “They’ll know what we’re doing.”
“Good.” I squeeze back. “Let them sweat.”
The room falls silent except for my typing.
Sofia tilts her head. “So, what do we do in the meantime?”
I close the laptop and look at the faces surrounding me. My brothers. Sofia. Iris. Tash and Katarina. My family, and the people I’d burn the world down for. The people I’d already started burning it down for.
“We eat,” I say. “And we make sure Maya’s okay. We give ourselves eighteen hours to be human before we walk into the lion’s den.”
Nikolai raises an eyebrow. “That’s your plan?”
“Best one I’ve got.” I stand, helping Iris to her feet. “We’ve got eighteen hours until anyone can do anything. Might as well not waste them sober.”
“Finally.” Dmitri heads for the door. “A suggestion I can get behind.”
Erik grunts his agreement.
The compound’s dining room could seat thirty. We claim one end of the massive table.
Dmitri raids the wine cellar, bringing four bottles that probably cost more than most people’s cars.
“Starting strong.” Tash accepts a glass. “I like it.”
“We’re either celebrating survival or our last meal.” Dmitri pours with a heavy hand. “Either way, might as well drink the good stuff.”
Erik’s already in the kitchen, and he returns a few minutes later with containers from the commercial fridge. “Someone ordered Italian earlier this week.”
“That was me.” Katarina takes the heated-up lasagna from him. “Before everything went to hell.”
“Seems like a lifetime ago.” Sofia accepts wine from Nikolai. “When was that? Tuesday?”
“Wednesday.” Nikolai’s hand finds her waist. “You wore that blue dress.”
“You remember what I wore?”
“I remember everything about you.”
I make a gagging sound. “Please. I just survived a federal raid. Don’t make me lose my appetite.”
Maya enters, and Iris immediately goes toward her. “How are you holding up?” She asks.
“I’m... okay. I think. Everything’s surreal.”
“You did really well back there,” Iris states, her voice gentle. “In the warehouse. You stayed calm and followed instructions. That’s not nothing.”
“I was terrified.”
“That’s allowed,” I say, pouring Maya some wine. “You’re allowed to be scared. But you’re safe now. The guards here know what they’re doing. This place is secure.”
She takes the wine, holding it like it might anchor her to reality.
I notice Iris wince as she moves her shoulder too quickly and places a hand on her back. “Careful to avoid sudden movements.”
“Says the man who dragged me through a firefight.”
“If I hadn’t, you’d still be a captive of the feds.”
“Maybe I would have escaped.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I was rescuing you, and at least you’re alive.”
Dmitri sets plates down with more force than necessary. “Can we establish a no-talk-about-shooting rule for dinner? Just this once?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Tash steals a breadstick from his plate. “You Ivanovs are all about gun fights.”
“Only when necessary.” Nikolai cuts into the lasagna. “Which seems to be often lately.”
Erik loads his plate. “Better than boring.”
“Boring sounds nice right now.” Katarina leans against him. “Maybe try boring for a change?”
“Boring doesn’t suit us.” I raise my glass. “To surviving government conspiracies and federal raids.”
“And terrible life choices.” Iris clinks her glass against mine.
“Hey.” I feign offense. “I’m an excellent life choice.”
“You hunted me down and threatened me.”
“Details.”
“Broke into my systems.”
“You started it, detka. And I see it as foreplay.”
Sofia chokes on her wine. “Oh my god.”
Dmitri grins. “He’s not wrong, though.”
Tash points her fork at him. “Don’t even start. You literally bought your way into my museum to corner me.”
“That’s different.” Dmitri doesn’t even look embarrassed. “That was strategic.”
“That was stalking.” But Tash is smiling.
The conversation flows. Wine disappears. Laughter fills the spaces between words.
I watch my brothers with their women. Maya sits at the table quietly, nursing her wine, but seems content to observe rather than participate. There’s something different about her—a weight she’s carrying that goes beyond the trauma of the warehouse.
As the meal winds down and people begin to disperse, Maya finally speaks up. “Iris, can we talk? Privately?”
Iris stands immediately, following Maya into the adjoining sitting room. I pretend to focus on my laptop, but I’m acutely aware of their conversation—the low murmur of voices, the long silences, and then Iris’s voice cracking slightly as she speaks.
They return together twenty minutes later. Iris’s eyes are red-rimmed, though she’s clearly tries to hide it. Maya looks lighter somehow, despite the sadness etched across her features. She squeezes Iris’s shoulder before retreating to her room.
Iris slides back into the seat beside me, her hand immediately seeking mine. I don’t ask questions—just lace my fingers through hers and hold tight.
Later, when we’re alone, she’ll tell me. Maya’s taking the job in Seattle. She needs a fresh start, needs distance from the danger, needs to reclaim her life. Iris understands, even though it breaks her heart.
But for now, we sit in the aftermath of dinner as my brothers and their women filter out to their respective corners of the compound.
Tomorrow we will walk into a federal building and sit across from the people who murdered Iris’s parents.
My fingers tighten around the wine glass.
“You okay?” Iris’s voice, low. Just for me.
“Fine.”
“Liar.”
I meet her eyes. Blue like ice. Like the moment before a system crashes.
“Tomorrow—”
“We’ll handle it.” She touches my hand under the table. “We always do.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe that brilliant minds and careful planning will be enough.
But Morrison had backup. Resources. The full weight of the federal government is behind him.
We have wine and bravado.
And now we know that Iris is losing one of the few people who grounded her outside of me and my family.
Nikolai catches my eye across the table. Raises his glass slightly.
A silent message. We’ve got your back.
Dmitri’s already planning contingencies. I can see it in the way his eyes track the exits. The way he positions himself between Tash and the door.
Erik’s counting threats. Mapping escape routes. His training never switches off.
We’re Ivanovs. We’ve survived worse.
Except we haven’t. Not really.
This isn’t rival families, business disputes, or territory wars.
Coming up against the government is entirely new for us.
“Stop.” Iris squeezes my hand. “I can hear you spiraling from here.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She leans closer. “We have the leverage. They need our silence as much as we need their cooperation.”
She’s right. Logically, tactically, strategically right.
But logic doesn’t account for the cold knot in my stomach. The certainty that tomorrow could go wrong in a thousand different ways.
I drain my wine and reach for the bottle to pour myself another glass.
“To tomorrow.” The words taste like ash.
“To surviving.” Iris clinks her glass against mine. “Together.”
Together.
Yeah.
We’ll come out on top. We have to.
The alternative is too hard to consider.