Chapter 4 —Lev
Sirens wailed in the distance as I stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass window with both hands in my pockets. The city sprawled beneath me like a chessboard that only I commanded, lights glittering in the dark, sharp and dangerous.
The harsh scent of vodka drifted through the air, blending with the smell of aged paper. My laptop sat open on my desk behind, my table stashed with paperwork that I had yet to attend to.
My mind was reeling from the recent development that had somehow affected my operations within the city. A storm was coming; I could sense it, and as insignificant as this problem was, it could escalate if not handled properly.
Someone had found a loophole, a single loose thread in our operations, and they’d tugged at it. Nothing serious, but enough to cause damage. Now, I had the Feds on my tail, watching my every move because someone had tipped them off.
My allies in law enforcement were already on the case, working day and night to get the Feds off my back. According to my sources at the police station, someone had been anonymously sending proof of my illegal activities in the city.
Whoever they were, they knew I owned the cops, so they sent the same evidence to the Feds. Like a backup plan just in case the police shoved the case under the rug.
This anonymous attacker was going through a lot of trouble to get the Feds involved. Perhaps they thought a federal investigation was the first step in pulling me down. Nativity at its peak.
There was no point guessing who this anonymous enemy was. I knew without a shred of doubt that it was Viktor’s ex-girlfriend—the smart, brave girl—Ravyn Jensen.
It was her. She was the one tipping the Feds.
Ravyn probably figured that the Bratva was responsible for her father’s downfall. She likely connected the dots and traced everything back to me. This little stunt with the Feds was just a weak attempt at revenge. Cute.
She should’ve just stayed the fuck away and accepted the consequences of her actions. Instead, she chose to wage war against me—she decided to fight a losing battle. Interesting how she thought I wouldn’t figure out that she was the one behind this.
My lips curved into something between a faint grin and a snarl. The girl’s got some nerves. Clearly, she was braver than I gave her credit for.
I heard my phone buzz on the table behind me, and a quick glance at the screen revealed who the caller was. Marko from the Compliance Division.
I picked up the phone.
“Boss,” he said on the other line. “I dug into the traffic you asked about.”
“And?”
“We found a burner phone tied to Robert Jensen’s daughter’s fashion design business. Multiple outgoing calls were made days before the incident with the Feds.”
My brows knitted together, but I said nothing.
He continued, “One of them pinged a corporate compliance investigator—internal watchdog. Not the FBI. But close enough to stink.”
I stared blankly into space, finger tapping the surface of the table.
“The girl’s fingerprints are all over this, Boss—dates, numbers, the whole chain—it all leads back to her. If you want, I’ll forward it encrypted.”
“Yes. Do that.” I lifted the glass of vodka and gave it a little swirl. “Send me everything.”
“On it,” he replied, then paused. “Listen, I don’t wanna overstep, but I think you should take care of the girl. She might not look like trouble, but she went through a lot to get the Feds’ attention.”
Another pause.
“All I’m saying is, do not underestimate this girl—she’s tougher and more stubborn than you think.”
“I pay you for information, Markov. Stick to it,” I said, my voice cold as ice.
Before he could apologize, I ended the call.
Markov was right; the girl might be tougher than I thought. She’d begun a shadow war, and I intended to finish it—to show her how big a mistake coming after me was.
My lips twisted into a crooked smirk. This should be fun.
First things first, I’d strip her of her defenses and peel away her resources one by one.
I could just as easily confront her and teach her a lesson she’d never forget.
But no, that would be too easy. Besides, she wanted to play games, and I was willing to indulge her.
All it would take to erode her reputation was for the wrong whispers to reach the right ears.
And then, just like that, she’d watch her life crumble right before her eyes.
She was fighting a losing battle without even realizing it. I’d done the math, and there was no way she was getting out of this unscathed. She had zero chances of winning, yet she chose to go to war with the Bratva—with me.
It was just as brave as it was stupid.
I learned that she worked nights at a small boutique so she wouldn’t starve to death. Ravyn and her father had lost almost everything; the Jensen family name had been reduced to nothing.
Yet, with her actions, she’d decided to gamble what’s left of their miserable lives. If they lost it all—and they would—it would be her fault.
I aimed to leave no fingerprints when I ruined the Jensen family and completely destroyed them. They should count themselves lucky that I didn’t plan on taking their lives—though it would be the easiest and safest option.
Why kill them when I could make them dance to my tune?
Patience was a weapon in my world, and I had an abundance of it. I’d wait. I’d be silent, watching from the shadows.
The Jensens were known for their pride, so it would take a while before they’d break. But eventually, they would. By the time I was done with them, they’d be out of options. They’d break under all that pressure, and desperation would seep in through cracks.
When that happened, I’d be there.
That was when the real fun would begin. It was when my plan would swing into motion.
This wasn’t about revenge anymore; it was about control. I wanted to show her that from now on, every breath she took and every step she made would be because I allowed it.
I would have her and her father in the palm of my hand. I would own her like a trophy, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it.