Chapter 16 - Kliment
“We need to head inside.” My voice carried low but absolute as I stepped through the safe house entrance, not bothering to look back to see if they would follow.
I already knew they did. Misha had made sure of that with her conditions.
As the Chernykh brothers, Fyodor, Nico, and Jarek, stepped inside the house, the tension entered with them.
It was thick and immediate, dragging history behind it like something sharp and unfinished.
Misha had already sent her team away, and my men were all back at their posts.
The house had no one but us. I could feel the tension settle into the walls, the floor, and the very structure of the house.
This was neutral ground. In theory. In reality, nothing about this was neutral.
“Weapons,” I said, stopping just inside the main room.
No one moved at first.
Iosif’s gaze flicked toward me, calm but edged with something colder than anger.
Avgust stood half a step ahead of Timofey, already coiled and ready for escalation.
Across from them, Nico and Jarek had positioned themselves without needing instruction, their silence louder than any threat.
They were the first ones to keep their pistols on the table outside.
Fyodor lingered just behind them all, watching and assessing.
The last conversation I had with him before he had left was fresh in my mind, but I was a different person now. I knew I had been wrong.
“This is not a negotiation,” I added when none of the Chernykh brothers made an attempt to surrender their guns.
Fyodor went ahead and did it wordlessly.
Iosif reached for his weapon next, setting it down on the table between us.
The sound was quiet and heavy, but enough to establish some sort of neutrality between us.
I had no desire to watch my safehouse turn into a battleground.
Avgust followed, though his movement was sharper and less willing.
Timofey sighed under his breath but complied anyway, dropping his weapon with less care.
Steel abandoned for the illusion of control.
I stepped forward and did the same, and the room shifted after that.
For some reason, rather than appearing calmer, it only seemed more dangerous.
Misha finally came inside the room, her gaze running over everyone before she stepped forward into the center.
Exactly where she belonged. Every gaze in the room followed her.
“You have been missing for weeks,” Avgust said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was tight with restrained fury. “And we find you walking out of a compromised warehouse with Kliment Romanov.”
His eyes cut towards me, sharp and accusing.
“I think explanations are overdue.”
“They are,” Misha said before I could respond.
Her voice didn’t rise and didn’t waver. It didn’t need to, as silence fell around us again, and she finally started to speak.
“I have been looking for Sergei Volkov.”
The name landed like a crack through the room, and I watched the shift happen in real time.
Iosif stilled, clearly recognizing the name from bratva circles.
I could see the slight tightening at the jaw and the fraction of a second where calculation paused.
Avgust’s expression darkened immediately, and Timofey stopped moving altogether.
Even Nico’s posture adjusted, subtle but present.
Nico and Jarek were still unaware of the situation as well.
Misha didn’t pause.
“He’s running an international trafficking network through port systems. It is not small-scale or isolated but rather structured and clearly well-funded and protected.”
No one spoke. No one interrupted. Because they understood what that meant.
She stepped closer to the table, her hands resting lightly against the edge, her gaze moving between them without hesitation.
“I traced it back months ago through shipment codes, offshore accounts, and auction records.” Her voice remained steady. “I first noticed the exact symbol on the video footage showing Ilana’s auction, and then I noticed the same symbol resurfacing in port activity here.”
Avgust’s expression hardened. His shoulders tightened, and attention sharpened in a way that had nothing to do with power and everything to do with something far more personal.
“Anton Sidorov is Volkov’s right hand and is managing the Miami operations. He’s Volkov’s direct subordinate and is probably running the entire international network for him. He’s been moving people under medical export classifications because they are easy to push across borders.”
Timofey let out a slow breath. “That’s… smart.”
“Exactly,” she accepted. “No one looks closely at medical shipments unless they have a reason to.”
Iosif’s voice cut in then, quieter than before. “And you’ve been doing this alone? You have been looking for Volkov and Sidorov to destroy the trafficking network once and for all, I assume?”
“Yes,” Misha replied, simple and precise. She hadn’t tried to soften anything for anyone and had presented facts as facts.
Avgust stepped forward immediately. “That must end now, Misha. You have no idea what you are stepping into. I don’t know about Sidorov, but Volkov is a force, and he isn’t someone you can fight with alone.”
Misha didn’t move. “No.”
“This is not a discussion, Misha,” Lukyan pointed, standing up. “If you could step back, all of us can take care of this operation for you, and you won’t have to risk your life again and again in front of a man like Volkov.”
“This is my operation, Lukyan. I will do anything but abandon it. I have been working and researching for months now, and I have managed to gather my own team and my own support. I refuse to let go of all my hard work because you all believe that I am too fragile to handle it on my own.
The words landed hard.
“You don’t get to decide that, Misha,” Avgust snapped.
“I have already decided that, and none of you can dissuade me.”
Iosif’s gaze locked onto her, something far heavier settling behind it now. “You should have come to us.”
“And then what?” she asked calmly. “You would have burned everything down without proof. Started a war without knowing who you were fighting. Or perhaps you would have told me how this is an unnecessary battle that I didn’t even need to fight?”
“You don’t know that, Misha. We could have been supportive and would have taken care of it for you,” he said.
“I don’t want you to take care of it for me. I want you to trust me enough to believe that I can take care of it myself.”
Silence cracked again, and this time it was louder and more dangerous.
Timofey ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping. “You’re telling us you’ve been tracking a Russian pakhan operating a trafficking network through our ports alone for months and that we should let you keep doing it?”
“Yes.”
“And you thought that was a good idea?”
“No,” she said. “I thought it was a necessary one.”
Iosif exhaled slowly, his composure barely holding. “You’re stepping away from this, Misha. I cannot have you going around, risking your life in god knows what ways. I would rather handle this myself and have you alive and safe. I promise you I will get you the outcome you want if you listen.”
“No.”
“Misha—”
“I have already said no.”
The repetition wasn’t louder. It didn’t need to be. Because it was final.
Avgust’s temper snapped next. “You will get yourself killed.”
“I won’t.”
They stood there, facing each other, neither willing to yield. Neither built to. And before it could escalate further, I spoke.
“She has been handling this without you, without all of you, for months now. And she has been doing a damned good job at that. I have seen Misha run the operations up close, and I have met the team of women she has gathered for her cause, and every single one of them is smart, accomplished and lethal. If anything, you should be proud of her.”
Every head turned, and the room shifted instantly. Not just because I spoke, but because of what I said.
“You are a hypocrite to be saying that after you refused to bring Ilana even close to this life,” Avgust scoffed, referencing his wife and my sister.
“Ilana never wanted a taste of it. But if she had wanted to, I would have been a supportive brother and would have trained her myself.”
There was absolute silence.
Avgust’s expression darkened immediately. “How I act as a brother doesn’t concern you.”
“It does now.”
Iosif’s gaze moved to me again, slower this time. More dangerous.
“You think you understand our family?”
“No,” I said evenly. “I think I understand Misha, and that is more than enough.”
That was worse. Far worse. Misha moved, then, taking one step forward and breaking the line of confrontation before it could fracture into something irreversible.
“I can speak for myself.” Her voice cut cleanly through the room, steady and sharp.
“This was never about rebellion,” she continued. “I wasn’t trying to go against you. This is simply about responsibility and how I feel about this cause. I know I have it in me to be able to help these women, and I will do everything in my power to do exactly that.”
“You should have trusted us,” Iosif said, his expression still unreadable.
“I do,” she said. “But you don’t trust me.”
That fractured something. It was subtle but true.
“You protect me,” she continued. “You make decisions for me. You decide what I can and cannot handle.”
“Because we know what this world does to people,” Avgust snapped.
“So do I.”
“I’m not asking for permission,” she said finally. “I’m telling you what I’m doing.”
“And if we don’t agree?” Timofey asked.
She held his gaze and then answered. “It doesn’t change anything.”
And with just that reply, she had drawn the line.
It was clean and irreversible. The room shifted again, tension tightening, snapping into something sharper and more volatile.
And that was when I moved towards her, my hand settling at the curve of her waist like it belonged there.
I could hear her breath hitch, but she made no attempt to move or remove my hand.
She knew it was intentional, and everyone knew what it meant.
Misha Chernykh was mine, and the lines between the Romanovs and Chernykhs had never been blurred this heavily before.