Chapter 18 - Kliment
“I chose control over trust.”
The words sat between us like something that had taken years to reach the surface and refused to soften now that it finally had.
Fyodor didn’t answer immediately. He stood across from me in the narrow corridor outside the war room, his shoulders squared and gaze steady in a way that used to mirror mine before everything fractured.
Now it didn’t mirror anything. It evaluated me like a stranger.
“That’s not new information,” he said after a moment, voice level. “You’ve always chosen control over everything else.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched again. It was not empty. Just measured.
“I should have trusted you,” I continued. “About Elisse, about your choices, and about the fact that not everything needed to be forced into order to survive. I chose not to out of my own pride and ego, and that resulted in nothing but a fracture between us. I am sorry I let that happen.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away.
“You didn’t just mistrust me,” he said. “You tried to break what I chose and tried to push me away from the one person I loved.”
“Elisse made you a target, and I was worried about you, Fyodor. In my own misguided way, I was trying to protect you from everything that could have harmed you, but I didn’t realize it would end up pushing you away from me.”
“Elisse made me human,” he corrected, sharper now. “You just didn’t know what to do with that.”
That landed exactly where it was meant to, and I didn’t argue. For the first time in years, I didn’t try to win the conversation.
“I was wrong,” I said simply.
He studied me like he was waiting for the angle. The hidden motive. The strategy behind the admission. But there wasn’t one. Not this time.
“You’re not saying this because of me,” he said slowly.
“No.”
“Then why now?”
Because of her. Because somewhere between watching Misha bleed on a warehouse floor and watching her stand between two empires without flinching, something in me had shifted permanently. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I answered honestly in the only way that mattered.
“Because I understand it now. I think Misha has made me human the way Elisse made you human.”
There was another pause, but this one was lighter. Things between us were not yet resolved or forgiven, but they were no longer sharp enough to cut. Fyodor exhaled slowly, then nodded once.
“I’m not forgiving you,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“But I’m not walking away either. Our relationship was fractured too deeply, but now that you are here and ready to make amends, I am sure it will fix itself. Besides, it's Ilana you need to be apologetic to far more than me.”
“I already apologized to her,” I replied with a smile. “And she was a little more forgiving than you.”
That was more than I had expected. From both him and Ilana, and definitely more than I deserved.
“Good,” I said.
He held my gaze for another second, then turned towards the war room.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Before Timofey starts a fight out of boredom.”
A faint, almost involuntary smirk pulled at my mouth. Some things, apparently, were consistent across families. We stepped back inside together, and the shift was immediate. The room wasn’t divided anymore, but it was weirdly blended.
Misha stood at the center of the table, one hand braced against the surface, the other flipping through printed layouts of the industrial district.
Her foot moved without the brace now, steady and controlled.
Her entire team was present as well, everyone busy with work that awaited us.
Both the Romanov and Chernykh operations had been halted to focus solely on this one mission.
She didn’t look up when we entered, but she didn’t need to either.
She knew exactly who was in the room at all times.
Around her, the dynamic was something I had never seen before.
Iosif Chernykh stood to one side, arms crossed and listening rather than directing.
Avgust Chernykh leaned over a tablet with Nico, discussing supply routes like they had been doing for years instead of days.
Nico spoke in low, measured tones, efficient and focused, and then there was the other side of the room.
“Say that again,” Jarek said flatly.
“I said your plan is inefficient,” Timofey replied, equally flat. “Try to keep up.”
Jarek’s eyes narrowed. “I understood you. I just didn’t think anyone could be that stupid out loud.”
Timofey grinned. Actually grinned.
“Careful,” he said lazily. “You might start to sound threatened.”
“I’m not threatened,” Jarek said. “I’m irritated.”
“That’s worse.”
I watched them for a moment, waiting for escalation or violence, but it didn’t come. The entire room had stopped working to focus on this entirely stupid argument that was unfolding before us.
“Your entry point is exposed,” Timofey added, tapping the map. “If you go in from here, you’re walking into crossfire.”
Jarek paused and looked at the map. Then back at him.
“…Show me,” he said.
Timofey’s grin widened. “Gladly.”
I exhaled slowly, knowing they would be fine.
It was not possible to end years of enmity in one single day and through one single mission.
Everything took time and patience. Across the table, Ilana caught my eye for a brief second.
There was something in her expression I hadn’t seen in a long time.
From what I knew of my sister, it looked like relief.
A part of me knew exactly why she felt that way.
Beside her, Elisse leaned in slightly, murmuring something under her breath that made Ilana huff out a quiet laugh.
Even Zhenya Chernykh was sprawled casually in a chair, even though she was participating in none of the planning.
Clara, Iosif’s wife, breezed between everyone as if supervising a group project.
I didn’t let myself linger on anything, my attention shifting back to Misha at once. Always back to her. She finally looked up, blue eyes cutting through the room with sharp precision.
“Good,” she said, glancing between Timofey and Jarek. “If you two are done posturing, we can move forward.”
“We weren’t posturing,” they said at the same time.
She didn’t even react. Just turned slightly, reaching for another file.
“Anton Sidorov is here,” she said, placing the document flat on the table.
“Yes,” Sera replied, standing right beside Misha. “We have confirmation on the coordinates that were given to us by the two men in the warehouse. Although from the activity around the port warehouses, it seems as if he is planning to travel soon.”
“We also have intel that some cargo ships are arriving or have arrived, and they will be used for the transport,” Alina added.
“Yes. What matters right now is that we have confirmed the movement pattern. He’s not stationary for more than six hours at a time, but this location,” she tapped the map, “is his current operational base.”
The room shifted instantly, and everyone’s focus sharpened. This was no longer an adjustment. This was execution.
“Fortification?” Avgust asked.
“Moderate,” Diane replied. “Enough to deter casual interference. Not enough to expect a coordinated strike.”
“Which means he’s confident,” Avgust added.
“Or careless,” Nico said.
Misha’s gaze flicked to mine briefly.
“Or both,” she agreed.
That look lingered half a second longer than necessary. Then she turned back to the table.
“I think we are ready to attack and get to Sidorov before it gets too late. I will be leading the entry from the frontlines.”
No one interrupted her, and no one questioned it. Not her brothers and not mine either. That alone would have been unthinkable weeks ago.
“I’ll take the primary team through the west access,” she continued. “Surveillance will be jammed for exactly four minutes. After that, we assume visibility is restored.”
“I’ll handle perimeter containment,” I said. She didn’t argue or hesitate. Just nodded once.
“I’ll coordinate fallback routes along with Avgust,” Fyodor added.
“Done,” Avgust nodded.
Iosif watched all of this in silence and finally turned to Misha again.
“You’re certain?” he asked her. It was not a challenge but a question, and Misha met his gaze without flinching.
“Yes.”
A beat. Then he nodded.
“Then we move.”
That was it. No command override. No control asserted.
Just acceptance. As the discussion continued and routes, timing, and contingencies were discussed, I found my attention splitting between the plan and the person leading it.
I could not help but notice the way she moved through the room and the way people listened when she spoke.
The way she didn’t raise her voice, didn’t demand authority, yet held it completely.
I had commanded men through fear. Through loyalty forged in violence.
But she commanded through certainty and clarity.
Through something far more dangerous. Belief.
And they followed her without hesitation.
Including me. That realization settled deeper than I expected.
The meeting stretched late into the night as details were refined to precision.
By the time the final routes were confirmed and assignments locked in, exhaustion hovered at the edges of the room.
But no one left immediately. No one wanted to be the first to break whatever this was. Eventually, Misha leaned back slightly, rolling her shoulder once.
“That’s enough for tonight,” she said.
A collective exhale followed, and chairs shifted while papers were gathered. Movement was less urgent now, even though everyone was still alert and still planning.
Jarek stood, stretching slightly, and Timofey glanced at him.
“You’re still wrong about that entry point,” he said.
Jarek looked at him for a long second.
“We’ll see,” he replied.
Timofey smirked. “We will.”
Across the room, Viktor caught my eye briefly but didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to. Everything was already understood.
This was no longer a divided operation, but it was something else entirely.
Something far more volatile and far more powerful.
As the room began to clear, Misha gathered the last of the files, stacking them neatly.
I moved toward her without thinking. She didn’t look up when I reached her.
“Your team trusts all of us now,” I said quietly.
“They trust me,” she replied. “Which means they trust my decisions.”
I nodded once. That was fair. Her gaze finally lifted to mine.
“And you?” she asked.
There was no hesitation. “I trust you too.”
Something softened in her expression. “Good. Take me to bed now?”
“In your own house? Iosif will kill me,” I whispered, a chuckle escaping from my mouth.
“And you can’t die for me?” she pouted, no longer the hardcore enforcer she had been moments ago. She looked softer now, more vulnerable. This was a side of her she didn’t let a lot of people see.
“I definitely can,” I replied, effortlessly picking her up in my arms as she squealed and carried her upstairs into the night.