18. Dmitri
Dmitri
Pavel’s security assessment revealed enough vulnerabilities to make me wonder how we survived this long.
More concerning is how exposed Katya has been. The thought of rival families watching her and studying her routines makes something primal and violent stir in my chest.
“Seventeen access points that could be exploited by a trained surveillance team,” he reports as we sit in my office.
His folder is thick with photographs and diagrams. “Camera blind spots that create thirty-second windows for approach. Guard rotations that follow patterns visible from multiple vantage points.”
I eye the photographs he’s spread across my desk. Each one shows a different weakness in our defenses, marked with red circles and detailed annotations.
“How bad is it?”
Pavel points to a surveillance photo taken from across the street. “This position offers clear sight lines to your main entrance, service areas, and residential floors.”
“And you think the men who abducted my wife used it.”
“I know they used it. I found cigarette butts, food wrappers, and tripod impressions that indicate long-term observation.” He slides another photograph toward me. “Professional surveillance. Military-grade equipment.”
My stomach lurches with something that feels uncomfortably like fear. Not for myself, but for Katya. The idea of these bastards watching her, photographing her daily routines, makes my blood burn with the need to hunt them down and tear them apart.
“Military-grade? From where?”
“Black market, most likely. Former military contractors sell equipment to whoever pays best. The Borisenko family has recently expanded their technical capabilities.”
“You know about the Borisenkos?”
“I know about most major families in the region. Part of the job.” Pavel pulls out another set of photographs. “Their surveillance patterns show they’re more interested in your personal vulnerabilities than your business operations.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they want leverage over you. Your wife, your routine, your emotional attachments.” He taps one of the photographs. “This isn’t about territory or revenue. It’s personal.”
The assessment makes sense given what I know about the Borisenko family’s grudge against my organization, but Pavel’s detailed knowledge of their operations strikes me as unusual for a security consultant.
“How do you know so much about their methods?”
“I’ve dealt with similar situations. Rival families using personal targets to gain advantages in business disputes.” Pavel opens his folder to another section. “The patterns are consistent across organizations.”
“What do you recommend?”
“The first priority is enhanced protective measures. New guard rotations, additional camera coverage, and countersurveillance.” Pavel snaps his folder closed. “I can provide ongoing security consultation to implement these changes.”
“Ongoing consultation?”
“Your wife is a high-value target now. The Borisenkos won’t stop after one failed attempt.”
The offer sounds reasonable, but something about Pavel’s eagerness to stay close to Katya is alarming. Professional security consultants usually want to implement their recommendations and move on to the next client.
“That seems excessive for dealing with one family.”
“With respect, Mr. Kozlov, the Borisenkos have invested serious resources. That level of commitment doesn’t disappear after a failed attempt.”
“You think they’ll try again.”
“Without a doubt. They’re studying your response to the first attempt and looking for weaknesses in whatever new security measures you implement. Having someone with advanced tactical experience on your team could provide significant advantages.”
“Such as?”
“Intelligence about rival family operations, to start.”
I raise an eyebrow at this claim. “You have firsthand intelligence about this family?”
Pavel shrugs. “I have contacts. Former military colleagues who work in various sectors. Security firms, government contracts, private intelligence. They keep tabs on all the Bratva families.”
“And these contacts would share intelligence about criminal organizations?”
“Nothing specific enough to constitute official involvement, but useful for avoiding conflicts.”
I press my lips into a thin line before I ask, “What kind of intelligence?”
“For instance, I can tell you that the Borisenko family has recently recruited former government operatives. New personnel with specialized training in extraction and interrogation.”
“Government operatives?”
“FSB, military intelligence… anyone with useful skills who’s willing to work for private organizations.” Pavel pulls out his phone and scrolls through what appears to be personnel files. “They’re building a more sophisticated operation.”
Every word Pavel says makes sense on the surface, but underneath, I catch implications that put me on edge. If he knows this much about the Borisenko family’s recruitment efforts, how did he acquire that information?
“Interesting intelligence.”
“I’d call it concerning. They’re not just expanding; they’re specifically targeting your organization.”
I sit up straighter at that. “How so?”
“They’ve been asking questions about your wife. Her background, how long you’ve been married, and whether she has any intelligence value beyond being leverage against you.”
Fire races through my veins. The thought of those animals discussing Katya, evaluating her worth, and planning what they might do with her makes me want to burn their organization to the ground.
If the Borisenkos are investigating Katya’s background, they might discover who she really is. And if they realize she’s FSB, they’ll either try to turn her or eliminate her.
“What kind of questions?”
“Whether she has access to your business operations. Whether she might have information that could be used against your organization.” Pavel puts his phone away. “They think she knows more than she’s telling you.”
“She doesn’t know anything about my business.”
“Are you sure? Their intelligence suggests she’s been asking very informed questions as of late.”
My blood runs cold, and I suck in a breath. “What do you recommend?”
“Relocation. This building is compromised. There are too many surveillance points and too much hostile attention. You need somewhere more isolated and easier to secure.”
“Such as?”
“Rural location, single-access road with natural barriers to observation. Somewhere you can control the environment.”
“I have an estate outside the city. Comprehensive security, remote location.”
“Perfect. Moving there would eliminate most current vulnerabilities while providing time to develop long-term security protocols.”
“And you would handle the transition?”
“I would coordinate all aspects of the relocation and remain on-site to ensure ongoing security.”
I squint at him. “Why would you need to be on-site?”
“Your wife needs professional protection until these threats are neutralized.”
There it is again, that eager insistence on staying close to Katya. Either Pavel is the most dedicated security consultant I’ve met, or he has other motivations for wanting access to her.
“I’ll consider your recommendations.”
“Time is a factor, Mr. Kozlov. The longer you remain in a compromised location, the more intelligence hostile families can gather about your operations.”
“Understood. I’ll arrange for the estate and let you know if you’ll be joining us.”
Pavel nods and gathers his materials. “Excellent. In the meantime, I can begin advance security preparations.”
“I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move.”
“Of course. But I strongly recommend making that decision quickly. The Borisenkos won’t wait to make their next move.”
I sit in my office after Pavel leaves, staring at the photographs while my mind races. Everything he said about rival family surveillance makes sense, but his knowledge of their operations seems unusually detailed for a former military contractor.
More troubling is his obvious interest in staying close to Katya.
My phone goes off with a text from Alexei.
Need to talk. Downstairs.
I pocket the phone and head downstairs to find him pacing in the parking garage.
“We have a problem,” he declares.
“Which problem?”
“You’re spending more money on elaborate security theater for one woman than we spend on actual business operations.”
“Security isn’t theater when rival families are trying to kill your wife.”
“Wife?” Alexei stops pacing to stare at me. “She’s not your wife, Dmitri. She’s a government agent who was sent to destroy us. Or have you forgotten that?”
“Wife. Prisoner. Agent. Doesn’t matter. She’s the line no one crosses and lives. That’s wife enough.”
He gawks at me, and his jaw drops. “She’s your prisoner. And maintaining this fiction is costing us more than just money.”
“Such as?”
“Credibility. Respect. The loyalty of men who think their boss has lost his fucking mind over a woman who tried to put him in prison.”
“My personal decisions don’t affect the business.”
“Don’t they? When was the last time you attended one of our internal meetings? When have you last reviewed financial reports or approved new operations?”
“I review everything that requires my attention.”
“You review what Semenov and I bring to your attention. But you’re not managing anything because you’re too busy playing house with a woman who wants you dead.”
“She doesn’t remember who she was.”
“Maybe she doesn’t, or maybe she’s playing a longer game than you realize.” Alexei resumes his pacing. “Either way, the organization is suffering because you’re not present.”
“I’m present.”
“You’re physically present. Mentally, you’re obsessed with keeping her happy and confused and dependent on you.” He spins around to pin me with a glare. “Do you know what Father would say about this?”
I wince at the question. I know what our father would say. He would say that personal feelings are a luxury that men in our position cannot afford. He would say that anyone who threatens the organization should be eliminated.
He would say that keeping Katya alive is the kind of mistake that gets entire families killed.
But I can’t help it. I am obsessed with her. Obsessed with the way she looks at me like I'm worth saving, obsessed with claiming every response I can draw from her body, and obsessed with making sure no one else can have what's mine.
“Father’s not here,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“No, but his principles should be. And his first principle was that the organization comes before everything else.”
“The organization is fine.”
“The organization is bleeding money while you hire expensive consultants to protect a woman who doesn’t need protection from external threats.”
“She needs protection from people who want to kill her.”
“Why do you care if they kill her? That would fix the problem for us, and you wouldn’t have her blood on your hands. Or do you need to justify keeping her around by creating threats that require your protection so you can play hero?”
My face burns hot as I growl, “That’s not what this is about.”
“It sure looks like you’re so afraid of her remembering who she is that you’ll bankrupt the organization to keep her confused and grateful.”
“The organization isn’t going bankrupt.”
“The organization is stagnating. We’re spending more on defensive measures than offensive operations.
More on security consultants than territorial expansion.
” Alexei pulls out his phone to show me a financial summary.
“This month’s expenses include forty thousand for surveillance equipment and sixty thousand for additional personnel.
And now, you want to hire a full-time residential consultant. ”
“Security is an investment.”
“It’s an unnecessary expense. Expensive security for one person is a luxury we can’t afford indefinitely.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting you remember who you are and what you built before she came along. You need to decide whether you’re the leader of a criminal organization or a lovesick fool who’s going to destroy everything for a woman who was sent to destroy him.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” My reply leaves no room for negotiation.
“Then find a way to manage both. But stop pretending that keeping her is a business decision when it’s obviously personal. If you can’t juggle both, then you have a choice to make.”
Alexei turns and walks toward his car, leaving me alone in the parking garage with the weight of his ultimatum.
He’s right about the financial drain. He’s right about my distraction from business operations. He’s probably right that keeping Katya is more about my obsession than revenge.
But he’s wrong about one thing. This isn’t just about choosing between the organization and a woman.
It’s about choosing between the man I was before I tasted her surrender, before I heard my name on her lips when she comes apart in my arms, and before I knew what it felt like to own someone completely.
The addiction to her submission and the way she looks at me like I'm her entire world has become more necessary than breathing. And despite everything logical and rational and businesslike that argues against it, I’m not ready to give up the man I’ve become.
Even if it costs me everything else.