Chapter 26
Roman
The manor's medical room reeked of disinfectant.
Vera lay on the white hospital bed. Dr. Yuri had just finished injecting her with high-concentration clotting factor. Because of that goddamn hemophilia, even tumbling down a few carpeted stairs had left horrifying bruises covering her calves and arms.
"Roman..." Vera leaned weakly against the pillow, tears pooling in those pale hazel eyes.
She reached out with her uninjured hand and tugged gently at my sleeve, her voice trembling like a frightened rabbit.
"Did I do something wrong? I just wanted to say hello to Nadia... I don't know why she got so angry..."
I kept my head down, staring at that pitiful face.
At this distance, if I reached out, it would take less than three seconds to snap her delicate neck.
When I'd seen Nadia tumble down those stairs with her, when I'd realized it was Vera who'd grabbed Nadia's wrist and dragged her down—my blood had turned to molten lava.
I'd seen Nadia lying on the marble floor, her elbow scraped raw and bleeding. In that instant, my hand had already found the gun at my back. I'd wanted nothing more than to pull it and blow this bitch's head into pulp.
But reason—like a strand of rusted wire—had strangled my impulses.
I couldn't.
Outside the manor, FBI bloodhounds were watching my every move. In the shadows, Morozov assassins were sharpening their knives. If I lost control at those stairs today over Nadia, everyone behind Vera would know instantly—the Sokolov Pakhan's true Achilles' heel was a woman named Nadia.
So I'd swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and forced myself to step past my injured wife and carry the real culprit instead.
"This isn't your fault." I kept my voice deliberately soft, fighting the urge to tear her apart. "The doctor said you need rest. I'll handle everything else."
"Don't blame Nadia." Vera was still performing her goodness routine. "She's young. Maybe she just misunderstood our relationship."
"Rest." I yanked my sleeve from her grip without mercy, stood, and locked every emotion behind a wall of darkness.
The moment I turned from that room, the "warmth" vanished from my face. What replaced it was absolute coldness and undisguised murder.
Danny waited in the corridor.
"Get a car ready. Medical team—transfer Vera to our private hospital in the North District. Now." I strode toward the underground command center, voice sharp as glass.
Danny hesitated. "Transfer her to the North District? But Pakhan, didn't we want her under surveillance here?"
"Today she dragged Nadia down a staircase.
Tomorrow she'll poison her food." I clenched my jaw, voice dripping with lethal intent.
"I won't let that ticking bomb stay in this manor another day.
Use the excuse that our medical equipment can't handle severe internal bleeding.
Get her out. I want her and Nadia completely separated.
Without my direct order, she doesn't set foot in this manor again. "
"Understood." Danny turned to make arrangements.
I cut through the corridors and pushed into the tactical command center beneath the manor.
The blast door sealed behind me, cutting off that false world above.
"What've you got?" I approached the massive holographic tactical table.
Several senior intelligence operatives were hammering at keyboards. Danny followed me in and pulled up a web of complex data points.
"Pakhan, this goes deeper than we thought.
" Danny indicated several red markers on the screen.
"Vera's story about those missing days has holes.
We traced the 'kidnapping location' she gave us and found a hidden money trail.
Funds flowing from a Morozov offshore shell company, laundered through several channels, ending up in an informant account tied to David Reynolds, the FBI agent. "
I stared at the screen, eyes frozen.
"There's more." Danny pulled up another frequency graph.
"Last night, tech detected an extremely weak encrypted radio signal at the edge of the manor's jamming network.
Origin point—Vera's room. Only lasted two seconds, not long enough to decrypt, but the frequency matches standard FBI communication bands. "
I lit a cigar and drew deep.
Morozov money. FBI agents. Encrypted signals from inside the manor. Three threads, all converging faintly on Vera.
She hadn't fully shown her hand yet. I didn't have concrete proof she'd betrayed the family. But these threads were enough to prove she was working with outside forces—maybe even coordinating with the FBI and Morozov to tear down the Sokolov empire from within.
"They're waiting for an opportunity." I exhaled smoke and smiled coldly. "Waiting for me to expose a fatal weakness. Or waiting for a deal big enough to bury me in a federal prison."
"So what do we do? Interrogate her directly?" Danny asked.
"No." I tapped my cigar on the table. "If she wants to play, we'll give her a stage. She's going to that North District hospital, right? Put a few guards with loose lips outside her room."
I met Danny's eyes, my gaze cold and absolute.
"Leak false intel. Say that at dawn the day after tomorrow, there's a shipment of Russian heavy weapons coming through Warehouse Seven at the South Harbor.
Say I'm leading the operation personally.
Let's see if this bait hooks Morozov's rats and the FBI's dirty cops. "
This would be a fatal trap. If they bit, I'd make sure none of them left alive.
"Knock, knock."
The command room door opened suddenly. Housekeeper Sofia entered, face tight with anxiety.
"Pakhan..." Sofia glanced at the armed men around us, hesitating.
"Speak." My heart dropped, dread clamping around my chest like a vice.
"It's ma'am..." Sofia lowered her voice, worry and helplessness filling her tone. "She's locked herself in the guest room. She's refusing to let anyone in to bandage her wounds."
The Cuban cigar in my hand broke in half. The burning end scorched my fingertip. I didn't feel it.
She was hurting herself.
The image flashed through my mind—her sitting on that marble floor, eyes full of tears, despair, disbelief as she looked at me. My heart felt wrapped in barbed wire, every breath tasting of blood.
"Pakhan..." Danny saw my face go white and called out in concern. "We just started laying this trap. You absolutely cannot go to her now. If you show even a hint that you care, Vera's people will notice, and we'll lose everything!"
My hands pressed against the tactical table's edge, veins bulging like gnarled tree roots.
I knew Danny was right.
Going to her now would destroy the cold front I'd built. Worse—it might transform her from an "irrelevant substitute" into leverage the FBI and Morozov could use to control me.
I drew a deep breath and forced down the beast inside me that wanted to charge upstairs and lock her in my arms.
"Put a medical kit outside her door." I raised my head, eyes bloodshot with tyrannical authority.
"Then tell every driver in the garage that all manor vehicles need explosive-detection security checks today.
No one starts an engine without my direct order.
And have the guards lock down the manor gates. Not even a bird flies out today."
"Yes, Pakhan." Sofia sighed and left to carry out my orders.
I stared at the time flashing on the command center screens.
Wait for me, Kitten.
Just a few more days. Once I clean up this filthy world, once I've eliminated every threat—even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I'm keeping you chained to my side. Till death do us part.