Chapter 24
Tigran
The ultrasound images are spread across my desk like battle plans. Six grainy black and white photographs have changed everything about how I see the world because I’m responsible for protecting them before they even take their first breaths.
I’ve faced war, betrayal, and assassination attempts without flinching, but fatherhood, especially the prospect of six children at once, shakes me to my core in ways I never anticipated.
Every decision I make from this moment forward affects not just Zita and me, but tiny innocent lives who will depend on my ability to keep them safe in a world that wants to destroy everything I’ve built, and enemies who won’t hesitate to use them against me.
The logistics alone are staggering.
Six newborns.
I can’t just worry about one child getting kidnapped or used as leverage against me. I have to plan for scenarios involving multiple targets, coordinated attacks, and threats that could come from any direction.
Viktor knocks on my office door at the cabin, carrying files that contain intelligence reports I’ve been waiting for.
“The sweep of Federoff properties is complete. We found evidence of weapons stockpiling at three locations and financial records that show they’ve been coordinating with the Torrino family in New Jersey. ”
“Is there any indication they know about Zita’s condition?” I set down the ultrasound photos and focus on information that could affect our immediate security.
“Nothing specific, but they’re definitely planning something significant.” Viktor spreads surveillance photos across my desk. “The increased activity suggests they’re preparing for a major offensive, probably within the next few weeks.”
The timeline chills me. Zita is only eight weeks pregnant, which means we have months before the babies are born, but if the Federoffs are planning to move soon, I can’t wait until after the birth to eliminate the threat.
Every day they remain operational is another day they could discover Zita’s pregnancy and target her specifically.
“Double the security at the safehouse.” I make notes on a legal pad while studying the surveillance images. “I want twenty-four-hour protection details assigned to Dr. Kozlova and anyone else who knows about Zita’s condition.”
“Already done.” Viktor’s efficiency is why he’s survived fifteen years as my father’s lieutenant and why I’ve kept him in his position. “I’ve also initiated background checks on every staff member at Northwestern Memorial who might be involved in Zita’s care.”
“Good. What about the financial tracking on Federoff operations?”
“They’re hemorrhaging money faster than they’re bringing it in. The weapons purchases and recruitment efforts are straining their resources, which means they’re either getting outside funding, or they’re planning something that will generate significant revenue quickly.”
There are several ways they could do that, but I know almost instinctively which one Avgar has chosen. “They’re planning to kidnap someone for ransom, or they’re preparing to take over territory that will provide ongoing income.”
“Both possibilities require getting past us first.” Viktor closes his file. “Which means we’re looking at an all-out war, not just targeted harassment.”
I nod. “He’s not going to be allowed to kidnap Zita.”
“No way, boss.” He heads toward the door. “Those of us who stick by you will die to protect her and your heirs.”
“I appreciate that.” After Viktor leaves, I sit alone with the ultrasound images and the intelligence reports, trying to reconcile the man I need to be as a father with the man I need to be as the head of the Bratva.
The two roles feel incompatible in ways that make my chest constrict with anxiety I’ve never experienced before.
I pick up my secure phone and start making calls to contacts in Russia, calling in favors that have been accumulating for years. If the Federoffs want a war, I’ll give them one, but it will be fought on my terms and end with their complete destruction before my children are born.
“Dmitri, it’s Tigran.” The connection to Moscow is clear despite the encryption. “I need a complete dossier on every Federoff ally, financial backer, and potential supporter. Everything you can find, and I need it within forty-eight hours.”
“This is about the trouble in Chicago?” Dmitri Volkov has been running intelligence operations for the Moscow Bratva for twenty years, and his network spans three continents.
“It’s about ending the trouble in Chicago permanently.” I flip through surveillance photos while we talk. “Avgar Federoff has escalated beyond what I can tolerate, and I want him and everyone connected to him eliminated before they can threaten my family again.”
“Family?” There’s surprise in Dmitri’s voice. “I heard you married the Lo Duca girl, but I didn’t realize it had become personal.”
“It’s personal.” I don’t elaborate on just how personal it’s become. “Can you deliver the intelligence or not?”
“Consider it done, but if you’re planning what I think you’re planning, you’ll need more than intelligence. You’ll need weapons, trustworthy personnel, and coordination that goes beyond what your Chicago operation can handle alone.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting if you want to eliminate the Federoffs completely, you let Moscow provide direct support.
You won’t have much trouble garnering it, and Federoff has none here.
He’s burned too many bridges. With our back-up, you can send a message to every family in America that attacking a Belsky has consequences that extend far beyond local retaliation. ”
The offer is tempting, but accepting help from Moscow means owing favors that could complicate my plans to legitimize parts of the Bratva operation. “I’ll consider it. Send me the intelligence first, and we’ll discuss additional support based on what we’re dealing with.”
After the call ends, I spend the next two hours reaching out to contacts in Detroit, Boston, and Miami, building a network of information and potential allies that will help me understand the full scope of the Federoff threat.
Each conversation reinforces the same conclusion.
Avgar is preparing for something big, and if I don’t act first, Zita and our children could be caught in the crossfire.
The sun is setting by the time I finish my calls and start reviewing architectural plans for property acquisitions.
If we’re going to raise six children safely, the current safehouse arrangements won’t be sufficient.
I need something more permanent, more secure, and more suited to the long-term needs of a large family.
The property I’m considering is a forty-acre estate in Lake Forest, far enough from the city to provide privacy and security, but close enough to maintain business operations and access to medical care.
The main house has eight bedrooms, which will accommodate six children plus staff quarters.
The grounds include space for a helicopter pad, secure perimeter fencing, and outbuildings that could house security personnel.
It’s the basement specifications that really interest me.
The previous owner was a tech executive with paranoid tendencies, and he installed a state-of-the-art bunker system complete with independent power, water, and air filtration.
If we’re ever under siege, Zita and the children could survive down there for weeks.
My phone buzzes with a text from Dr. Kozlova confirming Zita’s appointment for next week and requesting additional security measures for the clinic.
The reality of managing six high-risk pregnancies while maintaining operational security is beginning to sink in.
Every doctor’s visit becomes a potential target opportunity.
Every test result creates another piece of information that could be compromised.
I make a note to have Viktor arrange to move the clinic from the current Chicago house to build a private medical wing at the Lake Forest property, adding obstetrics and NICU facilities.
If we’re going to do this safely, we need to control every variable, including who has access to Zita during her pregnancy and delivery, along with who cares for our children afterward.
They’ll be safer in a NICU at our home, cared for by carefully screened workers.
It’s an unorthodox arrangement, but I doubt we’ll have much trouble finding live-in staff with the kind of compensation I can offer.
The office door opens without a knock, which means it’s either Viktor with urgent intelligence or Zita, who’s the only person allowed to interrupt me without permission.
I look up to see her in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts over leggings, her hand resting unconsciously on her still-flat stomach.
“You’ve been in here for eight hours.” She settles into the chair across from my desk. “What are you planning?”
“I’m planning to keep you and our children safe.” I close the property files and focus on her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired, nauseated, and overwhelmed by the idea of carrying six babies for the next seven months.” Zita picks up one of the ultrasound photos.
“That’s not why I’m here though. I can hear you on the phone through the door, and I know you’re organizing something that involves a lot of violence.
I’ve learned enough Russian to pick out some phrases. ”
“The Federoffs are planning to escalate their attacks.” I don’t see any point in hiding the intelligence from her. “If I don’t move first, they’ll come after us, possibly you, directly, especially if they find out about the pregnancy.”
“So, you’re going to start a war to end a war.” Zita’s voice is carefully neutral. “You’re going to kill everyone connected to them before they can threaten our family.”