Chapter 46 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The grandfather clock in my study strikes three in the morning, its chime echoing through the tension-thick air.
I stand at the window overlooking the estate grounds, my reflection ghosting in the glass alongside the security lights dotting the perimeter.
Behind me, Alexei paces like a caged wolf, his boots wearing a path in the Persian rug.
"We need to hit them now," he says for the third time, his voice tight with frustration. "Before they take any more territory."
I don't turn around. My eyes track the movement of guards patrolling below, their weapons visible even from this distance. "And start a war that will consume half the city?"
"They've already started the war." Borge's deep voice rumbles from where he sits in the leather chair, his massive frame making the furniture look like it belongs in a dollhouse. "Ivan Volkov took over the docks last night. That's Morozov territory. Our territory."
My jaw clenches. The docks represent millions in revenue, not to mention the strategic importance of controlling shipping routes. Ivan knows exactly what he's doing. He's testing me, pushing to see how far he can go before I push back.
"He's also been visiting our protected businesses," Borge adds, pulling up something on his tablet. "Three restaurants, two construction companies, and a shipping firm. All in the last forty-eight hours. He's not asking for protection money. He's telling them they work for him now."
I finally turn from the window, moving to my desk. "How many have switched allegiance?"
"None yet," Alexei says. "But they're scared. Ivan's making it clear that anyone who stays loyal to you will face consequences."
I pour vodka into a crystal tumbler. It doesn't help. Nothing helps when I'm watching everything I've worked for being dismantled piece by piece.
"The rumors are worse," Borge continues. "Ivan's spreading stories that you've gone soft. That your wife has corrupted you, made you weak. That the old ways are dying because you're too busy playing house to lead properly."
My hand tightens on the glass until I hear it crack. Alina. Of course they're targeting her. She's the visible symbol of everything that's changed, everything that threatens their traditional power structure.
"Some of the neutral families are starting to listen," Borge says quietly. "They're wondering if maybe Ivan has a point. If maybe the reforms you proposed are making us vulnerable."
I set down the glass before I shatter it completely. "What do you recommend?"
Alexei stops pacing and faces me directly. "We hit Ivan's operations. Hard and fast. Take out his lieutenants, burn his businesses, show everyone that you're still the Pakhan they should fear. Remind them what happens when someone challenges the Morozov family."
It's exactly what the old Dimitri would have done. The man I was before Alina, before I started questioning whether violence was always the answer. That Dimitri would have already mobilized his soldiers, would have painted the streets red with Ivan's blood.
But I'm trying to build something different. Something better.
"If we respond with violence, we prove Ivan's point," I say, my voice controlled despite the rage burning in my chest. "We show the neutral families that nothing has changed, that we're still just thugs killing each other over territory."
"And if we don't respond, we look weak," Alexei counters.
He's right. I know he's right. But I also know that starting another war will destroy everything Alina and I have been working toward.
I'm about to respond when I hear soft footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, Alina appears in the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe, her red hair loose around her shoulders. Her green eyes are alert despite the late hour, and I see the concern written across her face.
"Go back to bed," I tell her, my tone sharper than I intend.
Her eyes flash with anger, and I realize my mistake immediately. Alexei and the others shift uncomfortably. They're still getting used to the idea of a woman being present during strategy sessions, still adjusting to the reality that Alina is more than just my wife.
"Alina, it's three in the morning. You need rest. The baby needs rest."
She moves into the room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "The baby is fine. And I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."
I see Alexei open his mouth to protest, but I raise a hand to stop him. There's no point in arguing with her. When Alina makes up her mind about something, she's as immovable as stone.
"Ivan Volkov is making moves against us," I explain, gesturing to the maps and reports spread across my desk. "Taking territory, intimidating our businesses, spreading rumors. Alexei wants to respond with force."
Alina moves to the desk, studying the documents with the same sharp intelligence that first surprised me. She's learned to read the tactical layouts, to understand the power dynamics at play. "And you don't want to?"
"I want to," I admit. "Every instinct I have is screaming at me to go to war. But starting another bloodbath undermines everything we're trying to accomplish."
She's quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the map showing Ivan's recent acquisitions. Then she looks up at me, and I see something calculating in her expression. "What if we don't fight Ivan directly?"
"What do you mean?" Borge asks, his tone skeptical.
"Ivan's strategy is to make you look weak by forcing you to either back down or start a war," Alina says, her voice gaining confidence. "Either way, he wins. If you back down, you look soft. If you start a war, you prove his point that nothing has really changed."
I lean against the desk, studying my wife. "Go on."
"So we do neither. Instead of focusing on Ivan, we focus on the families who haven't chosen sides yet.
" She pulls up the list of neutral families on Borge’s tablet.
"These are the ones who matter. If we can win them over, show them that your way actually works, then Ivan becomes isolated. Irrelevant."
Alexei frowns. "How do we show them it works when Ivan is actively taking our territory?"
"We show them the numbers," Alina says simply.
"The businesses under your protection are more profitable now than they were under the old system.
The violence is down. The families who've adopted the reforms are making more money with less risk.
We make it about profit and stability, not about tradition and pride. "
I feel something shift in my chest. It's brilliant. Ruthless in its own way, but without the bloodshed. "We turn this into a business decision instead of a war."
"Exactly." Alina's eyes meet mine, and I see the steel beneath her beauty. "Ivan wants to make this about strength and tradition. We make it about smart business. Show the neutral families that there's more profit in peace than in war."
Yuri leans forward, his expression thoughtful. "We could arrange meetings. Private, one-on-one. Show them our books, let them see the actual numbers."
"And offer them better terms than what Ivan can provide," Borge adds, warming to the idea. "More autonomy, larger profit shares. Make it impossible for them to say no."
Alexei still looks skeptical, but I can see him considering it. "And what about Ivan? We just let him keep taking our territory?"
"We defend what's ours," I say, the plan crystallizing in my mind. "But we do it smart. Legal pressure, economic leverage, political connections. We make it expensive for him to hold what he's taken. Bleed him financially instead of literally."
"It's risky," Alexei says. "If it doesn't work, we'll have lost ground and looked weak doing it."
"And if we go to war, we'll lose men and prove Ivan's point that we're no different than we ever were," I counter. "This way, we have a chance to actually change things."
I look at Alina, seeing the hope and determination in her face.
"We do it Alina's way," I decide. "Borge, start reaching out to the neutral families.
Arrange meetings, but keep them quiet. I want economic analysis on all of Ivan's recent acquisitions.
Find the weak points. Alexei, coordinate with our legal team.
I want to know every regulation, every permit, every piece of leverage we can use. "
Alexei nods slowly. "And if this doesn't work? If Ivan keeps pushing?"
"Then we push back," I say, my voice hard. "But we try this first."
The men file out, leaving me alone with Alina. She moves into my arms, and I hold her close, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair. "Thank you," I murmur against her temple.
I kiss her, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into it. Love and gratitude and fear all mixed together. When I finally release her, we're both breathing hard.
"Come to bed," she says. "You need rest too."
I'm about to agree when my phone buzzes on the desk. I glance at the screen and see it's from one of my most reliable informants. The message is brief, but it makes my blood run cold.
I must go pale because Alina immediately tenses. "What is it?"
I read the message again, hoping I've misunderstood. But the words are clear, unambiguous, and absolutely terrifying.
"Dimitri?" Alina's voice is sharp with concern. "What's wrong?"
I look up at my wife, at the woman carrying my child, at the person who's become the center of my entire world. And I have to tell her that Ivan Volkov has just put a price on her head.
Half a million dollars to anyone who kills the woman who's corrupting the Bratva.