Chapter 51 Alina
ALINA
The warehouse smells like old concrete and motor oil, a far cry from the luxury I've grown accustomed to at Dimitri's estate. But this place has history. According to Alexei, Bratva tribunals have been held here for over thirty years.
I stand beside Dimitri near the front of the cavernous space, my hand resting protectively over my stomach.
The baby is fine after last night's ambush, but I can't stop the instinctive gesture.
Around us, representatives from every major family fill the rows of folding chairs that have been set up for the occasion.
The atmosphere is thick with tension and cigarette smoke.
Dimitri's hand finds the small of my back, warm and reassuring.
He looks devastating in his dark suit, his green eyes sharp and alert as he surveys the room.
The scar above his left eyebrow catches the harsh fluorescent light.
I want to reach up and trace it with my fingers, to remind myself that he's real, that we've survived everything thrown at us so far.
"You shouldn't be here," he murmurs in my ear, his accent thicker than usual. It always gets that way when he's stressed.
"We've been over this," I whisper back. "I'm not hiding anymore."
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. He knows I'm right. If I hide every time there's danger, I'll spend my entire life locked away.
Ivan Volkov enters through the main doors, flanked by his remaining allies.
His silver hair is perfectly styled, his blue eyes cold as they sweep over the assembled families before landing on me.
His lip curls in disgust. I lift my chin and meet his gaze without flinching. I've faced down worse than him.
An older man I don't recognize steps forward. He's apparently the neutral arbiter for this tribunal, chosen because he has no allegiance to either Dimitri or Ivan. His voice booms through the warehouse as he calls the proceedings to order.
The rules are explained in both English and Russian. Each side will present their case. The families will vote. The decision is final and binding. Anyone who violates the tribunal's ruling will be considered an enemy of the entire Bratva.
Ivan goes first. He's a good speaker, I'll give him that. His voice is smooth and persuasive as he lays out his accusations against Dimitri.
"Dimitri Morozov has abandoned the traditions that have kept our organization strong for generations," Ivan begins, pacing in front of the assembled families like a lawyer in a courtroom.
"He has allowed women into leadership discussions, treating them as equals when they should be protected and kept separate from our business. "
His eyes flick to me, and I feel the weight of dozens of gazes following. I keep my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me react.
"He has brought chaos and death," Ivan continues. "Viktor Popov, a respected member of our community, was murdered. Mikhail Volkov, my cousin, was killed. Under Dimitri's leadership, we have seen more bloodshed than in the previous ten years combined."
I want to scream that Viktor was a traitor who tried to have his own daughters killed, that Mikhail orchestrated a massacre at my wedding. But this isn't my moment to speak.
"Dimitri Morozov has grown weak," Ivan says, his voice dropping to something almost sympathetic. "He has allowed his feelings for his wife to cloud his judgment. He is no longer fit to lead."
When Ivan finishes, there's murmuring throughout the warehouse. Some families nod in agreement. Others look skeptical.
Then it's Dimitri's turn.
He doesn't pace or perform. He simply stands in the center of the space, his presence commanding attention without effort. When he speaks, his voice is calm and measured.
"Ivan Volkov speaks of tradition, but he conveniently forgets which traditions have nearly destroyed us," Dimitri begins.
"Mikhail Volkov manipulated us all, turned families against each other, orchestrated murders to serve his own agenda.
I ended that threat. Viktor Popov betrayed his own family, sold his daughter to our enemies, and conspired in the church massacre that killed my nephew and fifteen others. I ended that threat too."
He pauses, letting his words sink in.
"Ivan speaks of chaos, but what he calls chaos, I call housecleaning. The Bratva was rotting from within, and I cut out the infection before it could spread further."
Dimitri's eyes sweep across the assembled families.
"I have proposed reforms that benefit everyone.
More autonomy for each family. A council system for major decisions.
An end to practices that make us vulnerable to law enforcement and public scrutiny.
These changes don't weaken us. They make us stronger, smarter, more sustainable. "
He gestures toward me, and I feel my cheeks flush.
"My wife has proven herself in ways that many men in this room have not.
She survived an assassination attempt at her own wedding.
She uncovered her father's betrayal. She stood beside me when Mikhail Volkov tried to destroy everything we've built.
To dismiss her because of her gender is to dismiss strength, intelligence, and loyalty. That is true weakness."
The murmuring grows louder. I can see some of the older bosses shaking their heads, but several of the younger generation are nodding.
The arbiter calls for the vote. Each family head stands and declares their position. My heart pounds as I count. It's close. Too close.
When the final vote is tallied, Dimitri wins by a margin of three families.
Ivan's face goes purple with rage. For a moment, I think he might attack Dimitri right here, tribunal rules be damned. But he's smarter than that. He spins on his heel and storms toward the exit, his remaining allies scrambling to follow.
"This isn't over, Morozov," he snarls over his shoulder.
Dimitri doesn't respond. He simply takes my hand and leads me toward the door.
We're almost to our car when a man in a dark jacket approaches. I recognize him as one of Ivan's lieutenants. Dimitri tenses, his hand moving toward the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket.
The man holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I have information," he says quietly, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else is listening. "About Ivan's next move." He pauses. "For a price."