Chapter 35
Ryder
The exhaustion drops over me all at once, like my body has decided it’s done with everything. To be fair, I woke up just after six a.m. and have been out of the house since eight. It’s now just past midnight.
Even if I wasn’t actively growing a tiny human, I’d probably be barely hanging on.
I try to keep talking, to push through it, because this matters, and I finally said it out loud. Liev knows about the baby, about my father, about all of it. And now we need to start planning.
“I can explain the connections,” I murmur, my voice softer than I intend. “There’s a pattern in how they—”
Liev’s hand steadies at my waist, firm but careful. “Tomorrow.”
I want to argue. This is work right now. Tomorrow this shipment will be checked into port by one of our guys and start the long haul north. But the boat rocks gently beneath us, and my eyes burn in a way that has nothing to do with the salt air.
By the time we’re halfway back to shore, I’m barely aware of anything. I’m tucked up against Liev on a bench seat at the back.
I wake just enough to feel movement, the shift from water to solid ground jarring, then arms around me.
Liev carries me like I weigh nothing, his hold secure as he moves through the house.
When did we get off the boat and into a car?
I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to catch the shadowed rooms around us.
His lips press briefly to my forehead.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he murmurs.
I don’t answer. I’m already asleep again.
* * *
A warm, rich scent wakes me—it’s slightly familiar and tantalizing. My mouth waters as I lie there for a second, buried in a surprisingly cool but fluffy comforter.
The events from the night before press in. A swoop of relief in my belly that Liev finally knows, followed quickly by hunger.
God, I’m hungry in a way I haven’t been in a long time.
I push myself up, still groggy, and follow the scent downstairs. Liev is in the kitchen.
That alone is enough to make me pause in the doorway. Okay, maybe it’s something I’ve fantasized about a few times, especially that time he had me on the counter. Marrying into the Bratva, I never expected to find my husband cooking while I slept in.
He’s at the stove, sleeves rolled, moving with the same controlled precision he uses everywhere else, like this is just another operation to manage. There’s food already plated and a glass of water set beside it, perfectly full to the rim. He’s such an uptight perfectionist, it makes me smirk.
I lean against the frame, watching him for a second. “Should I be concerned?”
He doesn’t look surprised that I’m there. “No.”
“That’s usually when I should be,” I reply, pushing off the wall and stepping inside. My gaze flicks over the counter. “Did you sleep at all, or did you stay up preparing this?”
“Some of both,” he says, not turning away from the stove, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
I huff a quiet laugh, pulling out a chair. “You researched.”
“I prefer to be informed.”
I bite my lip, tempted to ask what this was like for him the first time around when Alyona was born. When his ex was pregnant, both of them were so young.
The last twenty-four hours has been trying enough so I decide against it. I mutter instead, “That’s one way to put it. What is all this?”
“Food you can keep down,” he answers simply, setting it in front of me.
Flustered, I can’t meet his eyes this time. I’ve never really been taken care of, not like this.
“I’m not fragile,” I say, picking up a fork. The cartel daughter in me is still warring with the Bratva wife, apparently.
“I didn’t say you were.”
I pause, then take a bite despite myself. It’s good. Annoyingly so.
I glance at him again. “You’re going to be unbearable about this, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to be prepared.”
The answer is immediate and steady, but I see the way he shifts from one foot to the other…
he’s nervous. He’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for me to reject him somehow.
There’s no edge of control in it, no attempt to box me in.
Just a man worried about whether his wife will let him take care of her.
I don’t argue again. Instead, I eat, surprised by how voracious I suddenly am. Especially after last night and losing everything I’d eaten over the side of the boat. When I’m done, I set the fork down, watching Liev pick at bits of breakfast.
“My father didn’t make mistakes,” I say.
Liev leans back slightly against the counter, watching me. “Explain.” He doesn’t tell me to hold off on business talk until later, and a part of me is relieved. I want to nip this in the bud as fast as possible. I can’t imagine being more than three months pregnant and still fighting this battle.
“He outsourced everything,” I continue. “Small syndicates, local crews, people who don’t tie directly back to him.
Each attempt looks separate and disconnected.
If something goes wrong, it dies with them.
But he’s an idiot and didn’t space it out.
Maybe he was hoping it would look like they were just protesting your arrival. ” I shrug.
“And him?” Liev asks.
“Protected. Always one step removed. It keeps his business clean enough to keep working with Kazimir without drawing attention. Hopefully—for him—it takes you out of the equation. Then, he gets Miami back.”
Liev’s expression doesn’t shift much, but I see the calculation behind it. “He expected me to respond to the wrong people.”
“Yes.”
“And waste time chasing ghosts. Which we did.”
“Exactly.”
“He underestimated you,” my husband says eventually, quietly.
I shake my head slightly. I’ve been thinking about this and the conversation with my mother, too. Would Papa really think I wasn’t capable after everything I’ve built for him?
“No. He underestimated that I wouldn’t stay out of it.”
* * *
We’re established here now, and it’s a full house at the meeting. Viktor isn’t far from Liev, and Oleg lingers nearby, just over my shoulder somewhere. I could be annoyed, but the idea of having one of the Bratva avtoritets leading a group of boeviks and watching closely makes me feel safe.
Vivienne is here, tucked into a corner as usual, along with two other avtoritets helping Liev manage this new territory. They’ll report back to the teams they lead later once we fill them in.
Every man in the room knows something is coming, even if they don’t have the full picture yet. Kind of hard to ignore when your boss has almost been murdered several times. In public.
I stand near the table, laptop open, maps and data pulled up across the screen.
Routes, transfers, and financial records that don’t line up unless you know what you’re looking for, and now I do.
My father’s new associates are sprinkled here and there.
Supporting him in his weakest spots, waiting for the Pakhan to fall.
Liev is at the head of the table, and when he raises his chin in my direction, I start talking. Comfortably. Like this is where I’ve always belonged.
“This is how he’s doing it,” I say, pulling up a sequence of transactions. “Different groups, different payouts, but they all trace back through the same layered structure. It branches out enough to hide him, but not enough to be untraceable.”
One of the men shifts. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Liev doesn’t interrupt or correct anything. He lets me lead.
“We don’t go after the surface,” I continue. “We go after the connectors. The people coordinating between these groups. Cut them out, and the whole thing collapses.”
“And we expose him,” Viktor adds. “He’ll lose support as the structure starts to fall.”
“Eventually,” I agree. “If we do it right, this can happen quickly.”
The door opens. Everyone in the room shifts instantly, especially Viktor, but his hand only ghosts over his holster before she’s already stepping in. If she’d had a gun drawn…
Tall, composed, her expression cool and assessing as her gaze sweeps the room once, taking everything in. There’s nothing hesitant about her, nothing uncertain.
“Apologies,” she says, her voice calm. “I dislike being late.”
Liev straightens slightly. “You’re not expected.”
“No,” she agrees. “But I was sent. By Konstantin.”
There’s a subtle shift in the room, the name carrying weight even here. It’s not easy to forget the imposing man we met a few weeks ago who dragged a body into our foyer.
“Olena,” she adds in explanation.
Liev studies her for a moment, then nods once.
“Then you’re welcome.” How strange, from my perspective, the way the Bratva trust one another.
When this is all over, I want to look into Konstantin Martynov and find out exactly what kind of man he is.
For a New York City mogul, he seems interested in this back-alley weapons trading we’re running up the coast. Maybe there’s something there, especially if he’s sending us support.
Olena’s gaze moves again, slower this time, more deliberate. It lands on Vivienne and lingers.
Vivienne doesn’t move, but something flickers in her expression. Recognition? Interest? I clock it and raise a brow, glancing at Liev, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed.
Olena slips into an empty chair in the conference room and trains her eyes on the presentation. Semion, one of the avtoritets, catches her up in a whisper.
We move through it piece by piece, building something solid out of fragments. Routes to intercept. Accounts to freeze. People to watch.
A trap that my father won’t notice until it’s too late. Not reactive, the way we’ve been playing the game this whole time. No, this time we’ll be in control.
Liev takes over and gives firm orders on who needs to be where and when to catch the falling pieces. I’m starting to feel the all-too-familiar exhaustion set in, followed shortly by annoyance when my cell buzzes.
Not my normal phone, but one I picked up late this morning.
Slipping it out, I read and re-read the number and message on the screen. It isn’t a familiar number to me, but I’ve seen the name in the paper countless times before.
I’m not going to ask how you got my contact information. But if this is real, I’m interested.
I stare down at the words, balancing between fate and stepping away back into a quiet, ignorant life where I could lose things at any moment.
My husband. My life.
The room clears slowly. Olena stands to introduce herself to Viktor, with Vivienne watching, eyes narrowed. I wait until the bodies file out, murmuring quietly about their instructions. Liev and I lock eyes.
My pulse quickens.
“I made contact,” I say.