Chapter 30 MAKSIM
MAKSIM
I sit behind my desk, reviewing notes for the meeting that's about to take place. Zakhar occupies one of the chairs across from me, going through his own files. Alexei stands near the window, ostensibly looking out at the city, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere.
There's something different about them this morning.
The twins are usually coiled tension. Alert. Watchful. Ready for violence at a moment's notice. It's the default state they've maintained since we were boys on Moscow's streets.
But today, there's a looseness to them. A softness around the edges that I haven't seen before.
Zakhar's shoulders aren't quite as rigid. The permanent furrow between his brows has smoothed slightly. Even his silence feels different. Content instead of vigilant.
Alexei's restless energy has mellowed into something calmer. He's not pacing. Not drumming his fingers. Just standing there with an expression that could almost be called peaceful.
I know what caused the shift. Or rather, who.
Victoria must still be sleeping upstairs. In whose bed, I can only guess. But clearly, something happened between the three of them last night. Something that left my brothers looking satisfied in ways that have nothing to do with violence or victory.
A pang of something uncomfortably close to envy cuts through me.
I want that too. Want a few hours of her attention. Want to lose myself in her. Want to feel her body against mine and hear my name on her lips and forget, just for a moment, about enemies circling and businesses bleeding and the constant weight of leadership.
But these past few days have been grueling. Every waking hour dedicated to investigating threats, shoring up defenses, preparing for this meeting with Luan Krasniqi. There's been no time for anything else. No space for wanting when survival demands all my attention.
Soon, I promise myself. When this crisis is resolved and we've eliminated the threats against us, I'll take time with her. Make her understand exactly how much she's come to mean to me.
"How's the security guard?" I ask Alexei, pulling my mind back to business.
He turns from the window. "Out of the woods. Doctors say with time he'll make a full recovery."
Relief loosens something in my chest. "Good. And his family?"
"Taken care of. Medical bills paid. Salary continuing during his recovery. The wife and kid have everything they need." Alexei's voice carries satisfaction. "They know we don't abandon our people."
I nod approval, then turn to Zakhar. "Progress on finding Eryan Nis?"
His expression tightens fractionally. The contentment from earlier dimming under frustration. "Not much. I found a connection between his operations and a company called C.H.T. Onix. Registered in the Cayman Islands."
"And?"
"Dead end so far. Shell company. Multiple layers of protection. Whoever set it up knew what they were doing." He sets down the file he was reviewing. "I'm still digging, but it's slow work."
The information sits heavy. We're being attacked on multiple fronts by an enemy we can't identify.
"How do you want to handle Luan?" Alexei asks, moving closer to the desk.
"With caution." I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers. "There's clearly no love lost between him and Ramiz. We saw that when he helped us escape the ambush. The question is whether that rift is genuine or performance."
"And if it's genuine?" Zakhar prompts.
"Then we exploit it." I say it simply. "An enemy's enemy can be a useful tool. Luan has something against his father. We find out what, and we position ourselves to help him in exchange for information and cooperation."
"And if he's playing us?" Alexei's voice carries the particular edge it gets when he's contemplating violence.
"Then we deal with him accordingly." I check my watch. "He should be here soon. When I suggested this meeting, he was surprisingly accommodating."
"That makes me nervous," Zakhar says.
"Me too." I admit. "But we need information, and he's our best source. So we take the risk."
We fall into silence. Each of us running through scenarios, contingencies, the various ways this meeting could go and how we'll respond to each possibility.
A knock at the door interrupts our preparation.
"Enter," I call.
One of our men opens the door. "Luan Krasniqi, sir."
"Show him in."
Luan enters with the confidence of someone who knows his value. He's dressed impeccably. Tailored suit. Expensive cologne that fills the room. His expression is carefully neutral, revealing nothing.
We all stand for the handshake. The ritual of civility before potentially hostile negotiations.
I gesture to the chair across from my desk. "Please, sit."
He does. Zakhar takes the other chair. Alexei moves to stand behind me, positioning himself near the window but within easy reach if it becomes necessary.
I settle behind my desk. Let the silence stretch for a moment, establishing that this is my territory, my meeting, my rules.
"Thank you for coming," I begin. "I wanted this meeting because a series of events have occurred lately targeting both sides of the Severyn organization. I have reason to believe the Krasniqi family is involved."
Luan's expression doesn't change. "What leads you to that conclusion?"
"Your father believes I interfered with his arrangement with Arthur Ainsley."
"Didn't you?" Luan asks, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. He pauses, then adds with deliberate casualness, "You did marry the man's daughter, after all. That's quite the interference."
The mention of Victoria makes all three of us tense. Alexei's hand moves fractionally toward his weapon. Zakhar goes very still. I feel my own jaw tighten.
Luan notices. Of course he does. That was the point.
I force myself to stay calm. Measured. "Perhaps in a way, I did interfere. But Ramiz will still get his money. Arthur Ainsley's debt will be repaid."
"With interest, I'm sure," Luan says dryly.
"There's also the small matter of your father trying to ambush us in his home," Alexei adds from behind me, voice hard. "That seems like a rather direct act of aggression."
Something shifts in Luan's expression. The neutral mask cracks slightly, revealing venom underneath.
"My father is an old son of a bitch stuck in old ways," he says, each word carrying barely contained fury. "But you won't need to worry about him much longer."
Zakhar leans forward slightly. "What does that mean?"
"I'm not in a position to share specifics at this moment." Luan's tone becomes cryptic. "But soon, you'll understand. You'll need to trust me on this."
Alexei scoffs. "We didn't get where we are by trusting people."
"Fair point." Luan nods, accepting the logic. "So let me give you something that might change your mind about my intentions."
He has our full attention now.
"I know you're hunting for Eryan Nis," he continues. "I'm in a position to help you find him."
My pulse kicks up, but I keep my expression neutral. "How?"
"I have information that Eryan Nis operates through a company called C.H.T. Onix. Registered in the Cayman Islands."
Zakhar and I share a look. That's the same information he already uncovered.
"We're already aware of that connection," Zakhar says carefully.
"I thought you might be." Luan stands, buttons his jacket with precise movements. "But what you probably don't know is that C.H.T. Onix is owned by another company. Furies Corporation."
The name means nothing to me.
Luan continues, and I can see him savoring this moment. The reveal he's been building toward.
"Furies Corporation owns multiple commercial properties in Chicago. High-end establishments, mostly." He pauses, letting anticipation build. "Maison Lyra. Luma Pilates. Serenity Spa. Beaumont Atelier."
My blood goes cold.
"All frequented by your wife," Luan finishes, voice soft. "Almost daily, in fact. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?"
Victoria. Connected to Furies Corporation. Which owns C.H.T. Onix. Which is linked to Eryan Nis.
My mind races through implications, connections, patterns that suddenly snap into sharp, devastating focus.
No.
It can't be.
But even as I try to deny it, the evidence aligns with brutal clarity.
Luan watches us process the information. Watches our faces as understanding dawns. Watches the moment belief becomes unavoidable.
"I'll leave you gentlemen to discuss this among yourselves," he says, moving toward the door. "When you're ready to talk about mutual interests and future cooperation, you know how to reach me."
He leaves. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
Silence fills the office. Heavy. Suffocating. Loaded with implications none of us want to voice.