17. Aleksandr #3
A heavy hand slams down onto my shoulder, pinning me in place with casual, unyielding strength. The impact jars the fresh stitches. I hiss, but he doesn’t flinch.
“If you want any guarantee about getting your wife back, you need to talk to Nikolai. Nothing can be done otherwise,” he says.
I know that. I’ve run the scenarios in my head since that SUV disappeared around that corner.
The issue is Malyshko doesn’t forgive defiance, nor does he negotiate with sentiment.
He calculates risk and eliminates variables that threaten the balance he’s spent years enforcing.
Katerina is just that, a variable now. The gala footage will already be spreading like wildfire across every news feed and private channel in Moscow.
If I go in guns blazing without his blessing, I’m not just risking my own neck.
I’m risking my alliance with the entire Pact as a whole.
But… that knowledge doesn’t stop me from retrieving my phone anyway.
My fingers are still clumsy from shock and blood loss, the front of my phone smeared with dried crimson as I swipe it open. The device is cracked from the fight, lines spiderwebbing across the upper right corner. I pull up Malyshko’s number, thumb hovering over it for half a second.
Sasha remains a statue at my side.
I hit call and put the phone up to my ear. He answers on the first ring as if he’s been expecting it.
“Aleksandr.” His voice is calm. Too calm for my liking.
I swallow once, forcing my tongue to work. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the news already.”
A beat of silence stretches down the line long enough for me to hear the faint background hum of whatever secure line he’s using. Probably the one in his private study, the one lined with soundproofed walls and encrypted relays.
“It’s trending worldwide,” he finally says. There is no inflection in his tone. He speaks as though he’s reading a weather report instead of our anonymity being detonated in real time.
I close my eyes for a second, leaning back slightly as my free hand wraps around the edge of the counter. The stitches pull tight at my side, a warning pain that reminds me I’m still bleeding despite Sasha’s handiwork.
I ignore it.
“She’s… been taken. Ramil’s men snatched her up from the venue and took her somewhere. I lost them while I was tailing them. I have no idea where they’ve taken her.”
He says nothing to that. I can picture him—motionless in that high-backed chair, fingers clenching tightly around one armrest, the other holding the phone up to his ear, ice-gray eyes fixed on nothing while he runs every single slight I’ve ever made against him.
I swallow again. “I need help—”
He cuts me off. “You were warned. Multiple times.”
I breathe in slowly through my nose. “I was.”
“And yet here we are.”
“I’m not calling to argue semantics,” I tell him.
“This isn’t just my problem anymore. The gala footage is everywhere.
Every major outlet was there when it happened.
With my name being mentioned, they’ll start connecting the dots.
If you help me take Borchin down, we can stop this before it gets worse. ”
His voice grows cold, the first shred of anger leaking through. “You think you can bargain with me now? After disregarding everything I said would happen?”
“I think you want him neutralized as much as I do,” I counter.
“He’s a liability. The documents I gathered proved that.
If he isn’t dealt with, the news will keep cycling.
Every time they replay that clip of Katerina on stage, my name will be brought up and it will only encourage them to dig deeper. They’ll find us eventually.”
“This is your own mess to deal with, Aleksandr. You will not have the Pact behind you. I told you that from the start. I will not change my mind about it now. Instead, I will be cleaning up the mess you dragged us all into. All of our main contacts have been calling me. You’ve turned a private indiscretion into a public spectacle.
And now you want me to hand you resources I don't have to fix it?”
My grip on the counter tightens until my knuckles ache. “All I’m asking for is enough manpower to find her and get her out. Once that happens, we can bomb the whole goddamn street for all I care.”
“No,” he growls.
That single syllable feels like a door slamming shut in my face.
“But—”
The line goes dead.
I pull the phone back slowly, staring at the screen as it dims to black.
The spiderweb of cracks fractures my reflection into jagged pieces.
Bloodshot eyes stare back at me, sweat-slicked hair clinging to my forehead in uneven patches.
The face staring back at me doesn’t belong to the Pakhan who has maintained an empire with unshakeable control.
All I see now is someone desperate.
No Pact.
No safety net.
None but my own men to use.
Sasha watches me silently.
For the first time in my entire life, the power I’ve cultivated, the influence that once could bend entire systems to my will, means nothing against what I’m about to lose.
The most terrifying part isn’t that I’m outmatched.
It’s that I have nothing left to help me get her back.