Chapter Eight #2
"The Vipers think we're distracted. They think debts and politics make us weak. They're wrong. We don't bend, we break those who test us."
Mikhail growled eagerly. "Then let me break them tonight."
"Not yet," I said. "We wait, and we watch. Someone's feeding them information. A mole."
That got their attention, even Konstantin's head lifted. Roman frowned. "You're certain?"
"I'm never uncertain." I crushed out the cigarette. "They move too close, too fast. They know things they shouldn't. One of ours leaks, and until we find the rat, we strike nothing. We hold ground."
Mikhail shoved his chair back, restless, pacing like a caged animal. "Hold ground while they circle us? That's weakness."
I let my gaze pin him. "That's patience. Something you should learn before your temper costs us all."
Roman's fists clenched, but he didn't respond. He muttered something under his breath about the family tearing itself apart faster than any enemy.
Through it all, Emilia stood rigid. I knew this world was crushing her innocence, piece by piece. But I also knew she was steel buried under all that softness. I could feel it when her breath slowed, and she lifted her chin again, eyes gazing steadily at the men surrounding her.
She whispered so low only I could hear, though her lips barely moved. "Could the mole be my father?"
I stiffened, my hand tightening on her waist. My brothers looked over, curious at her whisper, but I didn't repeat it. That question wasn't for them; it was for me.
And I had no answer yet. The meeting dragged on long into the night. Maps were folded, files closed, glasses drained, and refilled. But no one left the table.
The word 'mole' hung over us like thick smoke.
Mikhail's pacing grew worse, his boots striking the floor like gunshots.
Roman massaged his temple, already calculating which of our allies could be entreated.
Konstantin hadn't moved at all. He sat still, a storm building within him, his eyes fixed on the flame of the candle as if it whispered secrets.
And Emilia... stayed pressed at my side. She hadn't run. Hadn't asked to leave. That was something.
Roman broke the silence first. "If there's a leak, it's not from this table. That means someone lower, someone with ears in the street."
Mikhail barked out a bitter laugh. "Or maybe higher. You think the Vipers don't have politicians in their pockets? You think the senator hasn't sold us out already?"
The word senator sliced through me like a knife. Romano.
I felt Emilia flinch against me. Her breath caught, soft but sharp, like the sound of glass breaking. She looked at me, her wide brown eyes searching for an answer.
I gave her none, not here. As I stood, I pulled her gently back into the chair I had just vacated. "Stay," I ordered, my voice low and dangerous. Then to my brothers, "Keep talking. I'll hear your plans when I return.”
I walked out, shutting the heavy door behind me. The hallway stretched long and dark, my footsteps echoing. I needed a cigarette, and maybe a bullet through someone's head. Preferably Romano's.
"Viktor!" Her voice was too loud, echoing against the walls around us. She hurried after me, her small frame nearly swallowed by the corridor.
Spinning around, I caught her wrist before she could speak again. I pressed her back against the wall, one hand braced beside her head. The other gripped her chin.
"What did I tell you about following me?"
Her chest rapidly rose and fell, but her voice didn't shake as she spoke.
"You think my father's the mole, don't you?"
Her eyes burned with something fierce. It was fear, but it was also more than that. Anger and desperation.
I leaned close, so close I could almost feel her lips.
"I think your father is a coward who sold his soul to every devil who offered him a coin. I think he'd slit his own daughter's throat if it bought him another election."
She swallowed hard. "Then why not kill him already?"
And for a moment, I just stared. No one, not even my brothers, had asked me that so directly.
My hand slid from her chin to her throat, not choking, just holding. Claiming.
"Because dead men are useless. Alive, your father is leverage. Alive, he's bait. He drags the snakes out of hiding. And until I decide otherwise, he lives."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her pulse beat fast against my palm.
Finally, she whispered, "You're using him. Just like you're using me."
That struck deep. I felt the fury rise, sharp and hot. Slamming my fist into the wall beside her head, the plaster cracked under the blow. She gasped, but she didn't move.
I lowered my mouth to her ear. "You are not him. Don't you ever compare yourself to that worm of a man."
She looked me in the eye again, her voice was quiet and unyielding. "Then what am I, Viktor? Your wife? Your prisoner? Your queen? Or just a weapon you use when you need it?"
Every word cut, not because they were lies, but because they were questions I didn’t have the answers to.
I pressed my forehead against hers, my grip tightening on her waist. "You're mine. That is all you need to know. Mine to protect, mine to punish, mine to keep alive, even if I have to burn your father and his enemies to ash."
Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us; it was heavy with everything we didn't say.
Then, her small hand lifted, trembling, and pressed against my chest. Right over my heart.
"Then, prove it. Don't just say I'm yours. Show me I'm not just another pawn."
Something snapped inside me then, something I didn't want to name. I crushed my mouth against hers, savagely claiming, the way a starving man seizes bread. She gasped against me, but her arms came up, gripping my shoulders, holding on like she refused to drown.
When I tore away from her, both of us were breathing hard. My forehead rested against hers as I growled,
"Don't ever question what you are to me again. I could have killed you the night I took you, but I didn't. You’re standing here because I chose to make you mine. And God help anyone who tries to take you from me."
Her eyes shimmered, not with fear, but something else, something that made my chest feel too tight.
She whispered, "Then kill the mole before he kills you."
I froze because she didn't realize the weight of her words. She had stepped into the fire and spoken like she belonged there.
I pulled back, releasing her throat, but keeping her hand trapped against my chest.
"You think I don't intend to?" I said, my smile sharp and humorless. "When I find him, Emilia, he'll beg for death long before I give it."
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Mikhail appeared; his expression was sour.
"Viktor, enough of your lovers' quarrels. We've got business. The Vipers aren't waiting for you to finish kissing your bride."
Emilia flushed, but I didn't let her step away. I turned, keeping her close to my side as I answered him.
"They won't have to wait long. Once I find out who feeds them secrets, I'll send their boss the traitor's head in a box."
Mikhail smirked. "That's the Viktor I know."
I didn't miss the way Emilia stiffened, her hand slipping from my chest. I didn't stop her, not yet.
But later... later I would remind her that mine was not just a word. It was the law.
*********
The night stretched long as we gathered again in the war room. The air stank of smoke and sweat, tension so sharp that it cut deeper than knives. Papers littered the table, names, shipments, debts... but none of it mattered. Not really, not when my gut screamed louder than all the reports.
The mole was close, closer than any of us wanted to admit.
Roman leaned over a map; his voice low. "If the Vipers know our routes, they'll aim for the Brooklyn docks. We can't move without exposing ourselves."
Mikhail spat into a glass and slammed it down. "Then we fight, simple."
Konstantin finally spoke, his deep voice rolling like thunder. "Simple gets us killed."
The brothers argued back and forth, their voices rising. I listened, but my eyes weren't on them. They were focused on her.
Emilia sat in the same corner as before, quiet but no longer shrinking. She was listening, really listening. Her gaze flicked between us like she was learning a language made of blood and violence.
For a second, something dangerous coiled in me. It wasn't anger or rage, but something worse.
It was pride. I shouldn't feel it. She was meant to be collateral, leverage, nothing more. But she sat there with her spine straight, and her chin lifted, and I thought... she looks like she belongs here.
I dragged in a breath, tearing my gaze away before it betrayed me.
And that was when the glass shattered. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.
Instinct took over. I moved without thinking, without breathing.
I hooked an arm around Emilia, yanking her from her chair and slamming her to the floor beneath me as shards of glass rained down.
A bullet hissed through the air, embedding itself deep in the wall where her head had been.
Chaos exploded, and Mikhail roared, overturning the table for cover. Roman ducked low, cursing and pulling his pistol free. Konstantin was already at the window, silently scanning the rooftops.
Emilia gasped under me, trembling, her hands clutching my shirt like she didn't know if she was alive or dead.
I pressed her down harder, shielding her body with mine. My voice was ice.
"Stay down. Don't you move, Emilia. Not for a second."
Her lips parted, but I didn't let her speak. Another bullet cracked against the wall, splintering wood.
"Sniper!" Mikhail bellowed. "Top floor, east building!"
"Cover!" Roman snapped.
Men dove, guns drawn, and shadows shifting fast. But I barely noticed them. My focus was narrow, razor-sharp, locked on the girl trembling beneath me.
Hair stuck to her cheeks, her chest heaved, and her eyes were wide with shock. It was fear, pure and simple. And still, she looked at me like I was the only thing holding her to this world.
And she was right. I cupped the back of her head; my body was a shield. Another round cracked the glass above us, spraying shards across the floor. One sliced my cheek, and warm blood dripped down.
Her voice was a whisper, and it was shaking. "Viktor..."
"I've got you," I growled. "No one touches you, no one."
Mikhail shouted something about flanking positions. Roman barked orders to the guards flooding the hall. Konstantin fired a shot through the shattered window. Then it was as calm as death itself.
But all I heard was her breathing, and it was fast, shallow, and desperate.
I bent close, my lips at her ear. "They came for me. They aimed for you, and that was their mistake."
Her fingers gripped tighter at my shirt. She tried to speak, but the words died when another shot split the air.
Rage boiled hot in my veins, and it was sharper than any wound. Whoever had dared aim at her, whoever thought she was my weakness... had just signed their own death warrant.
I looked up, past the broken glass, into the night beyond. My voice came out low, a promise forged in stone. "I'll find you, I'll drag you from your nest, and I'll make you bleed for thinking you could take what's mine."
The room fell into silence except for the ring of the last shot. Guards shouted outside, but the sniper was gone, a ghost in the night.
I stayed where I was, hiding Emilia beneath me until her trembling slowed, until her breath steadied enough that I could hear her stubborn little heart beating in her chest.
Only then did I lift my head; my hand was still firm on her back. She looked at me, her lips parted, her eyes widened with something new... something more than fear.
Maybe trust, maybe something more dangerous. I tightened my hold and whispered one final vow, too quiet for my brothers to hear.
"They'll have to kill me before they’ll ever be able to touch you."
The bullet hole in the wall smoked behind us, a sign that the war had truly started.