Chapter 10
Dimitri
SONG: THRONE BY brING ME THE HORIZON
Ionescu sang like a canary with a gun to its head.
Which was fitting, since that's exactly what Boris was holding when I walked into the basement.
The information came in pieces. Names. Dates.
Drop locations. Most of it confirmed what we already suspected.
Ionescu had been buying intel from someone inside our operations.
Someone who knew meeting times and shipment routes and security rotations.
The part that made my blood run cold? Half the information he'd sold came from meetings where Giuseppe's people had been present.
"Who's your source?" I asked for the third time.
Ionescu's face was a mess. Boris had been enthusiastic in his questioning. Blood ran from his nose, and his left eye had swollen shut.
"I told you. I don't know names. Just a voice on the phone."
"Accent?"
"Could be Italian. Could be Russian faking Italian. I don't fucking know."
I believed him. Ionescu was a middleman.
Smart enough to make money, stupid enough to get caught.
The real puppet master stayed hidden behind burner phones and dead drops.
But the timing was damning. Every leak coincided with Italian presence in our territory.
Which meant either someone in Giuseppe's family was a traitor, or they were being followed by someone who was.
Either way, I needed to know if Giulia had seen or heard anything.
If her family had mentioned doubts about the alliance.
If Geraldo's public tantrum at the wedding had been just alcohol and grief or something more calculated.
I needed to talk to my wife.
The drive to Scotsdale took forty minutes. Plenty of time to rehearse what I'd say. How I'd approach this without accusing her directly. Keep it professional. Keep my distance.
The gates opened when my car approached. The guards recognized my vehicle. One of them looked surprised to see me. Guess word had spread that the Pakhan didn't visit his own house.
The mansion looked different in daylight.
Less cold. Spring flowers bloomed in the gardens Margaret maintained.
Through the windows I could see warm lights and signs of actual life.
I'd bought this place sight unseen. Told my realtor I needed something secure and far from the city.
She'd shown me photos and I'd wired the money.
Never set foot inside until this moment.
The front door opened before I could knock. Margaret stood there with an expression that managed to convey both professional courtesy and deep disapproval.
"Mr. Morozov. We weren't expecting you."
"Is my wife home?"
"She's in the library." Margaret stepped aside to let me enter. "Should I tell her you're here?"
"I'll tell her myself."
I moved through the house following the sound of classical music. Something Russian, Rachmaninoff maybe. The library doors were open.
Giulia sat in a leather chair with her legs tucked under her.
She wore jeans and a Columbia sweatshirt that had seen better days.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot.
Reading glasses perched on her nose as she scribbled notes in a journal.
Papers covered the coffee table in front of her.
Organizational charts. Personnel files. The information she'd requested from my security team.
She was studying my world like it was a fucking research project.
Something about that image hit me wrong.
Or maybe right. I couldn't tell anymore.
She looked up and saw me. Her eyes went wide. The pen fell from her hand.
"Dimitri."
My name in her voice. Like she'd forgotten how to say it and was testing the shape of it again.
"We need to talk."
She uncurled from the chair and stood. Put the journal aside carefully, like she was buying time to compose herself. "About what?"
"There's been a leak. Someone's selling our operational information to our enemies." I moved into the room but kept distance between us. Professional distance. "I need to know if you've heard anything from your family. Anything that might indicate who's responsible."
Her face went pale. "You think it's my family?"
"I think the timing is suspicious. Every leak has happened after your father's people were present at our meetings."
"So you came here to accuse me?" Her voice was flat, cold. "To interrogate your wife like a suspect."
"I came here to ask questions. If I was interrogating you, this would look very different."
"Questions that assume I'm either a traitor or related to one." She crossed her arms. "Did it occur to you to call? Or is ambushing me in my prison more your style?"
Prison. The word landed like a punch.
"This isn't a prison."
"No?" She gestured around. "I have guards watching my every move. Staff reporting everything I do to God knows who. I can't leave without permission. Can't see my family without supervision. But sure. Not a prison at all."
"You're being protected."
"I'm being isolated." Her eyes flashed with something that looked like anger. Good. Anger was better than the sad resignation I'd seen on the security feeds. "And now you show up unannounced to accuse my family of betrayal. How is this my life?"
I should have felt defensive. Should have doubled down on the accusation. Instead, I just felt tired.
"I'm not accusing you. I'm asking if you know anything."
"About what? I've been locked away here for almost a week. The only people I talk to are Margaret and Helen and the guards who follow me around the property." She moved closer. "What exactly do you think I know?"
"Your cousin, Geraldo, he made his feelings about the alliance very clear at the wedding."
"Geraldo is angry and grieving. That doesn't make him a traitor."
"Anger makes people do stupid things."
"Like marrying someone and then abandoning them?" The question came out sharp and pointed.
Fair.
"This isn't about us."
"Everything is about us, Dimitri. We're the alliance. The thing holding your Bratva and my family together." She laughed but there was no humor in it. "Except you don't want a wife. You want a political prisoner you can parade out when necessary and hide away when she becomes inconvenient."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" She was close enough now that I could see the dark circles under her eyes.
The way her Columbia sweatshirt hung loose like she'd lost weight.
"You slept with me once. Then you sent me here and haven't spoken to me since.
Maxim checks in because you can't be bothered.
The staff treats me like glass that might shatter.
And now you show up to ask if my family is betraying you. "
Every word was accurate. Every word made me feel like shit.
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"From what? My own life?" She shook her head. "I gave up everything for this alliance. My school. My friends. My future. I did it because Papa asked me to. Because people were dying. And you can't even be honest with me about what's happening."
"You want honesty?" The words came out harsher than I'd intended.
"Fine. Someone in your family or someone watching your family is selling us out.
Three of my men were wounded because of it.
We lost two million in product. And if I can't plug this leak, more people will die.
So, yes, I need to know if you've heard anything.
If Geraldo or anyone else in your family has said something that might point to who's responsible. "
She stared at me for a long moment, then she moved back to the coffee table and picked up one of the organizational charts. "I've been reading about the Bratva," she said quietly. "Trying to understand how it works. The hierarchy. The structure. Your key people."
"I know. My security team told me."
"Did they tell you why?"
"No."
She turned the chart to face me. It was covered in her handwriting.
Notes. Questions. Observations. "Because I realized something after you left me here.
I don't know anything about your world. About the people you work with, the enemies you face, or the way your organization operates.
" She pointed to a name on the chart. "This is Yuri, your oldest captain.
He questioned your leadership at a meeting two weeks ago, made it clear he doesn't trust you. "
"How do you know about that?"
"Because I asked for the meeting minutes. For every meeting since you became Pakhan." She pulled out another paper. "Viktor, loyal but aggressive, has a tendency to act first and think later. Alexei, smart, cautious, good with numbers but bad with people."
I stared at the notes. At the analysis she'd done. It was accurate. Disturbingly so.
"And Maxim?" I asked.
"Your best friend. Your most loyal soldier. The only person you actually trust." She met my eyes. "He asks about me every day, wants to know if I need anything, if I'm okay. He does that because you won't."
Guilt twisted in my chest again, sharper this time. "You still haven't answered my question. Have you heard anything from your family?"
"No." She set the papers down. "My family doesn't talk to me about business. They never have. Papa kept me separate from that world. And now you're doing the same thing."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because I'm trying to protect you from knowing too much. From getting caught in the crossfire if this goes bad."
She laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was bitter and broken.
"Dimitri. I'm already in the crossfire. I became part of this the second I said 'I do.
'" She moved closer again. Close enough that I could smell her shampoo, something floral and clean.
"You can't protect me by keeping me ignorant.
That just makes me vulnerable. If you want me to survive in your world, you need to teach me how it works. "
She was right. The realization hit me hard.