Chapter 10 – Timofey
A week after the wedding, we find a rhythm. Not a comfortable one. Not even a real one. Just…something in between.
We have breakfast together every morning. It’s the only consistent thing. Same table. Same quiet. Same careful distance.
Then the rest of the day, we exist like strangers forced into the same orbit.
We share a room.
We sleep on the same bed.
But that’s all it is.
Sleep. No lingering touches. No conversations that go deeper than necessary. We move around each other like we’re both pretending the other isn’t there. Like that wedding night didn’t happen. Like it didn’t change anything.
My jaw tightens slightly at the thought.
Because it did.
And that’s exactly the problem.
I sit in my office, going over reports I’ve already read twice.
Numbers. Shipments. Movement across territories.
Everything is running as it should.
Everything is under control.
Except….
Her.
My pen stills against the paper as her face pushes into my mind again.
Uninvited.
Persistent.
Annoying.
How one woman managed to walk into my life and disrupt everything in less than two weeks—
I don’t understand it.
I don’t like it.
And I want it handled.
Finished.
My grip tightens slightly around the pen.
Anton is the problem.
He’s the variable that turned a clean arrangement into something complicated.
End him. And everything goes back to how it should be.
Valeria goes her way.
I go mine.
This…partnership ends.
The thought should sit well with me.
It should feel like relief.
Instead, there’s something else.
Something I don’t bother trying to name.
A sharp knock sounds at the door before I can think too deeply about it.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and Lukyan steps inside.
I don’t miss the urgency on his face.
That alone is enough to straighten my posture.
“What?”
He doesn’t waste time.
He crosses the room in a few quick strides and stops in front of my desk, his expression dark, shoulders tight like he’s holding something heavy in place.
“Intel just came in,” he says. “I had some of my men watching out for Anton.”
“Okay?”
He exhales once before continuing.
“Several soldiers connected to Anton Petrov have been spotted in the city.”
My fingers still against the desk.
Not random. Not scattered.
Placed.
“How many?” I ask.
“Enough to notice a pattern,” Lukyan replies. “They’re not moving like outsiders. They’re coordinated.”
A beat.
“They’re infiltrating New York City for Valeria.”
The word settles between us like a loaded weapon.
My jaw tightens.
Anton didn’t just send a warning.
He sent men.
Into my city.
Into my territory.
I lean back slightly, processing fast, mapping it out in my head.
This isn’t about fear anymore.
It’s positioning.
Preparation.
War.
“If Anton has boots on the ground here…” I murmur.
Lukyan nods once. “Then this isn’t contained to Russia anymore.”
No.
It isn’t.
I go still for a second.
Because that changes everything.
This is no longer a distant conflict tied to Valeria’s past.
It’s here.
Alive.
Breathing inside my walls.
The door opens. Both Lukyan and I turn at the same time. Valeria steps in. Her posture is straight.
But her eyes, her eyes say she heard everything.
“I heard,” she says, confirming it.
Of course she did.
I exhale slowly, irritation flickering just beneath the surface.
“Were you eavesdropping?”
Her eyes flash immediately. Sharp. Offended.
“I was coming in to talk to you,” she shoots back. “I only heard because Lukyan’s voice was loud enough.”
A pause as Lukyan’s eyes narrow. Then she steps fully into the room, closing the distance between us like she belongs here. Like she has every right to stand in the middle of this conversation.
Maybe she does.
Her gaze locks onto mine.
Steady. No fear. Not even now.
“This is my fault,” she says strongly.
I don’t even let that sit.
“No.”
The word comes out sharp. Immediate. Her brows pull together slightly, like she didn’t expect me to shut it down so quickly.
“He’s here because of me,” she insists.
“He’s here because he thinks he can take something that’s under my protection,” I correct coldly.
A beat.
“And that has nothing to do with fault. It has everything to do with him being stupid.”
Her eyes search mine for something—agreement, resistance, I don’t know.
But I don’t look away.
I don’t soften it.
Because this isn’t the moment for that.
This is war. Her gaze flicks between me and Lukyan now, like she’s weighing whether either of us is truly hearing her—or just reacting.
Then she speaks again.
“This isn’t just about revenge,” she says quietly. “Or power.”
I frown slightly, but I don’t interrupt.
“It’s about control,” she continues.
Her hands tighten at her sides, like she’s forcing herself to stay steady.
“According to Petrov family laws, Anton can claim leadership of the organization after killing my father. But the assets—the fortune, the shares, everything tied to the empire….”
Her jaw tightens.
“They remain legally bound to me.”
Silence.
Even Lukyan doesn’t speak.
My expression hardens as I process it.
Valeria continues anyway, voice lower now.
“Until I sign them away, he doesn’t fully own anything.”
A beat.
“He can sit on the throne,” she says, almost bitterly, “but he can’t touch the wealth behind it.”
Now it clicks.
The reason for the obsession.
The escalation.
The message in flesh.
The movement in my city.
This isn’t just domination for Anton.
It’s an incomplete victory.
A power he can’t finish claiming.
And that makes him unstable.
Dangerous in a different way.
My frown deepens slightly as I look at her.
“So that’s why he hasn’t stopped,” I say slowly.
Valeria meets my gaze without flinching.
“Yes.”
A quiet beat settles between us.
Then Lukyan finally speaks, voice low.
“So he doesn’t just want you dead,” he says. “He wants your signature.”
Valeria doesn’t answer immediately.
She doesn’t have to.
The silence is enough.
My jaw tightens.
Because now this isn’t just about protection anymore.
It’s leverage.
Control of an empire tied to a living target.
Which means Anton doesn’t just need to find her.
He needs to break her.
Slowly.
Cleanly.
Permanently.
I look at Valeria again.
Really look at her this time.
And something cold settles in my chest.
“Then he’s not getting either,” I say quietly.
She’s about to respond when the door opens again. Misha steps in, a box in his hands. The room shifts instantly. I don’t miss the way everyone goes still.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It was dropped outside the premises,” he says. “Again.”
My eyes narrow slightly. Of course it was. Valeria moves immediately, stepping forward like she intends to take it herself.
“Give it to me,” she says.
“No,” I cut in sharply.
She freezes.
Her eyes snap to mine—defiant, instinctive. She doesn’t like it. Not even a little. But she doesn’t argue. She stops.
That alone says more than anything.
I take the box from Misha.
Slowly. Then set it on my desk.
Everyone watches as I open it.
Inside is a USB drive.
Nothing dramatic.
No blood. No theatrics.
Which makes it worse.
I plug it into my laptop without a word.
The room tightens behind me as Lukyan, Misha, and Valeria all step closer.
The file opens.
The screen flickers.
And then he appears.
Anton Petrov.
Calm. Composed. Almost amused.
I lean back slightly in my chair, eyes locked on the screen.
Valeria goes still behind me.
Anton smiles like this is personal entertainment.
“Congratulations on your marriage, cousin,” he says, voice smooth. “I see you’ve found shelter under the Rusnak name.” The smile sharpens. “As if that will save you.”
My jaw tightens.
He continues without rushing.
“You can hide her. You can guard her. You can surround her with your little empire.”
His gaze shifts slightly, like he knows exactly who is in the room.
“But she belongs to me.”
Silence in the office turns heavy.
“I will come for her myself,” Anton says. “And when I do….”
His expression darkens.
“I will reclaim what is mine.”
He pauses ominously, then laughs darkly.
“And if your city has to burn for it….”
He leans in slightly, closer to the camera.
“Then it will burn.”
The screen cuts to black.
The silence that follows is absolute.
No one moves.
No one speaks.
I close the laptop slowly.
Then I stand.
“Anton just declared war.”