Chapter 12 Dimitri
DIMITRI
I'm preparing for war.
Two hours have passed since Alina left with her father. One hour remains before she's supposed to return. But every instinct I've honed over the decades in this life is screaming that something is wrong.
I slide a knife into my boot, another into a sheath at my back.
Old habits from my early days, when guns weren't always available and close combat was the only option.
The familiar weight of the weapons should be comforting, but instead, I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I haven't felt since I was a young man fighting my way up through the Bratva ranks.
Because Alina is out there, beyond my protection, and I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Pakhan." One of my men appears in the doorway, his face carefully neutral. "The vehicles are ready. Men are in position."
I nod, not trusting my voice. I've stationed teams at strategic points around the Popov estate, close enough to respond quickly but far enough to avoid detection. If Viktor tries anything, if he attempts to keep Alina or move her somewhere else, we'll know immediately.
If. The word mocks me. I know Viktor will try something. The only question is what.
I check my phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing from Alina’s panic button. That should reassure me, but it doesn't. She could be packing. She could be saying goodbye to her sister. Or she could be trapped, held against her will while Viktor figures out his next move.
My hands tighten around the Glock I'm holding. I force myself to breathe, to think clearly. Emotion is a weakness in this world. It clouds judgment, makes you sloppy. I've seen good men die because they let their feelings override their training.
But when I think about Alina, about her green eyes and the way she stood up to me with a gun in her shaking hands, about the taste of her lips and the heat of her body pressed against mine, I don't feel like a good man.
I feel like something primitive and possessive, something that wants to tear apart anyone who threatens what's mine.
She's not mine yet, a voice in my head reminds me. We’re not married yet. She might not come back at all.
I shove the thought away and holster the Glock. Then I select a rifle, something with range and stopping power. Just in case.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it immediately. But it's not the panic signal. It's a message from one of my informants, a man who works in the Kozlov organization. The text is brief, encrypted, but the meaning is clear.
Confirmed. Popov/Kozlov alliance. Church hit was joint operation.
Ice floods my veins. I knew it. I suspected it from the moment I saw the coordination of the attack, the professional execution. But having it confirmed, seeing it in black and white, makes rage burn hot in my chest.
Viktor Popov sold out his own daughter. Arranged for her fiancé to be murdered at their wedding. All for power, for territory, for a larger piece of the Bratva pie.
My phone rings, and I answer without checking the caller ID. "Talk."
"Dimitri." It's Yuri, another informant, his voice tight with urgency. "I have information about the church attack. About Viktor Popov."
"I'm listening."
"He brokered a deal with the Kozlovs six months ago.
They wanted Sergei dead, wanted to create chaos in the Morozov family.
Viktor provided the wedding details, the security layouts, everything they needed.
In exchange, the Kozlovs promised protection for his family and a thirty percent cut of your territory once you were weakened. "
My jaw clenches so hard, I hear my teeth grind. "Go on."
"The plan was for you to be distracted by Sergei's death, by the chaos.
While you were dealing with the fallout, the Kozlovs would move against your operations.
Take your businesses, your soldiers, everything.
Viktor would step in as a mediator, help broker a peace, and come out looking like a hero while pocketing his share. "
"But I took Alina." The pieces fall into place with sickening clarity.
"Exactly. That wasn't part of the plan. Viktor didn't expect you to grab his daughter and bring her to your estate.
Now she's a liability. She knows too much, or she might figure it out.
And if she stays with you, if she actually marries you like the rumors are saying, then Viktor loses his leverage entirely. "
I move to the window, looking out at the grounds. My men are positioned around the property, weapons ready, waiting for my orders. "What's Viktor planning to do?"
"I don't know specifics. But he's desperate. He's been making calls all morning, trying to figure out how to get Alina back without making himself look guilty. The Kozlovs are pressuring him too. They want this situation resolved before it blows back on them."
"Thank you, Yuri. This information is valuable."
"Be careful, Dimitri. Viktor is cornered, and cornered animals are dangerous."
I end the call and stand there, staring at my phone. I should have seen this coming. Viktor Popov has always been ambitious, always willing to sacrifice anything for power. I've known that about him for years. But I underestimated how far he'd go, how little his own daughter's life meant to him.
The thought of Alina in that house, surrounded by her father's men, possibly discovering the truth about his betrayal, makes my chest tight with something that feels uncomfortably like fear.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and this time it's not a call or a message. It's an alert from the panic button app. The pendant is transmitting an emergency signal.
Alina pressed the button.
Everything else falls away, the careful planning, the strategic positioning, the need to maintain appearances. None of it matters. Alina is in danger, and I'm going to get her out.
"Move!" I shout, already running toward the garage. "Everyone, move now! We're going to the Popov estate!"
My men respond instantly, years of training kicking in. Engines roar to life. Weapons are checked one final time. Within sixty seconds, we're pulling out of the estate in a convoy of three SUVs, all of them armored, all of them carrying my best soldiers.
I'm in the lead vehicle, driving myself because I can't sit still, can't let someone else control our speed. My foot presses the accelerator to the floor, and the powerful engine responds, pushing us through the streets at dangerous speeds.
"Dimitri." It's Borge, one of my lieutenants, in the passenger seat. "What's the plan?"
"We get her out. Whatever it takes."
"Viktor's men will be armed. This could turn into a bloodbath."
"Then it turns into a bloodbath." My voice is cold, flat. "But we're not leaving without Alina."
The drive feels like it takes hours, though it's probably only ten minutes.
Every second that passes is another second Alina is in danger.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
If Viktor has hurt her, if he's laid one finger on her, I'll tear him apart with my bare hands.
Slowly. Painfully. I'll make him beg for death before I'm done.
The possessive rage that floods through me should concern me. I've killed dozens of men in my life, but always with cold calculation, never with emotion. Emotion makes you sloppy. But right now, I don't care about being sloppy. I care about getting to Alina.
We turn onto the street where the Popov estate sits, and I see immediately that something is wrong. The gates are open, which they shouldn't be. Viktor's guards who were positioned around the property are gone. And there, in the driveway, is Alexei's SUV with the driver's door hanging open.
I slam on the brakes, and we're out of the vehicles before they've fully stopped. My men fan out, weapons drawn, covering all angles. But there's no resistance. No guards rushing out to stop us. Just eerie silence. Why hadn’t the men stationed nearby notified me? How could they have missed this?
I run up the front steps, my Glock in my hand, and burst through the door into the foyer.
Alexei lies on the marble floor in a pool of blood.
For a moment, my heart stops. Then I see his chest rising and falling, shallow but steady.
He's alive. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands already checking for injuries.
There's a bullet wound in his shoulder, another graze across his temple.
Someone hit him hard enough to knock him unconscious, then shot him for good measure.
"Get the doctor!" I shout to my men. "Now!"
Mikhail is already on the phone, calling our private physician. Two of my soldiers carefully lift Alexei, preparing to move him to one of the vehicles.
I stand, my eyes scanning the foyer. There are signs of a struggle. A broken vase. Scuff marks on the floor. And blood. Not just Alexei's blood, but drops leading toward the back of the house.
"Search every room," I order. "Find her. Find Alina."
My men scatter, moving through the house with practiced efficiency. I hear doors opening, furniture being moved, voices calling out as they clear each space. But I already know what they're going to find.
Nothing.
Alina is gone.
I move through the house myself, my weapon ready, my eyes taking in every detail.
The kitchen is empty. The living room untouched.
Upstairs, I find what I assume is Alina's bedroom.
The door is open, and inside, a suitcase sits on the bed, half-packed.
Clothes are scattered across the floor. Her phone lies on the nightstand, abandoned.
She was packing to come back to me. The realization hits me hard. She was choosing to return, choosing me over her family. And then something happened.
I pick up her phone, checking the recent calls. Nothing unusual. No messages that might give me a clue about where she is or what happened.
"Dimitri!" Borge's voice echoes from downstairs. "You need to see this!"
I run back down, taking the stairs three at a time. Borge is in Viktor's study, and when I enter, I see what he's found. The desk drawers are open, papers scattered across the surface. And there, in the center of the desk, is a folder with the Kozlov family crest on it.
I flip it open, scanning the documents inside. Financial records. Communications. Proof of everything Yuri told me and more. Viktor's signature on agreements to betray the Morozov family. Plans for the church attack. Payments from the Kozlovs.
Alina found this. She discovered her father's betrayal, and he caught her.
The rage that floods through me is so intense I have to grip the edge of the desk to keep from putting my fist through the wall. Viktor took her. His own daughter. Because she learned the truth, because she became a liability.
For the first time in twenty years, I feel completely powerless.