Chapter 8 #2
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, letting the frustration coil tighter in my chest. This was supposed to be simple. A briefing. A mission. A liaison assigned to us. Clean lines. Clear roles. That’s how it was supposed to be.
Instead, my mind circled back to my brother, how Viktor had gone and complicated it. I hated how much it bothered me that he’d tasted something I hadn’t even allowed myself to reach for yet.
I exhaled through my teeth, the sound harsh in the empty room.
“I’m going to kill him,” I said softly.
Not literally.
Probably.
Eventually.
Somewhere across the hall, I could practically feel Viktor smirking, and it only made the fire inside me burn hotter.
I was still sitting there in that chair, rubbing a hand over my face and trying to pretend Viktor hadn’t just kicked a hole straight through my professional detachment, when the suite door opened again, this time without a knock first.
Only one person in our family walked into rooms like they owned them without even checking if someone was reloading a gun first.
“Andrei,” I said flatly.
My youngest brother stepped in. His dark blond hair was windswept, cheeks flushed from the winter air. His coat wasn’t fully buttoned, and he carried a paper cup of coffee like it was the most important thing he owned.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, though he didn’t sound remotely sorry. “Airport security in this city is a nightmare. And then some fool crashed a taxi in front of the bridge. You’d think St. Petersburg never learned how to handle weather.”
“Most cities don’t expect ice in September,” I said.
He shrugged. “Only the stupid ones.”
His gaze drifted over me as he withdrew a second cup from his coat pocket and offered it. “Coffee? You look like you could use it.”
I stared at him. “How did you manage not to spill that?”
He smirked. “Talent. And a refusal to obey the laws of physics.”
I took the cup because refusing would only make him ask questions. Andrei never missed anything. Not tension, not shifts in tone, not the way I was sitting like a man trying very hard not to break a chair in half.
He lowered himself into the chair across from me, stretching his legs out, studying my expression like I was a puzzle he intended to solve.
“So,” he said lightly. “Viktor’s not here. That explains some of the peace and quiet. But it doesn’t explain why you look like someone stole your favorite teddy bear and pissed all over it.”
I exhaled. “It’s been a long morning.”
“I got your message,” he said. “Something about Revenant wanting us to manage a transfer? Drones? What’s the deal?”
Finally, something we could discuss without me wanting to strangle Viktor.
I sat straighter. “Revenant has… gotten their hands on some drones. Several units. They’re handing them over to a group of rebels in a neighboring territory.”
“Rebel as in ‘trying to build a democracy,’ or rebel as in ‘trying to build a funeral pyre’?”
“The latter,” I said.
Andrei grimaced. “Of course. Revenant does love a good extremist.”
“Indeed.”
“And this rebel group is led by…?”
“A man named Bashir al-Khayran.”
Andrei’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Fantastic. That sounds fun.”
“Revenant is calling them freedom fighters,” I said dryly.
“And we believe that?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good, because that would have worried me.”
His light humor didn’t mask the intelligence behind his eyes. He was quick, alert, and read between the lines faster than most men could read the lines themselves.
“So what exactly is our role?” he asked.
“Security oversight. Negotiation. Logistics. Ensuring the shipment arrives on schedule without exposing Revenant’s involvement.”
“In other words,” he said, leaning back, “we’re babysitting weapons we don’t approve of for people we don’t trust on behalf of an organization we don’t particularly like.”
“For a lot of money. That is the summary, yes.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Great. Can’t wait.”
I nodded. “We’re also being assigned an internal liaison. One of their own operatives, in fact.”
He blinked. “That’s new. Who is she?”
“She’s—”
I hesitated.
He caught it instantly.
“Oh, no,” Andrei moaned. “What was that pause?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
He snorted. “Mikhail, please. You pause maybe once a year. And it’s usually because someone has died, or Viktor did something so catastrophically stupid even you need a moment to process it.”
I rubbed my temple.
He leaned forward, voice amused. “So which is it? A corpse or Viktor?”
“Viktor,” I muttered.
He laughed. “What did he do this time? Start a fight with a diplomat? Insult a general? Break something expensive?”
“He slept with her.”
The words dropped between us like a glass shattering.
Andrei blinked once. “Slept with… the liaison?”
“Yes.”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Well. That explains the face.”
“What face?”
“The ‘I want to strangle my brother and possibly throw him out a window’ face. Not that I’m against defenestration, but maybe that wouldn’t be best right now…”
I sighed. “It’s a mess. She’s not used to working with anyone. And now she’s compromised because Viktor cannot keep his hands—or anything else—to himself.”
Andrei lifted a hand. “Okay, but question—did she initiate?”
“That isn’t relevant.”
“It absolutely is.”
I glared. He raised both brows, unbothered.
“Fine,” I said. “Viktor claims she wanted him.”
Andrei laughed under his breath. “Of course she did. Women like dangerous men. And idiots. Viktor is both.”
“That is not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“She should have been handled differently,” I argued, tension twisting through me again. “Carefully. Strategically. She’s… exceptional.”
Andrei watched me quietly, the humor fading from his eyes. His lips twitched. “Ah. There it is.”
“There what is?”
“Your problem.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what, exactly, is my problem?”
“You wanted to be the first one she trusted,” Andrei said simply. “And Viktor got there instead.”
I didn’t answer.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “It’s okay, you know. To care a little.”
“It’s not about caring. It’s about the mission.”
He hummed. “If you say so.”
I rubbed my forehead, exhaling slowly. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him. And her. Viktor is impulsive. And she’s clever enough to tag him if she wanted to.”
Andrei blinked. “Tag him?”
“A tracker,” I said. “I can’t be certain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”
He laughed. “You think she marked him like a stray cat?”
“She had opportunity.”
“And Viktor wouldn’t notice?” Andrei grinned. “Yeah. That tracks.”
I groaned. “Should we check?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “If he has one and we cut it out of him, he’ll cry for a week, and one will probably inevitably end up my ass.”
“Or mine,” I muttered.
He nodded solemnly. “True. And you’re too old for butt-tracking, brother.”
I closed my eyes. “I hate this family.”
“No, you don’t,” Andrei said with a soft smile.
“This mission is going to be hell,” I spat.
Andrei nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.
“Yep,” he agreed. “But at least it won’t be boring.”
By the time Revenant’s senior staff summoned us to the main conference room, it was mid-afternoon. Gray clouds pressed low over St. Petersburg, swallowing the skyline in a slurry of ice and smog. Revenant’s headquarters sat over it all like a glass monolith, pretending not to rot from the inside.
The conference room was a perfect reflection of the organization itself. It was obsessively clean, aggressively modern, and entirely without soul. There was a long black table at the center of the room. Chrome fixtures. Floor-to-ceiling windows that let the winter light spill in like diluted steel.
My two brothers trailed in behind me.
Viktor in his usual stride—lazy confidence, hands in pockets, smirk edging the corner of his mouth like he knew something no one else in the room did.
Andrei was right behind him—alert, measured, collected but with that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes that always made me feel like I was shepherding a fox through a henhouse.
I took the seat at the center of our side of the table, the one Revenant left out for me intentionally. The chair opposite belonged to the commander of Revenant’s operations—silver-haired, pale-eyed, and wearing a tailored suit that cost more than most men’s funerals.
He waited until we settled before speaking.
“Thank you for your punctuality, gentlemen,” he said, folding his hands neatly.
I nodded once. “You requested another meeting?”
“A final review before we complete our arrangement,” he said. “Your organization is prepared to oversee the movement of the drone shipment?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Your team provided specifications. We’ve reviewed the internal protocols. The Dragunovs will handle delivery, route planning, and security.”
“And one of you,” he said, “will meet with Bashir al-Khayran in person.”
Andrei didn’t flinch. “I’ll go.”
“And the rest of your… family?” The commander’s gaze slid to Viktor. “They understand the importance of discretion?”
Viktor smirked. “We’re Bratva, not circus performers.”
The commander chuckled softly. “One can never be sure.”
I shot Viktor a warning look, and he responded with a shrug that said he’d be on his best behavior for at least another thirty seconds.
The commander steepled his fingers. “Before we finalize this agreement, I’d like to bring in the last member of your operational team.”
My chest tightened. I knew exactly who that meant.
He pressed a button on the table.
The door behind us opened.
Footsteps. Light ones.
I didn’t turn immediately; I watched the faces across the table first.
Their expressions softened. Became polite. Almost too polite.
I finally looked.
Katerina stepped inside, her posture straight and face composed, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes when she saw the three of us seated there. She wore a fitted black jacket, dark trousers, and her dark brown hair was pulled back in a neat twist.
Efficient. Striking. Impossible not to notice.
Andrei sat up straighter. Subtle, but I noticed anyway. Viktor didn’t bother with subtle. His mouth curved upward with rebellion and intent, gaze sweeping over her in a way that told me he wasn’t just replaying strategy.
I felt my stomach tighten reflexively.
She approached the table, hands clasped behind her back. The commander gestured to a spot near him.
“Ms. Volkov,” he said smoothly. “Thank you for joining us.”
She nodded. “Sir.”
“We were just discussing the final details of the deal,” he continued. “Before we proceed, I want to confirm that you are willing to accept this assignment. Your expertise is… pivotal.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, albeit briefly. Assessing. Then to Andrei. Curious. And finally, inevitably, to Viktor.
She lingered there.
Too long.
Her breath seemed to pause for just a moment—just barely, but enough for Viktor to straighten a fraction, smugness glinting in his eyes at her obvious hesitation.
I felt a sensation unpleasantly close to jealousy scrape down my spine.
She looked away quickly, and faced the commander again.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m willing.”
Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor beneath it, buried so deep I doubted anyone else but me heard it.
The commander smiled, satisfied.
“Excellent,” he said. “Then we have a deal.”