Chapter 4 – Danil
I went straight out of the house from her room, the citrusy scent of her dark auburn hair following me. It was the only thing I could do to resist the pull to head into my home office and stare at her all night through the camera monitor.
I touched her, for fuck’s sake.
Not her hand or even her shoulder.
I didn’t wrap my hand around her neck in a threatening chokehold; my hands were on that tiny waist.
Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal to the guy next door, but for me, it was.
Touching women was only ever for one purpose: It was either business or pleasure.
Friendly or casual touches weren’t my thing.
I had female business partners and clients, but a formal handshake was the highest extent of physical exchange between us.
Even the few whose desires to explore the pleasure aspect I once acquiesced to knew better than initiating anything more than a handshake during business.
I had no medical basis for an allergy to touch; I just didn’t do it casually.
The requisite touch shared while dancing with whoever my date was at Bratva galas was one of my biggest headaches about such events. It was something I braced myself for before each event and looked back at with utter dissatisfaction after.
Touching her was neither business nor pleasure; it was purposeless.
I had no reason to do it, I just wanted to.
More like I just had to.
Her defiance undoubtedly made being in her presence more interesting. But that didn’t explain my getting within intimate distance and then touching her.
If this—whatever it is—continues, it might begin to affect my calm.
And I’d burn before I let that happen.
My phone vibrated against my chest, and I took it out of my suit’s inner pocket.
“Luka,” I uttered.
“Boss, Sergei told me you left for the warehouse.”
“I did.”
“Should I join you there? I have an update on the Sivella Holdings situation.”
“No need. I’ll be back at the estate by midnight.”
“Okay, Boss.”
“Have you checked on her lately?” I asked, immediately telling myself I didn’t need to.
“No, sir. Aside from occasionally banging the door, she’s been quiet.”
“She’s been there for hours. Have someone bring her food,” I instructed.
“Oh…okay, Boss.”
An email came in right after I ended the call. I was busy reading the report when Dimitri opened my door.
“Boss,” he stated, nodding in greeting as I stepped out of the car.
Katria’s attack attempt flashed in my mind as I peeled off my suit and hung it.
I chuckled as I rehashed the unexpected but totally impressive occurrence.
I wasn’t exactly surprised that she was so annoyed to the point of wanting to hit me.
I had only met her a few hours ago, but I had seen enough proof of her defiance and stubbornness.
Yet, randomly picking up a tumbler and smashing it against the wall was a height I wouldn’t have thought she’d reach.
She hid it fairly well, but I still saw how she flinched at the pain of the glass injuring her hand when she broke it.
Still, the hot-headed, green-eyed girl went on to target my throat.
The knock on my door sounded, and as I answered with a curt, “Come in,” I knew it wasn’t good news.
“Good evening, Boss,” Maximilian greeted, standing by the door, which he shut behind him.
“Evening. What is it?” I questioned, uncuffing my shirt sleeve as I sat in my chair.
“There has been a problem with one of our deliveries,” he informed, his face grim.
Of course.
I looked up at him, and his awkward throat-clearing told me he knew what he was doing wrong.
“It was the third onshore delivery. En route to Mr. Hans’s warehouse. The police wouldn’t cooperate at one of the checkpoints, so…um…a few shots were fired, and it called some attention. The shipment is intact, but we had to reroute. It will be delivered tomorrow morning.”
That particular delivery wasn’t even on the higher-risk list. While delivery hitches were not uncommon in my line of work, this type was something that my men were more than adequately equipped to deal with.
“What you’re telling me is that an old-time customer is currently dissatisfied because the police disrupted a delivery?”
If there was anything the Mafia avoided, it was the police.
We always walked away from anything that might involve them due to the negative publicity it would bring.
That was why we always settled whoever needed to be settled in the force.
Publicly going against one of them, no matter how inferior, could give them an edge because they would make ridiculous demands to cover it up.
“We’re sorry, Boss.”
“Who handled the delivery?”
“It was Kirill, Boss.”
“Get him here this minute.”
“Yes, Boss,” he rushed to say before disappearing.
I stood as the door opened, and Maximilian came in after Kirill.
“Sorry, Boss. I’m sorry, Boss. I had to slow down at the checkpoint because one of the policemen stood in front of the truck, and you taught us not to attack them unless we were on the defensive,” Kirill explained, his eyes darting around as if searching for the weapon that would decide his fate.
“Nice,” I commented, sitting at the edge of my chair as I pulled one of my desk drawers open. “But it didn’t cross your mind that the policeman who obstructed your way was already on the offensive, did it?”
His eyes widened a fraction as I continued, standing with the heavy hammer in my hand.
“You didn’t think your failure to run the policeman over would be a stain on my arm of the Yezhov Bratva, did you? You were too unstable to think the police would try it again next time, weren’t you? But, you were quick to send your bullets flying, hm?”
He answered with a vehement, side-to-side shake of his head before speaking.
“The superior officer kept insisting on a thorough check, and when he pointed his gun at me, I had to shoot. I’m sorry, Boss.”
Looking past him, I gestured toward Maximilian.
“Hold his right hand down,” I instructed.
“Boss, please. I’m sorry. Please, I….” Kirill’s rushed pleas broke into a pained shout at the first smash of the hammer against his fingers.
He was crouching down with his left hand gripping the edge of the table by the time I was sure his five fingers would need surgery to look normal again.
“You had to make a rushed decision because you judged poorly at the beginning,” I told him before asking, “Do you know why I only crushed five of your fingers and not ten?”
“No,” he replied, his voice coming out in a hushed whine.
“Two reasons. It’s your first strike, and you took responsibility,” I divulged. Turning to Maximilian, I said, “Get him treated. Call someone to come clear the mess.”
“Yes, Boss.”
They were both out of the door before I got back to my chair.
I got busy with calls to repair the damage caused, and it was during my last call that I thought of Katria again.
I considered that one of her friends or relatives might report her unexplained absence to the police. Then my mind shifted to a more urgent and far more dangerous scenario—that our competitors or enemies could trace her location through the burner phone still on my estate.
I checked the time.
11:02 a.m.
I dialed Dimitri’s number; he picked up on the first ring.
“Bring the car around.”
“Okay, Boss.”
Grabbing my suit, I left my office.
***
I stared at the flames dancing over the burning pile of Katria’s things in the back garden.
I had recovered her bag from my men as soon as I got back into the house.
The burner phone, her personal smartphone, and other copies of archived documents that I found in the folded envelope made up the small pile.
The small black bag itself and the single sheet of the Sivella ownership were the only things I spared.
I wanted everything gone as quickly as possible. I had to ensure that no one could reach or locate her.
Luka came out of the back door with a transparent file in his hand.
“This is all we found there, Boss,” he disclosed, walking over to hand me the file.
“All these came from the storage locker?”
“Yes, Boss.”
I nodded as I opened the file to examine the small stack of documents.
Most of the papers pertained to the holding company, from maintenance bills with Kyle’s name on them to building plans.
Why did he hold on to these?
From what I knew of Bratva traitors, they hid their acquired or apportioned properties far away from them so they wouldn’t be suspected.
Even when they knew their covers had been blown, they often resorted to transferring whatever they had gotten or stolen from the Bratva to their most distant family or friends- places that were untraceable.
Maybe because it had nothing to do with his betrayal.
That was the most likely explanation. Sivella Holdings had been in existence for years before we saw the records that made us know he was betraying us. His rights and all the income he got from the holding company were his honest earnings.
Or maybe he kept every one of the documents as proof in case we tried to deny his daughter.
He has no idea how much risk he has put his beloved beneficiary in.
I put the documents back in the file and tossed it into the fire.
“What’s the update?” I asked Luka.
“Some of our rivals have already sniffed out the reactivation of Sivella Holdings. The information is spreading fast; we can’t do much about keeping it contained anymore.
I got intel that some factions, especially Osiniov and Sointsevskaya, have put out feelers.
If they manage to grab her by any chance, we’ll lose control over the situation,” he revealed.
I nodded, my eyes not leaving the fire.
“They won’t, by any chance, manage to grab her,” Matvey’s voice sounded from the back door. “She will be Danil’s wife very soon. He’ll protect her with his life.”
I looked up from the diminishing flame to see Matvey and Konstantin approach.
“He has a date already. You already left when he said it. They’re getting married in a week,” Konstantin informed our older brother, who raised a brow and nodded.
“Wait, why are you here again? I have a valid reason to be here. What’s yours?” Konstantin asked, turning partially to face Matvey.
“And what purpose would my explanation to you serve, kid brother?” Matvey inquired.
As they bantered, I folded my arms as I remembered the first time I laid my eyes on Katria Wolfe.
“You know, I told my fellow soldiers they were nuts when they told me you were the betrayer we’d been on the lookout for,” I told Kyle, who looked up at me with a shake of his head.
He was on the floor with his wife and daughter.
“I know how this ends. But I’m not the end of your search, I assure you. I’m not guilty of treason or any form of betrayal, Danil.”
“You deny? Even after the proof? Are you trying to save face because your lovely family is here?” I asked.
“I don’t expect you to believe me. But I’m not—” he went on before I cut in with an instruction to one of the men beside me.
“Shoot him.”
His wife held on to his daughter, preventing her from running toward her father, whose body thrashed in a pool of blood. They cried together as his body went still.
“Should we kill them, too?” Luka inquired, pointing his gun at them.
“No need. The little girl won’t remember any of this,” I answered, gazing down to meet the girl’s defiant eyes as she wiped them with the back of her hand.
She definitely remembered.
And she was still the same angry and defiant spitfire she had been years ago.
But even though I didn’t know where it came from, I had a certain feeling that she wasn’t as independent as she portrayed herself. Her defiance didn’t make me want to harm her; it made me want to protect her.
“Of course, I’ll protect her with my life,” I uttered, meeting Matvey’s eyes. “She’ll be a Yezhov now, after all.”
Luka left the garden as Matvey moved away from Konstantin’s side and toward me on the other side of the ash pile.
“I’m proud of you, brother. This is not just a cleanup; it’s a legacy protection,” he remarked. “You tie her to us, and it’ll be sealed that she’s under the Yezhov protection.”
I nodded, and he did the same before heading toward the side of the house, apparently going straight to his car.
“All I have to say is that I can’t wait to witness your wedding,” Konstantin expressed.
“You seem to assume you’ll be invited,” I told him.
“Then who else would you invite?” he asked, chuckling.
Luka came out of the house with some papers.
“Boss, the marriage papers. They have to be signed as soon as possible so you can go to the officiant,” he explained as I took the license papers from him.
He passed me my pen.
“Why is her signature not here yet? When do you intend to serve her the papers?”
“I think you’re the only one that can make her sign them, Boss,” he answered. “She has refused everyone else, including me. She even threatened to burn the papers if she set her eyes on them again.”
Nodding, I signed the papers.
“If she’s so determined to burn them, it’d better be with my name on them,” I remarked.
“Seems you’ve got a handful with your soon-to-be bride. She will definitely give you a tough time,” Konstantin said.
“If anyone can handle her, it’s me.”
She’ll sign these papers.