Both tower over their father. Nikolai is broad-shouldered and stone-faced, wearing a dark navy suit. Lev is dressed similarly, but his eyes tell me he's the kind of man who's itching for violence.
Danika mentioned them. She said Nikolai is the strategist and Lev is the hothead.
When the three of them are fully inside the office, the air shifts, and I feel it immediately. Every muscle in my body tightens, my fingers curling instinctively near the concealed weapon at my side.
We all stare at each other for a long moment. No one moves or speaks.
The silence stretches until, finally, Lucian steps forward and extends his hand.
"I'm Lucian," he says, his tone low. "Thank you for coming."
Ivan steps forward, his expression unreadable. He takes Lucian's hand, shaking it once.
"Ivan," he says, his accent thick but his English clear. He gestures to the men beside him. "These are my sons, Nikolai and Lev."
Lucian nods at each of them. Nikolai inclines his head slightly. Lev doesn't move.
"This is Matei, Victor, Adrian, and I believe you know Danika."
Ivan glances at all of us but does not speak.
"Please," Lucian says, gesturing toward the table. "Sit."
We all descend on the dark mahogany table like predators. The Volkovs take one side. We take the other.
I sit directly across from Nikolai, keeping my hands visible on the table but angling my body so I can reach my weapon in under a second if needed.
They do the same.
Danika sits to my right, her posture straight, her expression neutral. But I feel the tension radiating off her, the uncertainty of where she stands in all this.
Matei sits to my left, perfectly still, his gaze never leaving Lev.
Adrian is beside Matei, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on Ivan.
And Lucian sits at the head of the table, the weight of the entire family resting on his shoulders.
The Volkovs don't blink. Don't shift. They look like a pack of wolves ready to strike, waiting for a command.
It heightens my senses, and every sound feels sharper.
I'm thankful my gun is close.
Ivan turns to Danika, his gaze softening slightly. He speaks in Russian to her, his tone warmer than anything he's used so far.
Danika nods, responding in kind. Her voice is steady, respectful. I catch fragments of the words, but not enough to understand the full exchange.
When she finishes, Ivan smiles, then turns back to the table.
He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before he speaks.
"First," Ivan begins, his voice calm, "I want to acknowledge the intelligence Danika provided. Without her, I would not have known the extent of my brother's betrayal."
He pauses, his gaze sweeping across all of us.
"Dimitri was a traitor. He was hell-bent on destroying you, on building his own empire under the Volkov name. He dishonored our family. Dishonored our business. For that, he paid the price."
Ivan's expression hardens.
