Page 76 of Forced Marriage to the Cruel Bratva Pakhan

“Maintain security protocols. I’m coming out.” I turn to Serena, now fully dressed in tactical-appropriate clothing. “You stay here. Lock the door behind me. If anything happens—ifyou hear gunfire or explosions—you go to the panic room we discussed. Understand?”

“Yes.” She crosses to me, her hand settling on my chest over my heart. “Be careful.”

The concern in her voice makes something tighten in my chest. “Always am.”

I lean down to kiss her—brief but possessive—then force myself to leave before the need to stay and protect her overrides tactical necessity.

The vehicle at the checkpoint is a nondescript sedan, windows tinted, engine still running. The driver sits with hands visible on the wheel, clearly aware that multiple weapons are currently aimed at his head.

I approach with Viktor flanking me, my own weapon ready. “Step out of the vehicle. Slowly.”

The driver complies, revealing himself to be a young man—mid-twenties, nervous but not overtly threatening. “Mr. Rudenko, I have information about your wife’s father and his communications with Anton Kravin.”

“Why bring it here? Why not through established channels?”

“The information involves someone in your organization.” He swallows hard. “Someone close to you who’s been passing intelligence to Senator Souris, who’s been passing it to Kravin.”

My jaw tightens. “Names.”

“Not out here.” His gaze flicks toward the guards surrounding us. “I don’t know who the leak is. Could be any of them. I have proof—recordings, messages, financial transfers. Everything you need to identify and eliminate the threat.”

It could be legitimate. Could be exactly what we need to plug the intelligence leak that’s been plaguing us for months.

Or it could be an elaborate trap designed to create paranoia and internal conflict.

“Viktor, secure him in the guest house. Full search, restraints, constant surveillance.” I step back. “I’ll review whatever evidence he has once our current operations are complete.”

“Sir, this information could be time-sensitive.”

“Then it will wait three hours until I’ve finished coordinating the assault on Kravin holdings across the city.” I turn away. “If it’s legitimate, the delay won’t matter. If it’s a trap, you’ve just wasted your opportunity to spring it effectively.”

I return to the command center, already compartmentalizing the interruption. Potential mole in the organization. Possible intelligence about Serena’s father. Unknown messenger with convenient timing.

All problems that require attention, but not immediately. Not while people are actively engaged in combat based on strategies I’m coordinating.

The operations continue through the morning with brutal efficiency. By noon, we’ve neutralized eight Kravin positions and captured significant intelligence about their remaining capabilities. Casualties are within acceptable parameters. Strategic advantage has shifted decisively in our favor.

Mikhail calls with the final assessment.“We’ve broken their offensive capacity. They’re down to maybe thirty percent of pre-war strength. Anton Kravin himself is still at large, but his organization is crippled.”

“Acceptable.” I pull up the consolidated reports, reviewing damage on both sides. “Consolidate positions andestablish defensive perimeters. I want rotating patrols on all key holdings and increased surveillance on known Kravin associates.”

“What about the messenger at the safe house? His information—”

“I’ll handle it.” I disconnect and turn my attention to the problem that’s been simmering in the background.

The young man has been secured in the guest house as ordered, restraints in place, guards positioned outside. I enter alone, weapon holstered but accessible.

“Talk,” I order. “Everything you know about Senator Souris’s coordination with Kravin. Start with how you obtained this information.”

He explains haltingly—a low-level operative in Kravin’s communications network, tasked with relaying messages between Souris and Anton. He claims to have grown disillusioned with Kravin’s leadership after the warehouse incident, particularly after witnessing Anton’s brutal interrogation methods.

The story is plausible but convenient. Too perfect.

“The proof,” I demand.

He produces a phone from his pocket—one that survived the security search because it appears to be a basic burner with no obvious threats. But when he unlocks it, the contents are devastating.

Recorded conversations between Souris and Anton Kravin. Detailed discussions about using Serena as an intelligence asset. Plans to extract her from my protection once she’d gathered sufficient operational details.