Page 47 of His Contract Queen

“Why do you want to know so badly?” I ask. “It doesn’t change anything.”

She lowers her gaze to her drink, cradling the tumbler with both hands. Her thumbs trace slow circles over the etched crystal, the motion unconscious and telling.

“I barely know what youdo,” she says quietly.

I bring the tumbler to my lips. “I would wager it’s quite obvious what I do, Katya.”

The whiskey burns in a satisfying line down my throat.

She rolls her eyes at me over the rim of her glass. The gesture is so quintessentially her that something tightens in my chest, a pull I’m not used to feeling.

She hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know about the crime stuff. The illegal product you move across borders. I’ve overheard the meetings and calls. But… I guess I don’t understand why you’d play part-time loan shark on the side? From what I’ve observed, you’ve been profitable moving illegal product across borders. You don’t exactly strike me as the type to have a loan business as a hobby.”

Fair assessment.

And not wrong, either.

I settle the glass back into my lap.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised she wants to know more about the things I do. Being locked away in this office with only each other to talk to has shaped a kind of temporary co-dependence between us. One that never would’ve existed under normalcircumstances. Stripped of outside distractions, we’ve learned each other in ways neither of us intended.

I already know plenty about who Katerina Borchin is. It’s only natural she’d want the same courtesy extended.

My fingers tap lightly against the tumbler as I consider how much to tell her and then dismiss the thought. She’s earned honesty.

More than that, she’s earned my respect.

“I’ve been head of this Bratva since my uncle’s passing a little under a decade ago. I inherited his trade contracts after he died with almost no disruption. Guns, pharmaceuticals, rare gems when the market was right.” I shrug. “The routes were already established long before I came along. Taking them over has been easy.”

“Easy” is relative, of course. But compared to everything that followed, it’s accurate.

Most clients had remained deeply loyal to my family after the hierarchy change. Continuing to grow the business I’d been surrounded by since birth had been simple enough. There were only a few stumbles along the way—long-term partners who began to test my patience who thought a new Pakhan meant new opportunities to renegotiate terms.

They learned quite quickly my policies on handling insubordination.

She nods slowly, absorbing every word like she’s taking mental notes. “So, you were the next in line? Your uncle didn’t have any kids of his own?”

I take another sip. “I’m the only boy.”

The corner of her eye twitches, just slightly, but I catch it. A full blown smirk breaks across my mouth

“What, you thought criminal enterprises were immune to a patriarchal system?” I drawl.

She grumbles something under her breath, the irritation unmissable. Then she continues, “That doesn’t answer my question about how you got involved with my father.”

I hum softly. “My grandfather’s passing is what shifted things within my Bratva. After his death, our outside dealings became… complicated.”

Her brows lift slightly, that familiar arch of curiosity she can never quite hide. “Complicated how?”

My lips part to answer, then slowly press together in a thin line.

I lean back further into the couch, hooking my left leg over a knee. The firelight catches a faint scar on the underside of her jaw, one I know came from a childhood fall she still blames herself for. For a second I’m distracted by how fragile she looks in this lighting, how deceptively breakable.

It’s ironic how far from the truth that is.

Spilling secrets about the Iron Pact is not explicitly… forbidden.

There is no blood oath sworn over a blazing bonfire during a full moon, or a contract signed binding us all into never speaking about it. The Pact doesn’t run on childish rituals like that. It runs on mutually assured destruction. Every member knows that if one falls, we all do. Silence is enforced by the simple rule of survival and nothing more.