Page 57 of Bratva Baby

More importantly, he confirmed that Maks used existing family freight structures and hid his own shipments and money inside them. For us, that means if this comes out badly, the Leonidovs won’t be the only ones hit.

Reznikov routes could get stopped, payments could get frozen, customs could start looking harder at our freight, and old blood between the families could flare up again. If that happens, we lose money first, then movement, and then men.

Mikhail laughs harshly. “That woman has you by the throat.”

I lean back and look at him. “If she did, I’d still be more useful to you than half the men who’ve ever sat at this table.”

That gets him half out of his chair before Viktor says, “Sit down, Mikhail. You’re too old to posture at him.”

The boss looks at me. “How solid is her intelligence?”

“Solid enough that Maks is scared.”

The boss finally shifts in his chair and nods.

“Then here is how this goes,” he says. “You keep the woman and find out what she knows in full. You identify what Maks has built, where it touches our lines, and whether it is worth surgical pressure or removal.”

Mikhail mutters, “Removal would be cleaner.”

The boss ignores him. “If this turns into open Leonidov-Reznikov damage again,” he says to me, “you do not get to hide behind sentiment.”

I almost laugh at the word. “Sentiment isn’t the issue.”

“No,” he says. “But attachment might become one.”

I keep my face still. “I’m attached to useful outcomes.”

Sergei says dryly, “And to the mother of your child.”

I look at him. “Those are not mutually exclusive.”

Viktor actually laughs at that, though the boss doesn’t. “You’ve bought yourself a narrow window, Anton. Use it well. If Maks is what you say he is, then he will keep tightening. If the Leonidovs decide your sheltering her is provocation, then the old truce rots faster. If your woman’s information is weak, then you have dragged blood into your house for nothing.”

He pauses.

“If her information is strong and you still fail to turn it into something usable, then you become the loose end.”

The room goes very still after that. I stand, button my jacket, and say, “Then I won’t fail.”

18

ANTON

On the way back to the penthouse, I’m carrying a narrow window, three fresh problems, and a roomful of older men in my head telling me exactly how disposable I’ll become if I don’t fix this fast.

The elevator opens straight into the main hall. One of the guards glances up, sees my face, and decides not to ask anything stupid. Good instinct. I hand him my coat, tell him nobody comes near the library unless I say so, and keep walking before he can answer.

Sofiya is exactly where I expected her to be—curled into the corner of the library sofa in another shirt she stole from me, bare legs folded under her, trade papers spread across the table, and my monitored phone sitting beside a cup of turmeric latte.

Her hair is half pinned up, half falling loose, and whatever she’s reading has her mouth set in that line that always makes me want to ruin her concentration on principle.

She doesn’t look up right away as she flips to another page. “You’re late.”

My mouth twitches. “I had to hear several men explain my own life to me.”

Her eyes lift, cool and sharp at first, then they move over my face and catch something there. Sofiya has gotten better at reading me. I’m not sure that’s good for either of us.

She closes the folder in her lap. “How bad?”