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"She believes it's the only way to get the prize money they need," I confess, every word heavy with a mix of admiration and trepidation for Anastasia's audacious move.

My eyes linger on Damien, his observant silence finally breaking. "The attackers, they weren’t professionals, or Viktor would not be breathing."

My nod concedes to Damien’s bitter truth. His presence, though stemming from a painful betrayal in our family, often brings valuable insights. Perhaps that’s why—despite the underlying animosity—his place at our table remains unchallenged.

I slowly stand, the chair scraping softly against the floor. "I’ll coach her, keep her as safe as possible," I vow, more to myself than to those around me. "And concurrently, we find and deal with those who dared lay hands on our friend."

Silent nods of approval encircle the table, the unspoken pact lingering, embedding itself into the very bindings of our familial ties of retaliation and protection. While the world outside remains blissfully ignorant, we continue on with our dinner.

My mind, however, remains partially elsewhere, tethered to a brave woman with determination in her eyes and a fighter’s spirit, about to immerse herself into a world where even the fiercest warriors fear to tread.

We eat, but it’s only a matter of time before the topic is broached once more.

Andrei, his eyes dark wells reflecting the burdens he shoulders, initiates our forbidden dialogue, his voice a quiet rumble. “Samuil, what happened to Viktor is not isolated, I can feel it.”

I nod, a union of agreement coming from every soul in the room. "It's Van.”

Andrei’s eyebrow raises. “Van?”

“Van Babanin. A local bookie whose got his greedy fingers in every damn pie.”

Sandra leans forward, her intellect and shrewdness ever sharp despite the softness in her eyes. “I’ve heard of him. Parasitic scum, the type of man who will do anything for a ruble. But this is a direct assault on our family.”

Leo interjects thoughtfully, his eyes flickering with an astute calculative glint. “It’s more than that. It’s a statement, a display designed to rattle our composure and undermine our standing.”

Every word hangs in the air.

“Here is my theory. Van wants to manipulate the odds, increase the bets, and in doing so, increasing his cut,” I add.

With her usual calm, Nikita takes Leo's hand. "We've seen worse. We stand firm."

Her grounded voice brings a collective nod of agreement.

Roman, always the strategist, brings up a point. “He’s no rookie, and he’s got backup. Whatever move we make needs to be sharp.”

My thoughts snap to Anastasia, headstrong and diving into unknown danger.

I catch Valentina's sharp eyes on me. Her history as The Ghost silently warns of the dangers in our surreptitious world.

“Anastasia,” I say, the worry clear in my voice, “She’s right in the middle of this mess now.”

My raw concern is met with agreement, not pity.

Damien, always trying to prove his place in the family, speaks up. "So we prep her. Give her everything we've got."

His straightforward words underline what we're all thinking. Blood ties or not, we've got each other's backs.

Andrei scans us all before declaring, “We face this Van issue together, make sure he doesn't cause more damage."

The smell of sweat and the unmistakable metallic hint of the gym’s equipment fill the air as I push open the door. Morning light sneaks in through the cracks in the blinds, partially illuminating the dark room. Anastasia’s already there, muscles glistening with sweat, hair pulled back in a fighter’s ponytail. She’s a vision—a deadly one. It's too damn early to be this on edge.

She doesn't flinch, continuing her high kicks, each snap of her leg sharp and deliberate. Her focus is laser-tight, but it doesn’t stop her from speaking without looking in my direction.

“Took you long enough.”

Grit and determination line her voice, and despite the casual jest, I can sense the warrior beneath, preparing for the battle ahead.

I grunt a noncommittal reply, sauntering over to where she's methodically working through her routine. The air is charged, and it's got nothing to do with the impending training session.

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