Page 37 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

14

Mikhail

Istand at the windows of my penthouse, but my mind is far away in Scotland. Phoebe’s angry voice lingers in my head, her frustration almost physical even through the phone. I picture her face, green eyes flashing with hurt and confusion.

“Dammit,” I mutter. I should have told her everything before she left and explained why I sent her away, but how could I make her understand the danger without revealing too much?

I turn back to the room, looking over the organized chaos spread across every surface. Maps of Miami cover the dining table, marked with red pins indicating Valdés’ known properties and operations. Surveillance photos are tacked to a large corkboard, faces of his lieutenants and associates staring back at me.

My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up, hoping it’s Phoebe. It’s not. Just another update from Sergei.

“Any news?” I ask, my voice gruff.

“We’ve identified three more of Valdés’ shell companies,” he says. “And our man inside his organization says there’s unrest among the lower ranks. They’re not happy with how he’s handling the recent setbacks.”

I allow myself a small smile. “Good. Keep pushing. We’re close to finding a weak spot. I can feel it.”

“Yes, boss, and… there’s something else.” Sergei hesitates. “We’ve intercepted some chatter. Valdés is planning something big, but we don’t know what yet.”

My jaw tightens. “Double your efforts. I want to know everything he’s planning before he does it.”

I end the call and toss the phone onto the coffee table. I glance at a framed photo of Phoebe and me, taken during happier times on the deck of my yacht. She’s laughing as the wind whips through her locks. I’m looking at her with a smile I barely recognize on my own face.

“I’m sorry,lyubimaya,” I whisper to her image. “I’m doing this to keep you safe.”

My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text from Nastya.

“P is safe. Exploring the castle. Still angry.”

I type back a quick “Thank you” before tossing aside the phone again. At least Phoebe is safe, even if she hates me right now. I’d rather have her alive and angry than in danger here.

I pour myself a glass of vodka, savoring the burn as I swallow. The familiar warmth spreads through my chest, but it does little to ease the ache of Phoebe’s absence. “Soon,” I say to Masha, who is sprawled on her dog bed in the corner. “Soon this will all be over, and I can explain everything.”

Her ears twitch, and the unbroken one perks up before she lays down again. She seems glum and is clearly missing Phoebe. “Me too,” I say with a long sigh.

I return to the maps and photos, losing myself in the details of Valdés’ operations. Hours pass while I analyze every piece of information, looking for patterns, weaknesses, or anything we can exploit. As the first rays of sunlight start to peek through the windows, I finally allow myself to rest. I sink onto the couch, body heavy with fatigue, but even as my eyelids close, my mind keeps working, planning our next move.

In my dreams, Phoebe is here, safe in my arms, but when I wake, the reality of our separation hits me anew. I check my phone, hoping for a message from her, but there’s nothing.

I force myself to focus on the task at hand. Valdés needs to be dealt with, and quickly. Only then can I bring Phoebe home and finally tell her the truth about who I am and the world I inhabit.

With renewed determination, I stand and head for the shower. Another long day awaits, filled with strategizing and maneuvering, but with every move we make, we get closer to our goal, and closer to the day when I can hold Phoebe in my arms again and never let her go.

The next afternoon,the harsh ring of my phone cuts through the silence of my penthouse. I snatch it up, recognizing Sergei’s number. “What is it?” I ask, my voice tense.

“Boss, we’ve got trouble,” he says, his tone grim. “Our informants have uncovered Valdés’ plans. It’s big.”

I straighten, instantly alert. “Tell me everything.”

Sergei lays out the detail. It’s a coordinated attack on our businesses across Miami, including our main money-laundering front in South Beach. My jaw clenches as he continues.

“There’s more,” he says. “Valdés has put out a hit on you. A substantial bounty.”

“Understood. Assemble the team. Secure room at the hotel. One hour.” I end the call and move swiftly, grabbing my jacket and gun. Holstering the weapon, I glance at Phoebe’s photo. Her smile, frozen in time, makes me ache to hold her again, but I push aside the feeling. There’s no room for sentiment now.

An hour later, I stand at the head of a table in the hotel’s secure room. Maps and surveillance photos cover every inch of the surface. Sergei, Vladimir, Rodion, and my other trusted lieutenants gather around, their faces grim.

“Gentlemen, we face a significant threat. Valdés is making his move.”

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