Page 79 of Obsessed Bratva King

I step forward, but Maxim shifts between us. Not aggressively, but firm enough to make it clear—Ivan has made his decision.

21

IVAN

Maxim leans over the hood of his car, scarred face unreadable as he taps a thick, calloused finger on a blueprint of an old warehouse. Darren’s last known location. Dmitri is busy checking his gun. Behind him, our men prepare to move out.

Maxim’s voice is thrumming with energy. “Now that we have a location, we need to decide. Do we hit him fast and wipe him out, or wait and confirm he’s there?”

Dmitri doesn’t hesitate. “Go in hard and fast.” He leans back, arms crossed, his expression as cold as ever.

I say nothing at first, my eyes scanning the blueprint. Every exit, every weak point, every potential trap. Darren is the type of man who doesn’t wait to be hunted—he either disappears or sets the fire himself.

Going in fast is an option. It’s what we do best. But this isn’t some low-level cleanup job. Darren isn’t just a target—he’s a cockroach with a taste for blood, the kind that only dies if you crush him completely.

I grab a marker and start circling points on the blueprint. “We’ll need two teams. One breaching, one covering the exits. We block every escape route before he even knows we’re there.” I glance at Maxim. “Who do you trust to be point?”

Maxim considers for a moment before nodding toward one of the men at the end of the table. “Gregor.”

A solid choice. Ruthless. Efficient.

I keep marking. “Backup team on the rooftops. If he tries to flee, we clip him before he makes it to the street.”

Dmitri exhales through his nose. “And who puts the bullet between his eyes?”

I don’t hesitate.

“I do.”

A murmur of approval ripples through the men. This is expected. Right. I’ve hunted Darren for long enough. This kill belongs to me.

Maxim nods once, spinning his knife again. “Then it’s decided.”

And then?—

The door slams open.

The room turns instantly, hands twitching toward weapons before they realize who it is.

Cora storms in like she owns the place, her chin lifted, shoulders squared, defying every unspoken rule in this room. My men do not like being interrupted, least of all by someone who isn’t one of them.

Gregor stiffens. Anton’s lips press into a thin line. A few others glance at each other, irritation flashing in their eyes.

Maxim leans back slightly, studying her with mild amusement. Dmitri, as always, remains unreadable.

I go completely still.

She doesn’t so much as flinch under the weight of their gazes. Instead, she plants her feet and crosses her arms, her voice clear, unwavering.

“I want in.”

Maxim sighs. “Cora?—”

“I know Darren better than any of you.” She doesn’t let him finish. Her words cut through the room like a knife. “You go in guns blazing, he’ll either disappear or trap you. That’s who he is. You need to force him out into the open. I can make that happen. Like we agreed.”

The silence that follows is heavier than before.

The men don’t speak, but I can feel their reactions. Some are skeptical. Some are flat-out annoyed.

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