Page 43 of Bratva Hostage

Something that matters.

Dimitri’s trust—or whatever version of it this is—has just put a target on my back. I should be afraid. Instead, I welcome it.

I sip my coffee and force myself to look unbothered. If they want to test me, they’ll have to do better than suspicious side-eyed glances.

From across the room, one of Dimitri’s men leans against the counter. He’s one of those who had been deep in conversation before Dimitri sat down. Now, he remains still, his eyes shifting between me and the door that Dimitri disappeared through.

I recognize him from the night of our wedding. He was standing close to Maksim when they all watched me walk down the aisle like I was some rare exhibit. I don’t know his name, but I know his type. Loyal to Dimitri, but wary of me.

I set my cup down and meet his gaze without even blinking. His lips twitch, as if I’ve done something amusing. He mutters something to the man beside him, and they both chuckle before going back to their conversation.

They’re not underestimating me. They’rewatching.Measuring. Waiting to see what I’ll do with the influence Dimitri just handed me.

I push my chair back and slowly stand. The subtle movement draws attention, but I don’t acknowledge it. Instead, I smooth my hands down my dress and walk to the counter, where one of the kitchen staff is finishing up a fresh pot of coffee.

She glances up at me and smiles. “Another cup?”

I nod. “Please.”

She pours it for me, and I take my time adding just the right amount of sugar. I don’t rush. I don’t let my shoulders tense. I feel the stares, but I refuse to react.

Dimitri has no idea what he just did. Or maybe he does. Either way, his men have taken notice. And in this world, attention isn’t always a good thing.

Let them test me. Let them watch. I’ve been underestimated my entire life.

They’ll regret it.

Chapter 17 - Dimitri

Blood and loyalty have always guided my decisions. Emotions don’t have a place at the table. But that was before Cecily burst into my life, before she began demanding more than I was ever willing to give.

I should have shut this down already. Every instinct tells me keeping her out of this war is the only way to ensure she survives it. But instincts don’t change the reality I’m facing. Cecily isn’t backing down. And whether I like it or not, she’s right.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I glance across the conference table where Cecily sits with her gaze locked on the map sprawled across the surface. She’s been quiet while Maksim and Aleksei go over the latest intel, but I see the way her fingers curl against the table’s edge and the way her eyes narrow when certain names are mentioned. She’s thinking, turning over every detail, analyzing.

The same way I do.

Maksim clears his throat. “We’ve got scattered reports of movement near the dockyards. Thorne’s people are making themselves known, but not in any obvious way. They’re testing us. Pushing at the edges, looking for cracks.”

“Then we seal those cracks,” Aleksei declares. “We can’t let them think they’re making progress.”

I nod as I consider the angles. The dockyards are too valuable to leave vulnerable. We need better surveillance and more intelligence. Every move Thorne makes should be one we have already anticipated.

“We need eyes on the ground,” Maksim continues. “We’ve been running surveillance, but it’s not enough. We need someone close to his network, someone who can get in and feed us real-time information.”

Cecily straightens in her chair. “Then I have an idea.”

The words come out steady and confident. I almost smirk at how quickly she’s learned to assert herself in these rooms, but I don’t. Instead, I just sit back and wait. I’ve learned over the last few days that she doesn’t speak up unless she has something to contribute.

Maksim glances at me before looking back at her. “Let’s hear it.”

She leans forward and taps the map, right where the dockyards stretch into the industrial district. “My father isn’t going to make a direct move yet. That’s not his style. He’s sending people in to plant the seeds, to establish leverage before he acts. But there’s a way to get ahead of him.”

She redirects her focus to me, and I feel that familiar pull—like she’s daring me to deny her before she’s even finished talking.

“We should let him think he has the upper hand,” she continues. “Set up an operation that feeds him the intel he wants. Something believable but controlled. A false leak. Let him bite, and when he does, we use the opportunity to track it back to him.”

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