Page 52 of Tattooed Vow

20

SANDY

I press myself against the wall, my heart hammering so loudly I’m certain they can hear it through the heavy oak door. Aleksandr's office has always intimidated me, all dark wood and old-world opulence. But tonight, it feels like the anteroom to hell itself.

Men's voices rumble from within, speaking Russian and English, washing over me angrily.I shouldn't be here.Every instinct screams for me to run, pretend I’ve never heard of the Avilov Bratva, and go back to my ordinary life where the worst danger is an unruly customer or a bad date.

But that life is gone. And the man whose voice now rises above the others, commanding, confident, and deadly, is why.

Dimitri.

“Three of our people are dead in Brighton Beach,” he says, his accent thicker than usual, the way it gets when emotion takes hold. “The warehouse on Neptune Avenue burned to the ground. The Butcher is making his mark, proving himself to Morozov.”

“Let him play with matches,” Aleksandr replies, his voice colder and more controlled than his brother's. Aspakhanof the Avilov Bratva, Aleksandr's word is law, and even through the door, I can feel the force of his authority. “While he sets fires, we will cut off his hands.”

“The Butcher is dangerous,” another voice counters. “Two months as Morozov's second in command, and already our territories are bleeding. Your father would never have allowed?—”

“My father is not here,” Aleksandr cuts in, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I am thepakhan. And I say we remove the Butcher before his reputation gains any more momentum.”

I inch closer to the door, my T-shirt clinging to my sweat-damp back. I can see them through the narrow opening. Four men sit around the mahogany desk, with Aleksandr and Dimitri facing them. They resemble board members at an exclusive corporation, wearing expensive suits, carefully groomed, with watches that cost more than my yearly salary.

“Our intel says the Butcher will be in Red Hook tomorrow night,” Dimitri continues, tracing his finger along a map spread before them. “Overseeing a shipment personally. We take him out, we destabilize Morozov's entire operation. Show everyone that his new attack dog isn't as fearsome as he believes.”

“His security there is impenetrable,” says a balding man I don’t recognize. “We lost two men just gathering intel.”

“Nothing is impenetrable,” Dimitri counters and something in his voice sends a chill through me. “We have something they don't.”

“And what is that?” the bald man sneers.

Dimitri's smile is cold and predatory. “We have an inside man.”

The room erupts in Russian curses and questions, but I’m drawn to Aleksandr. While the others react, he watches Dimitri with a calculating look I can’t decipher. Was it pride? Concern? Assessment?

“Tomorrow,” Dimitri says, silencing them with a raised hand. “We move tomorrow night. Tomas, you'll coordinate with the street crews. Alexi, I need your connections at the port authority.”

Footsteps approach the door, and I barely have time to slip into the shadows of the adjacent hallway before it swings open. The men file out, their conversation muted now, nodding to one another as they disperse. I press myself into an alcove, hardly daring to breathe.

Last to emerge are Dimitri and Aleksandr, heads bent close in quiet conversation.

“She complicates things,” Aleksandr murmurs.

"She's not a complication," Dimitri replies, his tone brooking no argument. “She's mine to protect.”

They move away, their words fading, but Dimitri's declaration echoes in my mind.She’s mine to protect.

I wait until the hallway empties before slipping away, my mind reeling. I need to get back to Talia before someone notices I’m gone.

"You didwhat?" Talia shrieks, dropping the fashion magazine she's been flipping through.

I flop onto the massive bed in the guest suite. “I just happened to overhear?—”

“You spied on their meeting?” Her eyes are nearly popping out of her head. “Are you actually insane?”

I roll my eyes, though her panic isn’t entirely misplaced. “They didn’t even know I was there.”

Talia sits beside me, her expression serious. “These men...they live by different rules than the rest of us. Aleksandr may be more refined than his predecessors, but he's still thepakhan. He will do whatever he has to for the Bratva. Don’teverlet him find out you were eavesdropping.”

“I know that,” I say quietly. And I do. I've seen enough since becoming part of the Avilov family to understand that their world operates on principles foreign to my own. Loyalty. Honor. Violence. An eye for an eye. “But don't you want to know what's really going on?”

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