Page 33 of Bratva Bride
Viktor nods once. “Vasin is testing boundaries. Alexei is merely his instrument. But there’s more.” He rests his fingertips on the glossy paper. “Do you recognize this woman?”
I turn the photo over.
My jaw tightens. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “That’s Roman’s mistress.”
Ivana.
Long legs, pale hair always pulled tight in a chignon, the kind of face that gives nothing away even when you have your hand around her throat. The same face I saw laughing with Roman in a dozen staged photos. The same woman who called Sergei—one of my best men—forty minutes before the warehouse was hit.
My blood heats at the memory. I take the photo now, fingers brushing the edge. The background is unfamiliar. A bar, upscale. Her body is angled toward someone just outside the frame. I don’t see his face, but I don’t need to.
“Where is this from?” I ask, voice low.
“Three weeks ago,” Viktor says. “Downtown. She was with Alexei’s men.”
I look up, slow. “She’s still alive?”
He nods. “Very much. My people have been tracking her movements for a while now. I held off saying anything until I was sure.”
I clench the photo tighter. “I thought she was Roman’s.”
Viktor frowns. “Not sure where you got that info, but she is definitely Alexei’s. He was with her the last couple of years.Roman was a smoke screen. Your brother let you believe she was his. Let you misplace your suspicion.”
The knot in my chest twists. That manipulative bastard. Alexei set me up to waste time and fury chasing shadows.
“He baited me,” I say quietly. “Fed me lies knowing I’d buy them. Knew I’d think Roman was the traitor.”
“Exactly,” Viktor says. “You were grieving. You were angry. You were easy to lead.”
“How long has she been in the city?”
Viktor spreads his hands. “Hard to say. She travels quietly. Uses cash. Stays under the radar. But she’s still here. I’m working on an exact location.”
I lean back, folding the photo once before slipping it into my inner pocket. Anya glances at me, but says nothing.
Viktor continues, “Alexei has abandoned her, from what we’ve seen. She’s vulnerable.”
“I’ll kill her myself,” I say, the words coming out flat and cold before I can soften them. “That will send a message to Alexei.”
For a second there’s silence at the table. Anya is the one who breaks it. “Easy, tiger.” Her tone is almost teasing, but she puts a hand on mine, fingers light and sure. I’m too stunned to move. When I glance down, she pulls her hand away quickly, her cheeks coloring faintly.
Viktor’s eyes flick between us, but he lets her speak.
“Alexei would want you to react first and think later,” Anya says, her voice low but steady. “He’ll expect you to go after her. He’scounting on it. But if you do, you’ll lose your only way inside. Ivana might be more valuable alive than dead.”
I stare at her, jaw still tight, but her logic cuts through my anger. I know she’s right—rage is a luxury I can’t afford, not now.
“Find her first,” Anya says softly, eyes locking with mine. “Then decide what she’s worth.”
I force a breath, and drag my hand back into my lap. It’s not about vengeance, not yet. It’s about answers.
“Alright,” I say, voice rough. “We find her. We do it smart.”
Viktor’s phone vibrates on the table, screen pulsing with a name I can’t see. He stands, murmurs something about needing to take this, and steps away, disappearing into the bright spill of sunlight near the entrance. The hush he leaves behind feels strange after the tension at the table.
For a moment, Anya and I sit in silence, the wine between us catching stray flecks of gold from the window. She glances at the view, then back at me.
“It’s beautiful here,” she says quietly, nodding toward the bay. “The way the light moves across the water. I always forget how much I miss the coast when I’m stuck in meetings.”
