Page 90 of Twisted Pact
“You’re not asking; I’m telling. Family protects family, even when family makes stupid decisions.”
After Dmitri disconnects, I turn back to find Mila watching me with worry creasing her forehead.
“Your brother thinks this is a mistake,” she surmises.
I chuckle and reply, “To be fair, my brother thinks everything I do regarding you is a mistake.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t rescue your father?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you to die trying.”
The admission makes my heart stutter. Underneath all her anger about control and independence, Mila cares about what happens to me. Cares enough that losing me frightens her more than losing her father.
“I’m not going to die,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can. I have too much to live for now.”
I cross the room and pull her into my arms. She feels small despite all her stubborn strength, like something precious that needs protecting from a world designed to break beautiful things.
“I’m scared,” she whispers against my chest. “Of losing you. Of losing Papa. Of this baby growing up without a father or grandfather because the men in my life think they need to prove how brave they are.”
The fear in her voice makes something protective ignite in my veins. She’s right to be scared. This operation could result in exactly the losses she’s describing.
“That won’t happen,” I promise her anyway.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I won’t let it.”
She pulls back to look at me. “You can’t control everything, Alexei.”
“I can control this.”
“Can you? It sounds like Novikov has anticipated every move you might make.”
“Then we do something he hasn’t anticipated.”
I think through the tactical challenges Boris outlined. Open approach. Limited escape routes. Superior numbers and defensive positioning. Every advantage belongs to Novikov except one.
He’s counting on sentiment to override tactical judgment. But what if I use that expectation against him?
“We make him think I’m doing what he expects,” I say slowly. “Direct assault. Overwhelming force. Everything he’s prepared to counter.”
“While actually doing what?”
“Something completely different.”
My phone goes off with a text from one of our intelligence contacts. New information about security rotations at the warehouse. I study the message and see possibilities that didn’t exist before.
“I need to coordinate with resources,” I tell Mila. “This will take several hours to plan properly.”
“Hours Papa might not have.”
“It won’t do him any good to rush in unprepared.”
