Page 127 of The Bratva Sinner

“What happened?” she asks.

I don’t want to tell her. She’ll blame herself. We all know what happens to the women who choose to work for someone else.

“Do you truly want to know?” I ask softly.

She nods. “Yes. I’m your wife.”

I tell her everything. She doesn’t flinch or cry.

“Can I be there?” she asks.

A wave of pride washes over me. My wife. My partner. I’ve had Damien at my side for more than a decade. I’ve had my brothers since birth. But having Lila stand by me is different.

“Yes.”

She nods. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

“I have a meeting with my attorney. I’ll be back by two.”

I give her a kiss and walk into the bathroom to shower. I feel different. Like I’m wearing invisible armor. I know it’s her respect and willingness to join me that makes me feel stronger. Invincible.

I don’t know how we beat the Albanians, but I know what happens if we don’t.

When it’s time, I take Lila’s hand and step into the dining room with her.

The room goes very quiet. All eyes on her. She stands strong, with her chin raised.

I’m so fucking proud of my wife.

Cinder is the first to give a subtle nod. It’s approval. And that’s unexpected.

I lead Lila to the head of the table and hold out the empty seat on my right. Damien is at my left. I had told him earlier that Lila would be sitting in on the meeting.

“All right,” I say. “Here’s where we are.”

I lay it out. I don’t soften it. I watch faces as I talk. Most of them know pieces of it. Hearing the full picture laid out is different.

It’s war. They all need to know what’s coming.

“They’re not coming at us with guns,” I say. “They’re coming at us with patience. They want us nervous and reactive. They want us chasing shadows while they dismantle the foundation.” I look around the table. “I’m done letting them run the play.”

Damien leans forward. “What are you thinking?”

“We go on offense. Simultaneously. Across all locations.”

“Define ‘offense’,” Petra, one of the club managers, says carefully.

“Every supplier who’s been hesitating gets a personal visit. Not a phone call. Me, in person, with enough information to remind them why our arrangement works better for them than the alternative.” I shift my attention to the house managers. “I want every client who’s gone quiet contacted directly. Find out if they’ve been approached. If they have, I want to know by whom, and what was offered.”

“And the women who’ve left?” Cinder asks.

“I want welfare checks on all of them. Quietly. I’m not trying to pull them back. I want to know if they’re being used against us.” I pause. “And I want to know how Arlind’s people are making contact. Someone is getting close enough to reach them directly. That means there’s still a leak somewhere in the operation.”

“It’s risky,” Damien says. “Going loud across multiple fronts at the same time. If even one of those visits goes wrong, we’ll have a problem.”

“Everything worth doing is risky,” I say. “Sitting still while they weaken us in preparation for the final blow is more dangerous. At least this way we’re deciding the ground we fight on instead of letting them pick it for us.”

He nods. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t argue with the logic.