Page 21 of Forced Marriage to the Cruel Bratva Pakhan

“That’s not the answer I want.” I rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling him flinch under the touch. “If you’re protecting someone, and I find out later, the consequences extend to your family. The same family you claim you were trying to protect.”

His breathing quickens. “Please, I’m telling the truth. It was only me. They approached me directly. No one else knew.”

“How did they approach you?”

The questions continue, methodical and thorough. I don’t raise my voice, don’t need to. The controlled calm is more effective than shouting would be, forcing Dmitri to focus on each answer while knowing that lies will be identified and punished.

Slowly, the full picture emerges. The Kravin Syndicate targeted him specifically because of gambling debts and family medical expenses, creating financial pressure and then offering a solution. No other Bratva members are compromised, but Dmitri provided detailed intelligence about security protocols, shipment routes, and personnel assignments.

The damage is significant but contained.

“You understand what happens now,” I say after the confession is complete.

Dmitri nods, tears streaming down his face. “Please, my family, they didn’t know anything—”

“Your family will be provided for.” I move back around to face him. “A pension, relocation assistance if they choose, and protection from any Kravin retaliation. That courtesy is extended because you eventually told the truth. You, however…”

I don’t finish the sentence. We both know how this ends.

“Viktor, Sergei, proceed with standard protocol. Make it clean and document everything for the council review.” I turn toward Mikhail. “Ensure the family receives the agreed compensation by end of week.”

“Understood.”

I’m nearly to the door when Dmitri’s voice stops me, broken and desperate. “I’m sorry!”

“I know.” I glance back at him. “That doesn’t change anything.”

The door closes behind me and Mikhail, cutting off the sound of Dmitri’s sobs. The hallway is quiet, sterile, designed to muffle whatever happens in these rooms.

“The Kravin situation is escalating,” Mikhail observes as we walk toward the stairs. “This is the third attempt at infiltration this quarter.”

“They’re testing our security ahead of something larger.” I consider the implications. “Increase internal surveillance, run background checks on anyone hired in the last six months, and put additional protection on key personnel.”

“Including your wife?”

The question makes me pause. “Especially my wife. She’s the most visible vulnerability right now.”

We’re discussing additional security protocols when I notice something—a flash of movement near the corridor entrance, too quick to be normal traffic, too deliberate to be coincidence.

Someone was watching.

I continue the conversation with Mikhail while tracking the movement peripherally, noting the direction and speed. By the time we reach the main floor, I have a good idea of who it was.

Serena.

Mikhail leaves to handle the documentation, and I make my way toward the office wing, already calculating how to address this particular complication. She wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near that corridor. The basement level is explicitly off-limits, and the staff knows better than to send her in that direction.

Which means she went there deliberately.

***

I’m reviewing security reports in my office when I hear footsteps in the hallway outside. Casual wandering.

The door opens without a knock.

Serena stands in the doorway, still wearing the sundress from earlier, though she’s added a cardigan against the evening chill. Her hair is slightly disheveled, and her expression carries a mixture of anger and something that might be shock.

“You need to learn to knock,” I say calmly, not looking up from the reports.