Page 60 of Forced Marriage to the Cruel Bratva Pakhan

“Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I understand perfectly.” His voice is cold now, controlled in ways that feel more dangerous than anger.“You want autonomy. Freedom to make choices without my interference. Even if those choices put you in danger.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

He leaves before I can respond, closing the door with controlled precision that’s somehow worse than slamming it.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Pavel

The intercepted communications arrive at 3:00 a.m., delivered by Viktor with an expression that tells me I’m not going to like what’s inside before I even open the file.

“Kravin Syndicate remnants,” he says quietly, setting the tablet on my desk. “Not from Kravin himself. It’s all encrypted messages we’ve been monitoring since Anton’s escape. This one came through an hour ago.”

I scan the contents, my Russian fluent enough to translate without difficulty despite the coded language they’re attempting. Financial transfers. Meeting coordinates. Strategic intelligence about Bratva operations.

At the bottom, a signature that makes ice settle in my chest:S. Souris.

Senator Souris. Serena’s father.

“How long has this been going on?” My voice is carefully controlled despite the rage building underneath.

“We’re still tracing the full timeline, but based on message patterns, at least three months.” Viktor shifts uncomfortably. “Since before the marriage arrangement was finalized.”

Three months. Before I forced Serena into this marriage. Before I brought her into my home, my bed, my life.

The marriage wasn’t just about securing political alliance. It was about embedding a surveillance asset directly into my household.

“What information has been compromised?” I force myself to think tactically, to push past the personal betrayal and focus on operational damage.

“Shipping routes. Guard rotations. Financial accounts we use for legitimate business operations.” Viktor pulls up additional files. “Nothing catastrophic yet, but enough to give the Kravin Syndicate strategic advantage they shouldn’t have. They’ve been using the intelligence to avoid our security, undercut our business negotiations, position themselves ahead of our moves.”

I study the communications again, looking for any indication of how Souris is obtaining this information. The details are too specific to be guesswork or public knowledge. Someone is feeding him intelligence from inside the organization.

Or someone he has access to is observing and reporting without realizing the significance of what they’re sharing.

Serena.

The thought surfaces with sickening clarity. She’s been in my office regularly for weeks now. Sitting in on meetings, overhearing conversations, gaining access to operational details I’ve deliberately included her in as part of building partnership.

Access I gave her because I trusted her. I’m a fucking fool who let emotion compromise judgment.

“Sir?” Viktor’s voice pulls me back. “What are your orders?”

“Increase surveillance on all external communications from the household, and confiscate her cell phone. I want every interaction monitored and analyzed.” I set down the tablet with controlled precision. “I want Senator Souris’s movements tracked. Where he goes, who he meets, what he’s planning.”

“Mrs. Rudenko?” The question is careful, neutral.

“What about her?”

“Do you want surveillance on her as well? If her father is the leak, she might be—”

“No.” The refusal is immediate and absolute. “Serena doesn’t get monitored like a threat.”

Viktor’s expression suggests he thinks that’s a mistake, but he’s smart enough not to argue. “Understood. I’ll coordinate with the team and have preliminary reports by morning.”

He leaves, and I’m alone with the evidence of betrayal and the questions eating away at certainty I thought was absolute.

Could Serena have known?