Page 10 of Lobanov Bratva Obsession
Opening his portfolio, Roman revealed, “I pulled the initial filings two hours ago. The named defendants are interesting.” He spread documents across the table. “GreenPoint Holdings. Baltic Imports LLC. Meridian Real Estate Trust.”
“Shell companies,” Viktor said flatly.
“Correct, brother. But, look at the registered agents,” Roman’s finger traced names I recognized with cold clarity, “Jonathan Kellerman. Marcus Chen. Dmitri Ivanovich.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Konstantin leaned forward, his knuckles white against the table’s edge. “Those aren’t soldiers. Those are—"
“Facilitators,” I finished. “The lawyers who file our paperwork. The accountants who clean our money. The consultants who make us look legitimate.”
“She’s not attacking our strength. She’s attacking our infrastructure,” Mikhail pointed out, nodding slowly.
“If the wrong name surfaces, it doesn’t just expose a traitor. It implicates half the old guard,” Konstantin stated.
“Worse,” Roman said, his voice carrying that particular quality it took on when he’d identified something truly catastrophic. “If discovery proceeds, if depositions happen, if even one of these men decides cooperation is preferable to prison…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
“We must act before discovery reaches critical mass,” Viktor declared, his steel gray eyes fixed on me. “You know what this means. She must be taken out.”
“Or we could move motions in our favor without necessarily eliminating the lawyer,” Konstantin suggested.
“Still on to this leverage potential idea of yours, Konstantin?” Mikhail inquired.
I didn’t say anything as my brothers argued about Elena’s fate.
“What I mean is, since this is most likely going public, if we can tweak the narrative, it could work for our legitimate side,” he explained, his gaze on Roman.
Roman was the Lobanov brother in charge of the Bratva’s legitimate businesses—the clubs, charity, and all—so he was the right person for Konstantin to look at.
“It’s too late for that now,” Viktor countered. “She must be silenced. Immediately.”
With the ultimate decision being made, I found that I couldn’t stay silent. A feeling of urgency and unease crept up my insides as I blurted out, “Killing her now would be catastrophic.”
Four pairs of eyes locked onto me.
“Explain,” Viktor demanded.
I swallowed, tamping down the funny emotions and allowing only logic to remain.
“The lawsuit’s already filed. She’s already made contact with federal prosecutors—she admitted as much. If she dies now, suspiciously, after being kidnapped by unknown assailants, what happens?”
I knew my angle made sense. But, internally, my thoughts betrayed me. Elena was no longer a variable; she was a fulcrum.
“Hm. It might intensify the investigation. Federal resources get allocated. Every name in those documents gets scrutinized regardless, “ Roman answered.
“Exactly. Dead lawyers make better martyrs than living ones,” I remarked, meeting Viktor’s stare. “We need to know what she knows. Who else has copies? What safeguards has she put in place? Killing her blind is suicide.”
Konstantin added, “He’s right. This requires precision, not brutality.”
Viktor was silent for another minute before he said, “We’ll put that on hold. Roman, what do we know at the moment?”
I felt a kind of relief that I never felt about a hostage’s death being put on hold. As Roman went through connected pieces of information concerning the lawsuit, I found myself replaying that calm voice of hers. I thought of how she always stood her ground every time I tried to assert dominance or even intimidate her. I thought of the heat in her gaze when she challenged me. And, damn, I couldn’t get that cool ‘thank you’ out of my head. Again, desire coiled beneath my restraint—and again, it was totally unwanted. Just that it was persistent this time.
The meeting continued for another hour, dissecting contingencies and assigning surveillance to the names Elena had exposed. By the time we adjourned, night was approaching.
*****
I entered her room without knocking, intent on reasserting dominance.
