Page 98 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
Sophia grins. "Mariya was just telling me about the time she convinced you to try cooking."
I raise an eyebrow. "That's classified information."
"Too late." Mariya's smile widens. "I already told her about the smoke alarm incident."
"Traitor," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
I settle into the chair across from them, letting their easy conversation wash over me. They talk about everything and nothing. Books they've read and places they want to visit. The kind of things Mariya deserves to have in her life.
After a while, I stand. "I need to get some work done. You two keep plotting against me."
Mariya's smile softens. "We would never."
"Liar." I lean down and kiss her forehead. "I'll be in my office if you need me."
She catches my hand briefly, squeezing it. A silent thank you for giving her this space, this friendship. I squeeze back and head down the hall.
My office is quiet when I enter, the afternoon light streaming through the windows. I settle behind my desk and pull out the files we've been compiling on Bogdan's associates, trying to find a weak point we can exploit.
I'm deep in the documents when my phone rings.
Unknown number.
My jaw tightens. I've had enough of these calls. But something makes me answer anyway.
"Yes?"
"Andrey Melnikov." The voice is male, older, with an accent I recognize immediately.
My entire body goes rigid. "Yegor Pushkin."
Mariya's father.
"I've given you all the clues I could," he says, his tone sharp with impatience. "When are you going to do something about it?"
45
MARIYA
Istand at the window in the main sitting room, my fingers pressed against the cool glass as I watch the controlled chaos unfolding across the estate grounds. Guards move with purpose between buildings, their voices carrying faintly through the morning air. SUVs are being prepped near the garage, engines running, and doors open as men load weapons and check communications equipment.
Today is the day.
After weeks of careful planning, strategic strikes, and calculated pressure, Andrey is finally ready to confront Bogdan directly. The Pakhan’s empire has been systematically dismantled piece by piece, his operations disrupted, his allies turned or neutralized, and his resources drained. What remains is a shell of what it once was, and Andrey intends to finish it this morning.
The thought makes my stomach twist with anxiety.
Sophia sits on the couch behind me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She hasn't said much this morning, just stared at the floor with that haunted expression she gets when the guiltbecomes too heavy. I know she's been helping Andrey gather intelligence on Bogdan's remaining operations, feeding him information about weaknesses and vulnerabilities she learned during her time in that house.
She's been invaluable. But the cost of that help weighs on her.
I turn away from the window and move to sit beside her, reaching over to squeeze her hand. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly despite the warmth of the room.
"He'll be fine," I say quietly, though I'm not sure if I'm trying to reassure her or myself.
Sophia's dark eyes meet mine, and I see the fear there. "What if something goes wrong? What if he doesn't accept the offer? What if?—"
"Andrey knows what he's doing," I interrupt gently. "He's been planning this for weeks. He has backup, security, and every possible scenario mapped out."
