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“She’s always finding trouble and jumping straight into it,” he muttered. “Even when I build her a palace to keep her away from it.”

I didn’t respond.

Because I got it.

I’d spent my life dragging people out of fires and she looked like someone who jumped in just to feel something.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” he said, softer now. Not scared, just tired. “And you and I both know there’s only so much I can do when she’s dead set on destruction.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” I said. “Because you’re right.”

“She needs to be handled,” he said. “But she doesn’t listen to me anymore.”

I didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

He exhaled like he knew what I was about to suggest, but he wanted to see if I had the balls to say it out loud.

I did.

“She needs a husband.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, then silence. Tension swirled around the quiet like smoke.

“Christ, Morozov.”

“She doesn’t want a leash. She wants someone who can hold the line. Someone who’ll meet her energy and bring her to heel when it matters. You know damn well she’s not gonna end up with some quiet trust fund banker or some prissy dentist.”

“She was supposed to have options,” he muttered. “Not end up locked in the Bratva’s house like some kind of damn?—”

“She won’t be locked anywhere. You know me better than that.” I let the words hang. “I don’t cage women. Ikeepthem. Safe. Satisfied. Loved, when they earn it.”

There was another pause, this one heavier.

“Look,” I continued, quieter now. “You and I—we built something together. We had an arrangement. You keep your seat, I keep the streets clean. You keep the cops off my back, I make sure no one’s running bloody fights in your district. You let me do my thing, I help you get elected. We both know someone worse than me would’ve taken over the fight circuit if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“And in return,” he finished, his voice softening, “you promised no deaths, no trafficking, nothing that would bleed into the headlines.”

“And I’ve kept my word.”

“You have,” he admitted.

“And now, I want her.” I said it flat. No threat in it, just truth. “Not to punish you. Not to corner her. I want her because she needs someone like me—and you know I’m right.”

He said nothing, but I heard the war raging inside his head.

He was a father, but he was also a survivor. He knew the kind of world his daughter was flirting with. Hell, he came from it. He was a DA who made backdoor deals with men like me. He leveraged sting ops to get to where he was—and he knew which devils were better to shake hands with and which were better to avoid.

“I can’t make her do anything,” he said finally. “You want her, convince her. I won’t stop you.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

“She won’t make it easy.”

“She’ll pout,” I said, smirking. “Probably throw something. Run her mouth.”

“You say that like you’re looking forward to it.”