Page 141 of Bratva Bidder

And when we crawl into bed, curled together beneath too-thin sheets, he finally lets himself sleep.

When I wake, the light in the room is pale and hesitant—just enough to cast long, soft lines across Konstantin’s back as he breathes beside me. His arm is slung across my waist like he’s still afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.

I don’t move. There’s a peace in this moment I don’t want to disturb.

But peace doesn’t last long in our world.

A knock sounds at the bedroom door—quiet, but deliberate. Konstantin shifts instantly, alert even in sleep, and when I touch his shoulder, he opens his eyes.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll get it.”

He nods, rubbing his face with both hands as I slip on one of his shirts and pad barefoot to the door.

It’s Lev.

He looks like he hasn’t slept, which means he probably hasn’t. His shirt is half-untucked, gun holstered beneath his arm, jaw peppered with stubble.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low. “Didn’t want to wake him.”

“He’s already up,” I say, stepping aside.

Konstantin appears behind me a second later, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, damp hair pushed back. There’s no trace of sleep in his eyes now—just calculation. He’s switched back into soldier mode, even if his hands linger for a second on my back before dropping away.

“What’s the damage?” he asks.

Lev exhales. “Warehouse is gone. We’ve lost at least five. One we’re still trying to confirm. No names yet.”

Konstantin nods once. “Any movement from my father?”

“Not yet. But it was him.”

“No doubt in my mind,” Konstantin says. “It had to be Dmitry.”

31

KONSTANTIN

There’s a long pause,the kind that says everyone’s thinking the same thing but no one wants to say it aloud. “What about the doctor?” I ask. “He made it out?”

“He’s safe, yeah,” Lev replies. He’s silent for a moment before he speaks again. “But are you sure it was right to let the doctor go?”

I don’t answer right away. I’m staring out the window, watching the wind nudge the branches of the elm trees that line the side fence. The warehouse is gone. Too many of my men are gone. And the doctor—our one shot at a quiet miracle for my son—is gone too.

“I couldn’t risk it anymore,” I say finally. “He was compromised the second he stepped out of that clinic. If they wanted to silence him, they would’ve done it with a bullet. But they didn’t. That means he’s leverage now. And I won’t have my son’s life turned into a bargaining chip.”

Lev nods slowly, arms crossed, his jaw working like he wants to argue but can’t quite find the ground to stand on. “So what now?” he asks.

“We come up with something else,” I say. The words feel like ash in my mouth. “We find another way to help Nikolai.”

Lev shifts his weight, looks down, then back up at me. “That’s easier said than done.”

“Everything is,” I reply. “But I didn’t make it this far by doing what was easy.”

Behind me, Nadya leans against the wall, silent. But I can feel her watching me, the weight of her presence a quiet tether keeping me from slipping too deep into the dark.

We don’t have a plan yet. Not a solid one. Not the kind that will buy my son a future without Dmitry’s shadow hanging over him.

But we’ll build one. Because there’s no other choice.