Page 26 of Bratva Bride

But I don’t know where to move next. Not yet. And when that happens—when the map doesn’t look familiar—I need to call someone who knows how to redraw it.

I pull out my phone, scroll through until I reach the number Viktor gave me. I haven’t used it yet. But I dial it now.

He picks up before the second ring.

“Konstantin,” he says, his voice unbothered, like he was expecting the call.

“One of my warehouses was hit tonight,” I say. “Someone was probing. I don’t know who.”

A pause.

“And?”

“I need a secure location to reroute an incoming shipment. Quiet. Temporary. But protected.”

“You’re asking for a favor.”

“I’m asking for advice,” I say evenly.

“Hmm. You know, the last time I gave you advice, you accused me of baiting you into something.”

“Because you were.”

He chuckles, low and short. “Touché.”

I wait. He likes the silence—it gives him room to feel in control. But I know how to wait too.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ll send you a location. Outside Long Beach. No one will trace it back to you, that I can guarantee.”

He hangs up.

I stare at the darkened phone screen for a moment, feeling the edge of something tightening around us. The game is shifting. Whoever hit the warehouse knows what they’re doing. And Viktor—he never does anything for free.

I pocket the phone and turn back to Maksim. “Call in a second crew. Lock this place down for now. We’ll reroute the shipment to a new facility. I’ll send the coordinates.”

Maksim nods once, not asking questions, and I step out into the cool night, the sea breeze washing over me.

I can feel it in my bones—this wasn’t random. Something is coming. And I’m running out of time to stay ahead of it.

My mind races through possibilities—rival crews, old enemies, ambitious outsiders. But this doesn’t smell like Bratva infighting. Whoever hit us wanted to be seen, but not known.

I step out onto the loading dock, where Maksim is already barking orders to two younger men who arrived while I was inside. They look nervous, glancing between the shadows at the fence line and the broken lock near the entrance.

I wave Maksim over. “Get the word out—nobody talks about tonight. Not to anyone outside this crew. If there are questions, tell them the shipment was delayed and nothing more.”

He nods. “And the guards?”

“Quietly paid. Their families get a bonus, and they keep their mouths shut.”

He folds his arms, watching me. “Who do you think it was?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” I say, voice low.

Back in the car, I sit in the passenger seat while Maksim drives. I don’t speak, not yet. The city glides past the windows, glittering and silent. My phone buzzes—Viktor’s text. Coordinates, as promised. A warehouse in a dead zone near Long Beach. I forward it to Maksim and close the message.

He breaks the silence first. “What now?”

“We lock it down. I want full surveillance by tomorrow morning.”