Page 39 of Bratva Bride

Dima gapes. “They said that name? Varna Quay?”

Rifat whistles under his breath. “Sounds like the kind of place people go when they want to disappear.”

Katya nods. “If that key belongs to one of those suites…”

“Then we have something,” I say.

Dima’s already typing. “I’ll see what I can find. If bookings exist under shell names or fake IDs, it’ll take time—but if any name connects back to Alexei, or his people…”

Katya glances at me. “What about Konstantin? Does he know about this?”

I hesitate for a second too long.

Dima catches it. “He doesn’t.”

“He’s…dealing with other things right now,” I say. “Besides, I’m not going to bring him half a theory based on brunch gossip.”

“Not gossip,” Katya says pointedly. “You’re just using their bad taste in men against them.”

“Exactly.” I smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Let’s keep this between us until we’re sure. I want to know who’s been using that suite.”

Rifat whistles low. “Private suites like that don’t just hold poker chips and mistresses. We’re talking documents, weapons logs, blackmail material.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Maybe he meant to steal it,” I say. “Maybe he planned to. If he was about to double-cross someone, maybe this was his next move.”

We gather around the apartment’s narrow dining table, maps, tablets, and old blueprints laid out in front of us. The apartment smells faintly of instant coffee and cheap floor polish. Arman’s men have already secured the place with extra locks and motion sensors. It isn’t meant to feel like home. Just a base.

“It doesn’t matter how the key got there,” I say, “only that it leads somewhere. And that somewhere might be important.”

“Varna Quay is discreet,” Katya says, pulling her laptop forward. “No security cams in the halls. Guests pay double for privacy. Perfect place to store…whatever they don’t want on record.”

Dima tilts his screen toward us. “Here. There’s a maintenance corridor that runs behind the west wing of the suites. There’s also a private service elevator connected to the underground lot. Some of the older staff still use key cards. If we replicate this one, we might get access during a changeover window.”

“How did you even get that?” I ask, looking over his shoulder.

Dima just shrugs.

“What’s the changeover window?” I ask.

“Ten to fifteen minutes. Maybe less if someone lingers.”

“Can you spoof the logs?” Arman asks.

Dima gives a tight smile. “Already working on it.”

“What about the exterior? Fire escapes, alternate exits?” I ask.

“Two side stairwells. One leads to the alley, the other connects to a closed-off rooftop lounge. I’ll scope both,” Dima says.

I run a hand through my hair. “Okay. We time this right, we get in and out without being noticed.”

“And if it’s empty?” Arman asks.

“Then we find out why it was important enough to need that level of access.”

He studies me for a moment. “And if it’s not?”

I hold his gaze. “Then we adapt.”