Page 14 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)

Chapter thirteen

The Evidence

M ila

We spend the next six hours buried in Viktor's files, and with each document we uncover, the scope of Roman Volkov's operation becomes more terrifying.

It's like peeling back layers of an onion, except each layer reveals another level of corruption that makes my stomach turn. Money laundering through legitimate businesses. Human trafficking routes that span three continents. Blackmail schemes targeting politicians and law enforcement officials.

My brother died trying to expose this monster.

"This shipping company," I say, pointing to a financial record on Alexei's laptop screen. "Volkov Maritime Solutions. The numbers don't add up."

Alexei leans closer to look, his shoulder brushing against mine. Even focused on business, I'm hyperaware of his proximity—the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the way his presence makes me feel safe even when we're discussing something that could get us killed.

"How so?"

"They're reporting minimal cargo loads but massive fuel costs. Either they're the world's most inefficient shipping company, or they're moving something that doesn't appear on their official manifests."

"People."

The single word makes my blood run cold. We're not just talking about money or drugs. We're talking about human lives.

"How many?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

"Based on these numbers? Dozens per shipment. Maybe more."

I stare at the screen, trying to process the reality of what we're looking at. Somewhere right now, people are being transported like cargo because Roman Volkov decided their lives were worth less than his profit margins.

"We have to stop this," I say.

"We will."

"No, I mean now. Today. We can't just sit here analyzing data while people are being—"

"Mila." Alexei's hand covers mine, warm and steady. "I understand your urgency. But rushing in without a plan gets people killed. Including us."

"So what's the plan?"

"We gather everything we can from Viktor's files. We identify key vulnerabilities in Roman's network. And then we strike strategically, taking down the entire operation instead of just disrupting one shipment."

It makes sense logically, but emotionally it feels like cowardice. How can we sit here in comfort while other people suffer?

"I know what you're thinking," Alexei says quietly. "I can see it in your face. You think I'm being cold, calculating, letting perfect be the enemy of good."

"Aren't you?"

"I'm being strategic. There's a difference." He turns in his chair to face me fully. "Three years ago, I went in without a plan, driven by emotion and the need to save Viktor immediately. I got him killed and nearly got myself killed in the process."

The pain in his voice stops my argument cold. He's not being calculating—he's being careful. There's a difference, and it's written in the scar on his shoulder and the guilt he's carried for three years.

"I'm sorry," I say. "You're right. We need to be smart about this."

"Smart, but not slow. Every day we delay costs lives."

"So what's our timeline?"

"Two weeks to gather intelligence and build our case. Then we move."

I nod, turning back to the laptop. Two weeks to honor Viktor's memory and save lives. Two weeks to work alongside my husband and try not to fall completely in love with him in the process.

Too late for that, probably.

"This network diagram," I say, pointing to a file Viktor labeled 'Spider Web.' "He mapped out the connections between all of Roman's operations."

"Brilliant. Your brother really was remarkable."

The pride in Alexei's voice makes my chest warm. He genuinely respected Viktor, genuinely mourns his loss. It's not just guilt or obligation—it's real grief for a friend.

"He always was good at seeing patterns," I say. "Even as a kid, he could look at seemingly random information and find the connections everyone else missed."

"Like his sister."

"What do you mean?"

"You saw the patterns in those shipping records in minutes. Found the discrepancies that would have taken me hours to notice."

"Different skills, same brain, I guess."

We work in comfortable silence for a while, and I find myself stealing glances at Alexei when he's focused on the screen.

There's something incredibly attractive about watching him work—the intense concentration, the way he processes complex information with mathematical precision, the occasional Russian curse word when something particularly infuriating appears in the files.

"Mila."

"Hmm?"

"You're staring."

Heat floods my cheeks. "I was not staring. I was... observing."

"Observing what?"

"The way you think. It's fascinating."

His smile is slow and warm. "Fascinating how?"

"You see everything. Every detail, every connection, every possible consequence. It's like watching a chess master plan twenty moves ahead."

"And you find that attractive?"

"I find you attractive." The words slip out before I can stop them, honest and simple and completely true. His eyes darken, and suddenly the air between us feels charged with possibility.

"Mila," he says, his voice rougher than before.

"Yes?"

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to forget all about Roman Volkov and spend the rest of the day showing you exactly how attractive I find your brilliant mind."

"Would that be so terrible?"

"For our timeline? Yes. For my self-control? Absolutely."

I lean closer, letting my fingers brush against his on the keyboard. "What if I don't want you to have self-control?"

"Then you're playing with fire, little wife."

"I thought we established that I like the heat."

His sharp intake of breath is audible in the quiet study. For a moment, I think he's going to close the laptop and make good on his threat. Instead, he captures my hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm.

"After," he says against my skin. "When we've finished going through Viktor's files and planned our next move. Then I'll show you exactly what you do to me when you look at me like that."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The word sends heat shooting through me, but I force myself to focus on the task at hand. Work first, pleasure later. It's a reasonable approach, even if it's torture.

"This file," Alexei says, clicking on a document labeled 'Insurance.' "What do you think Viktor meant by that?"

I lean over to read, very aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to close the distance between us. "It's a list of names. Government officials, law enforcement, judges..."

"People Roman has compromised."

"Insurance policies," I realize. "People he can call on if he gets in trouble. People who owe him favors or are afraid of what he knows about them."

"Which means we can't trust anyone on this list."

I scan the names, my heart sinking as I recognize several high-ranking FBI officials. "Viktor was right to be paranoid. Roman has people everywhere."

"Not everywhere. But enough places to make this dangerous."

"So how do we proceed? If we can't trust law enforcement..."

"We find the clean ones. They exist—people like Agent Mariana Castillo, who's been trying to build a case against Roman for years but hasn't had the evidence she needs."

"You know her?"

"Dmitri has connections. Castillo is clean, ambitious, and frustrated by her inability to touch Roman despite knowing he's guilty."

"So we give her what she needs."

"Carefully. Through intermediaries. In a way that doesn't expose our involvement until we're ready."

I nod, making mental notes as we continue through the files. Every document reveals new horrors, new connections, new reasons why Roman Volkov needs to be stopped.

But they also reveal new dangers for us.

"Alexei," I say as we reach a file labeled 'Morozov Vulnerabilities.' "I think you need to see this."

His expression darkens as he reads Viktor's analysis of weaknesses in the Morozov organization. Security gaps, financial pressures, key personnel who might be vulnerable to corruption or coercion.

"Viktor was thorough," he says grimly.

"Too thorough. If Roman gets access to this information..."

"He could destroy my family's operation from the inside."

"Is that why you're being so careful? Not just to protect me, but to protect your people?"

"Both. Everything is connected, Mila. Your safety, my family's survival, the innocent people caught in Roman's web—it's all part of the same fight.

" The weight of responsibility in his voice makes my chest ache.

He's not just risking his own life by going after Roman.

He's risking everything and everyone he's sworn to protect.

"Maybe I should step back," I say quietly. "Let you handle this without—"

"No." The word is sharp, immediate, final.

"Alexei—"

"No, Mila. We're partners in this. I need your skills, your insight, your connection to Viktor's evidence. But more than that, I need you."

"Why?"

"Because you remind me why this matters. When I look at those shipping records and see numbers, you see the people being trafficked. When I analyze Roman's financial network, you see the families being destroyed. You keep me human."

The simple words hit me harder than any declaration of love could. He needs me. Not just for my technical skills or my connection to Viktor, but for something deeper. Something essential.

"Okay," I say. "Partners."

"Partners."

We work until late afternoon, mapping out Roman's empire with the methodical precision of surgeons preparing for a complex operation. By the time we finally close the laptop, we have a clear picture of our enemy and a rough plan for bringing him down.

We also have something else—a partnership built on mutual respect, shared purpose, and growing trust.

"Dinner?" Alexei asks, stretching muscles that have been tense for hours.

"Please. My brain feels like it's been through a blender."

"Irina is making lamb tonight. With that mint sauce you liked."

The fact that he noticed my reaction to a sauce at one meal makes warmth bloom in my chest. He pays attention to the small things, the details that matter.

"Sounds perfect."

We're heading toward the door when Alexei's phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, and his expression immediately shifts to high alert.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Boris. There's been movement on the perimeter. Vehicles, surveillance equipment. Someone's watching the estate."

My blood turns to ice water. "Roman?"

"Most likely."

"What do we do?"

Alexei's smile is sharp and predatory. "We let him watch. And we make sure he sees exactly what he's up against."

The words should scare me. Instead, they make me feel fierce and protective and ready for whatever comes next.

Roman Volkov wants a war? Fine. He can have one.

But he's going to learn that attacking the Morozov family—attacking my family—comes with consequences he's not prepared for.