Page 18 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)

Chapter seventeen

The War Council

M ila

I'm the only woman in the room, and I can feel the weight of curious stares as Alexei leads me to a chair beside his at the head of the table. Some of these men have probably never seen a Bratva boss's wife included in actual business discussions.

They're about to get an education.

"Gentlemen," Alexei says, his voice carrying the authority that makes grown criminals sit up straighter. "Thank you for coming on short notice. Most of you have met my wife, Mila. She'll be participating in today's discussion."

Dmitri, seated to Alexei's left, nods approvingly. But I catch the skeptical glances from some of the other men—dark looks that suggest they think I'm either decoration or liability.

"Before we begin," Alexei continues, "let me be clear about something. My wife is not here as an observer. She has skills that are essential to our operation against Roman Volkov, and her insights will be valued accordingly."

The words send a warm flutter through my chest. He's not just including me—he's establishing my authority, making it clear that disrespecting me means disrespecting him.

"Now," he says, settling into his chair with predatory grace. "What did Roman do?"

Boris stands, moving to the wall of monitors with the efficiency of a man who's delivered bad news before. "At approximately 2 AM, Roman's people hit three of our operations simultaneously. The shipping warehouse in Brooklyn, the construction office in Queens, and the restaurant in Manhattan."

"Casualties?" Alexei's voice is deadly calm.

"Minimal. Our people followed protocol and evacuated when they spotted the incoming teams. But the financial damage is significant."

Numbers appear on the central monitor—losses in the millions, operations disrupted, territory compromised. Roman wasn't just sending a message. He was crippling infrastructure.

"How?" I ask, and every head in the room turns toward me. "How did he know about all three locations? How did he coordinate simultaneous hits without us detecting the planning?"

Boris's expression shifts from skeptical to respectful. "That's the question we've been asking."

"Inside information," says a man I don't recognize—tall, scarred, with the kind of face that's seen too much violence. "Has to be. No other way to hit three targets that precisely."

"Or superior surveillance," I counter. "If Roman has been watching your operations for weeks, mapping routines, identifying vulnerabilities..."

"The girl has a point," Dmitri says, and I try not to bristle at being called "the girl." "We've been assuming infiltration, but systematic observation could provide the same intelligence."

Alexei leans back in his chair, pale green eyes thoughtful. "Show me the surveillance footage from all three locations. Everything from the past seventy-two hours."

"Sir," Boris says carefully, "that's hundreds of hours of footage."

"Then it's a good thing my wife is exceptionally skilled at pattern recognition and data analysis."

All eyes turn to me again, and I can see the moment when several of these men realize I'm not just the boss's pretty wife. I'm an asset.

"I'll need access to your security systems," I tell Boris. "Full admin privileges, not just viewing rights."

"Mrs. Morozov," he says respectfully, "our security protocols—"

"Can be temporarily modified," Alexei interrupts. "Give her everything she needs."

The next two hours are a blur of code and camera feeds and connections that slowly start to form a pattern.

Working with this level of access to Alexei's operations should feel wrong—I'm seeing financial records, personnel files, information that could destroy his organization if it fell into the wrong hands.

Instead, it feels like coming home. This is what I'm good at—finding needles in haystacks, identifying anomalies, seeing the forest when everyone else is focused on trees.

"There," I say finally, highlighting a series of data points on the main screen. "Roman didn't infiltrate your organization. He subcontracted it."

"Explain," Alexei says.

"Three different legitimate businesses provided services to your operations over the past month. A cleaning company, a security firm, and a catering service. All three have financial connections to shell companies that trace back to Roman's network."

Impressed murmurs ripple around the table. I can see men who were skeptical an hour ago now looking at me with something approaching awe.

"Brilliant," Dmitri says. "Use legitimate services to gather intelligence, then coordinate strikes based on the information."

"Which means," Alexei says grimly, "he has detailed knowledge of our security protocols, personnel schedules, and operational procedures."

"But it also means he's exposed himself," I add. "Those shell companies? They're the weak point in his network. If we can trace the money flow, we can identify other operations he's planning."

"How long would that take?" asks the scarred man.

"Give me six hours with Viktor's files and full access to financial databases. I can map Roman's entire shadow network."

"And then?" Boris asks.

Alexei's smile is sharp and predatory. "Then we turn his own strategy against him. We identify his operations, his personnel, his vulnerabilities. And we hit him harder than he hit us."

"Sir," says a younger man I haven't been introduced to, "Roman will be expecting retaliation. He'll have increased security, changed locations—"

"He'll be expecting conventional retaliation," I interrupt. "Muscle, violence, the traditional Bratva response. He won't be expecting cyberwarfare."

"Meaning?"

I look around the table at these dangerous, powerful men and smile.

"Meaning we don't just hit his operations.

We destroy his infrastructure. Bank accounts frozen, communications compromised, logistics networks crippled.

We make him realize that attacking the Morozov family was the worst mistake of his life. "

Silence falls over the room. Then, slowly, Dmitri starts to laugh.

"I like her," he tells Alexei. "Your wife has a devious mind."

"It's one of her many attractive qualities," Alexei says, and the pride in his voice makes my chest warm.

"There's one more thing," I add. "Roman's people will be monitoring your traditional communication channels, expecting you to coordinate a response. But they won't be watching for activity that looks like legitimate business communications."

"You're suggesting we coordinate through civilian networks?"

"I'm suggesting we coordinate through networks that don't exist yet. Give me access to your IT infrastructure, and I can build encrypted channels that will be invisible to Roman's surveillance."

Boris whistles low. "That's... actually brilliant."

"She is brilliant," Alexei says simply. "Which is why Roman made a critical error when he decided to target her family."

The possessive way he says " her family " makes heat pool low in my belly. These men see it too—the way Alexei looks at me, the pride and love and fierce protectiveness in his expression. I'm not just the boss's wife. I'm his partner, his equal, the woman he'd burn the world down for.

It's intoxicating.

"So," Dmitri says, "we have a plan. Mila maps Roman's network, we build new communication channels, and then we coordinate simultaneous strikes on his operations."

"The same strategy he used against us," Alexei confirms. "But better executed and with complete surprise."

"When do we move?" asks the scarred man.

"Forty-eight hours," Alexei says. "That gives us time to gather intelligence and coordinate properly."

"And in the meantime?" Boris asks.

"In the meantime, we make sure Roman thinks we're reacting exactly as expected. Increase visible security, make some noise about retaliation, let him think he's rattled us."

"While actually planning his destruction," I add with satisfaction.

"Exactly."

The meeting breaks up with assignments distributed and plans set in motion. As the men file out, I catch fragments of conversation—respectful references to "Mrs. Morozov's analysis" and "the boss's wife knows her business."

When we're finally alone, Alexei turns to me with an expression that's pure predatory satisfaction.

"You were magnificent," he says.

"Was I?"

"You just earned the respect of men who've spent decades in this business. You showed them a different way to think about warfare. You—"

I silence him with a kiss, sudden and fierce and full of adrenaline from the planning session. When we break apart, his eyes are dark with hunger.

"You're incredible when you're in command," I tell him. "Watching you run that meeting, seeing those dangerous men defer to your authority... it's incredibly attractive."

"Is that so?"

"Very much so."

His hands settle on my waist, pulling me closer. "And how do you plan to show your appreciation?"

"I was thinking—"

The conference room door opens, and Dmitri walks back in, stopping short when he sees us in each other's arms.

"Ah," he says with amusement. "I can see the post-meeting debriefing is going well."

I feel heat flood my cheeks, but Alexei doesn't let go of me. If anything, his hold tightens possessively.

"Did you need something, Dmitri?" he asks.

"Just wanted to say that your wife's analysis was exceptional. Viktor would be proud."

The words hit me unexpectedly hard. Viktor would be proud. I'm using the skills he taught me, the passion for justice he instilled in me, to honor his memory and protect the man he trusted.

"Thank you," I say softly.

"Don't thank me. You earned every bit of respect in that room." Dmitri pauses at the door. "And Alexei? Your father would be proud too. You've found yourself a true partner."

He leaves us alone again, and I can see the emotion in Alexei's eyes. Pride, love, and something that looks like wonder.

"A true partner," he repeats.

"Is that what I am?"

"You're everything. My wife, my partner, my equal in all things." He cups my face in his hands. "My future."

"And you're mine."

"Always."

We're interrupted by his phone buzzing—probably more business related to Roman's attacks. But for this moment, in this room where I just proved myself to his inner circle, we're not the Bratva prince and his wife. We're not even the targets of a dangerous enemy.

We're just two people in love, planning to take on the world together.

And I can't wait to see what we accomplish next.