Page 26 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)

Chapter twenty-four

The Trap

A lexei

The intelligence comes together faster than expected, and it's worse than I feared.

Elena Volkov hasn't just been watching us—she's been systematically dismantling our security from the inside. Three of our suppliers have been compromised, two of our safe houses have been mapped, and one of our newer associates has been feeding her information for months.

She's not planning revenge. She's planning conquest.

"The operation begins tomorrow night," Dmitri explains, spreading reconnaissance photos across my desk. "Elena's holed up in a warehouse complex in Red Hook. Minimal security, but the building itself is a fortress. Once we go in, there's no subtle exit strategy."

"How minimal is minimal?" I ask.

"Twelve men that we can identify. Probably more inside."

"Weapons?"

"Military grade. Elena has connections to several arms dealers who worked with Roman."

"Civilians?"

"The warehouse is isolated. Industrial district, no residential buildings within a half-mile radius."

Good. The last thing I need is innocent casualties complicating an already messy situation.

"Timeline?" I ask.

"Entry at 0200. Elena doesn't sleep much, but her security team rotates shifts at midnight. We'll have a two-hour window of reduced alertness."

"And extraction?"

"Twenty minutes, maximum. Any longer and we risk police response or reinforcements arriving."

I study the photos, memorizing entry points and sight lines, calculating risks and contingencies. This isn't just another business elimination—this is personal. Elena threatened my unborn child, and that makes her death a necessity rather than a preference.

"Sir?" Boris appears in the doorway, his expression grim. "We have another problem."

"What now?"

"Mrs. Morozov. She's been asking questions about tonight's operation. Wanting to know her role, how she can help."

Of course she has. My brilliant, stubborn wife who can't stand being sidelined when important decisions are being made.

"Where is she now?"

"Library. Reading pregnancy books and pretending she's not planning something."

"Pretending?"

"She's been asking Irina about security rotations and shift changes. Very casual questions, but..."

But Mila doesn't ask casual questions about anything. When she's gathering information, it's because she's planning to use it.

"Watch her," I tell Boris. "Discreetly. If she tries to leave the house or do anything that could compromise tonight's operation..."

"Sir?"

"Lock her in our bedroom if you have to. This operation happens without her involvement."

"Understood."

Dmitri waits until Boris leaves before speaking. "She won't forgive you for that."

"She'll be alive to hate me. That's all that matters."

"And if the operation goes wrong? If something happens to you?"

"Then you make sure she and the baby are protected. Get them out of the country if necessary, set them up somewhere Elena can't reach them."

"Alexei—"

"Promise me, Dmitri. Whatever happens tonight, Mila and our child survive."

The older man nods grimly. "I promise."

The rest of the afternoon passes in final preparations and equipment checks.

Elena Volkov has made the same mistake as her brother—she's let emotion override strategy, allowed personal feelings to drive tactical decisions.

By threatening my family, she's forced me into a corner where negotiation isn't possible.

She wants war? She's about to get more war than she can handle.

I'm in the armory selecting weapons when Mila finds me.

"Going somewhere?" she asks, leaning against the doorway with studied casualness.

"Business meeting."

"The kind that requires automatic weapons?"

"The most important kind."

She moves closer, and I can see the determination in her dark eyes. My wife has made a decision about something, and experience tells me I'm not going to like what it is.

"I want to go with you," she says.

"No."

"I want to help end this threat to our family."

"You'll help by staying here where it's safe."

"Alexei, Elena Volkov threatened our baby. Our child who hasn't even been born yet. I have just as much right as you do to make sure she can never do it again."

"You have the right to be protected while I handle the threat."

"I have the right to be your partner in all things, remember? That's what we agreed when we got married."

"That was before you were pregnant."

"Pregnancy doesn't make me helpless."

"It makes you vulnerable. It makes you a target I can't afford to lose."

"And sitting here helplessly while you risk your life makes me crazy."

I set down the rifle I was examining and turn to face her fully. She's beautiful in the afternoon light streaming through the armory windows—cheeks flushed with emotion, eyes bright with determination, one hand resting unconsciously on her still-flat stomach.

"Mila," I say carefully, "what exactly are you planning?"

"I'm planning to be useful. Elena has been infiltrating our organization through legitimate business connections. I can trace those connections, identify other compromised assets, make sure we're not walking into a larger trap."

"From here. Using our secure systems."

"From the command vehicle during the operation. Real-time analysis, immediate tactical support."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because command vehicles can be targeted. Because real-time operations can go wrong in unexpected ways. Because I need to focus on eliminating Elena without worrying about your safety."

"You won't be worrying about my safety if I'm safely positioned in an armored vehicle with professional protection."

"I'll be worrying about your safety as long as you're anywhere near a combat situation."

We stare at each other across the armory, and I can see her weighing arguments and counterarguments, looking for the leverage that will change my mind.

"Elena knows about our baby," she says finally.

"Yes."

"She's been watching us for months, learning our routines, identifying our weaknesses."

"Yes."

"What if this warehouse operation is exactly what she wants? What if she's counting on you coming after her?"

The question stops me cold. "Explain."

"Think about it strategically. Elena sends a threatening gift that she knows will provoke a response. Then she positions herself in an obvious location with minimal security that happens to be perfectly isolated for a violent confrontation."

"You think the warehouse is a trap."

"I think Elena is smarter than her brother, and Roman never made anything easy for us."

"If it's a trap, then staying away is exactly what we should do."

"If it's a trap, then going in without complete intelligence is exactly what she's counting on."

I process this, running through tactical scenarios and risk assessments. If Mila is right—if Elena is deliberately baiting us into a confrontation on her terms—then everything about tonight's operation needs to be reconsidered.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Real-time surveillance and counter-surveillance. Full spectrum analysis of the operation as it unfolds. The kind of tactical support that can only come from someone who understands both technology and Elena's psychological profile."

"From you."

"From me."

"In a command vehicle outside a potential combat zone."

"In a command vehicle with full communication capabilities and immediate extraction protocols if things go wrong."

I want to say no. Every protective instinct I have is screaming at me to lock her in our bedroom and handle Elena without any risk to my pregnant wife.

But Mila is right about one thing—she understands Elena's psychology better than anyone on my team. She's the one who identified the handwriting, connected the catering company, saw the patterns that led us to Elena in the first place.

"Conditions," I say finally.

"I'm listening."

"Armored vehicle, professional driver, two-man security detail minimum. You stay in the vehicle at all times, no exceptions. First sign of trouble, you're extracted immediately whether the operation is complete or not."

"Agreed."

"And if something happens to me, you follow Dmitri's evacuation protocols without argument. You get yourself and our baby to safety, and you don't try to be a hero."

"Alexei—"

"Promise me, Mila. If tonight goes wrong, if Elena succeeds in whatever she's planning, you protect our child above everything else."

The request hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us wants to consider. The possibility that Elena is better at this game than we realized. The possibility that tonight might be the last time we have this conversation.

"I promise," she says quietly. "But nothing's going to happen to you."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you're too stubborn to die before seeing our baby."

"True."

"And because I'll be watching your back from the command vehicle."

"Also true."

I cross the armory and pull her into my arms, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the underlying sweetness that's uniquely hers.

"I love you," I tell her. "Whatever happens tonight, whatever we face, I need you to know that marrying you was the best decision I ever made."

"I love you too."

"And I love our baby."

"Our baby loves you back."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's part of me, and I love you completely."

The words echo what she said after our first ultrasound, and they hit me just as hard now. This woman who came into my life planning revenge has become my everything—my partner, my future, the mother of my children.

"Come here," I say, leading her toward the small office attached to the armory.

"Where?"

"I want to show you how much I love you before we head into whatever Elena has planned."

"Is that a good idea? We should be preparing—"

"This is preparing. This is reminding ourselves what we're fighting for."

The office is small and private, with a desk and chair and a couch I've never used for anything more intimate than reading reports. But right now, it feels like the most important room in the world.

"Alexei," she says as I start unbuttoning her blouse, "we don't have time—"

"We have exactly enough time."

"But the operation—"

"Can wait twenty minutes while I remind my wife how much she means to me."

I silence her protests with a kiss that's desperate and hungry and full of all the things I can't say out loud.

The fear that tonight might go wrong. The knowledge that Elena is more dangerous than we've given her credit for.

The overwhelming need to connect with the woman I love before walking into potential violence.

"I need you," I murmur against her lips.

"I need you too."

"I need to feel you, to know you're real and safe and mine."

"I'm yours. Always yours."

She helps me undress her, and when she's naked in the afternoon light, I can see the subtle changes that pregnancy has brought. The fuller breasts, the slight rounding of her hips, the glow that makes her even more beautiful than before.

"You're magnificent," I tell her.

"I'm yours."

"Mine to love, mine to protect, mine to cherish."

"And yours to worry about during dangerous operations."

"Especially that."

I lay her down on the couch with reverent care, then follow her down to worship every inch of skin I can reach. She responds with soft moans and arching movements that make my blood run hot.

"I want you," she gasps as my mouth finds her breast.

"You have me."

"I want all of you. Right now, right here, like we're the only two people in the world."

"We are the only two people in the world."

When I enter her, it's with the desperate intensity of a man who might not get another chance. She meets my urgency with her own, her body moving beneath mine with perfect synchronization.

"I love you," she pants as we move together. "I love you so much it scares me."

"Don't be scared. Be sure."

"Sure of what?"

"Sure that we're going to survive tonight. Sure that we're going to raise our baby together. Sure that Elena Volkov is just another obstacle we'll overcome."

"I'm sure."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

The climax builds fast and hard, fueled by desperation and love and the knowledge that everything we care about is at stake. When she comes apart beneath me, it's with my name on her lips and tears in her eyes.

I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck as pleasure crashes through me like a storm.

Afterward, we lie tangled together on the narrow couch, hearts still racing from more than just physical exertion.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Ready."

"No second thoughts about tonight?"

"None. Elena threatened our family. She needs to pay for that."

"Even if it means violence?"

"Especially if it means violence."

The fierce determination in her voice reminds me that beneath the brilliant analyst and loving wife is a woman who killed Roman Volkov to protect her family. A woman who's more than capable of handling whatever tonight brings.

"Then let's go end this," I say.

"Together?"

"Together."

We dress in comfortable silence, both of us mentally preparing for what's coming. By the time we head back to the main house, the sun is setting and Dmitri's teams are making final preparations.

Tonight, Elena Volkov learns what happens when someone threatens the Morozov family.

And if we're very lucky, we all survive to see tomorrow.