Page 26 of Crystal Wrath (Rostov Bratva #1)

The vors file in one by one over the next few minutes. Artur arrives first. His weathered face is grim. He's been with my family since before I was born, one of the few men who knew my father personally. If he says there's a mole, then there's a mole.

Eduard enters next, his nervous energy immediately apparent. He fidgets with his sleeves and can't seem to meet my eyes directly. His wife recently gave birth to their first child, and the new responsibility has made him jumpy. But nervous men make mistakes, and mistakes can be exploited.

Peter follows, solid and dependable as always. He runs the port operations with an iron fist, ensuring our shipments move smoothly through customs. His crew respects him, and he's never given me a reason to doubt his loyalty.

Anatoly strides in with his characteristic confidence. He's younger than the others, ambitious, and eager to prove himself. He runs security for several of our legitimate businesses, and he's been asking questions about Elena. That makes him dangerous.

Andrei arrives last, apologizing for his lateness. He handles our overseas contacts, maintaining relationships with suppliers and distributors across Eastern Europe. His work requires discretion and trust, qualities that can be easily turned against us.

Sergey takes his position near the door, ready to prevent anyone from leaving if necessary. His hand rests casually near his weapon, a subtle reminder of the stakes involved.

“Thank you for coming,” I begin, my tone calm but threaded with a quiet menace. “There's been chatter. Something rotten in the air.”

The men glance at one another, tension crackling between them like electricity. No one speaks, but I can see the wheels turning in their minds. They're all calculating, wondering who might be the target of my suspicion.

“A mole,” I continue, letting the word hang in the air like a blade. “I've received word someone has been leaking information. I want to know who.”

The silence stretches until it becomes a weapon. I let it build, watching their faces for any sign of guilt or fear. Years of experience have taught me that guilty men always reveal themselves eventually. They sweat, they fidget, they look everywhere except at me.

“I'm not here to play games,” I add, my voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carries more menace than shouting. “Each of you will speak. You'll update me on your operations, your contacts, and your movements. We're going to sort this out today.”

Artur goes first, detailing a recent shipment routed through the Everglades. The route was clean from start to finish, with no interference from law enforcement or rival organizations. His report is thorough and professional, exactly what I'd expect from a man of his experience.

Eduard's construction crew has been managing a new luxury complex near Brickell. The project is on schedule and under budget, with no complications. But his voice wavers slightly when he mentions the timeline and sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning.

Peter's been handling the port with his usual efficiency. Container shipments are moving smoothly, and he's established new relationships with customs officials who appreciate our generous donations to their retirement funds. His report is solid, confident, and detailed.

Anatoly runs security for our legitimate businesses, and he's been expanding his team to cover new properties.

He mentions increased police presence in certain areas, but nothing that can't be managed with the right incentives.

His confidence is unwavering, but there's something in his eyes that bothers me.

Andrei's been liaising with overseas contacts, maintaining the supply chains that keep our operations profitable. He's secured new partnerships in Prague and Budapest, expanding our reach into markets Bennato can't touch. His enthusiasm seems genuine, but enthusiasm can be faked.

Nothing jumps out as obviously suspicious. But I watch their faces, cataloging every twitch, every shift in tone, every deflection. I've built my reputation on reading people, on seeing through lies and facades. If there's deception in this room, I'll find it.

I wait until the final man speaks, then let silence fall again like a heavy curtain. The tension in the room is palpable now, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“There's also been talk,” I add slowly, my voice taking on a conversational tone, “about a journalist sniffing around Bennato's operations.”

They shift again, and this time, the reaction is more pronounced. Eduard stiffens slightly, his shoulders drawing up toward his ears. Peter's brow dips in concentration as if he's trying to remember something important. Andrei chuckles like it's nothing, but the sound is forced and hollow.

“Anyone know who she is?” I continue to study each face. “Young. Cuban American. Tenacious.”

A glimmer of something passes over Anatoly's face. Recognition? Worry? Fear? It's gone too quickly for me to be certain, but it's enough to make my instincts scream.

“No one?”

They all shake their heads, but some do it more convincingly than others. Artur's denial is firm and immediate. Peter looks genuinely puzzled. But Anatoly's response comes a fraction of a second too late, and Eduard won't meet my eyes at all.

“Then if you find anything, you'll bring it to me directly. Is that understood?”

A chorus of yeses fills the room, accompanied by nods and assurances of loyalty. But obedience means nothing when I no longer know who I can trust. Words are cheap, and loyalty can be bought by the highest bidder.

I dismiss them with a wave of my hand, watching as they file out of the room.

Each man leaves differently. Artur walks with the confidence of someone who has nothing to hide.

Peter moves with purpose, already planning his next steps.

Eduard hurries out like he can't wait to escape my presence.

Anatoly maintains his swagger, but I notice his hands trembling slightly.

Andrei offers one last smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Sergey remains, as I knew he would. He's been my second-in-command for years, my most trusted advisor and enforcer. If I can't trust him, then I can't trust anyone.

“Well?” he asks once the door closes behind the others.

I lean back in my chair and let out a slow breath. “I didn't see it. Not clearly. Not in any of them. If there's a traitor, they're hiding it well.”

Sergey's mouth pulls into a thin line. “What now?”

“We dig.” I stand and walk to the window, pulling back the curtain to look out at the city sprawling below. “We watch. We listen. We set traps.”

The idea of setting traps for my own men leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. These are people I've trusted with my life, my secrets, my empire. The thought that one of them might be betraying me to my enemies makes my blood burn with rage.

“I want you on this personally,” I tell him, turning back to face him. “No one else. Quietly. Whoever it is, they're close enough to do real damage.”

Sergey gives a short, clipped nod. “I'll start surveillance immediately. Phone taps, financial records, travel patterns. If someone's been feeding information to Bennato, they've left a trail.”

“Good. But be careful. If they suspect we're onto them, they might run. Or worse, they might escalate.”

The thought of escalation makes my skin crawl. If the mole decides to make a preemptive strike, Elena becomes an obvious target. She's my weakness, and everyone just confirmed they know about her existence whether they said it aloud or not.

“Sergey,” I add, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I want protection on Elena doubled. No one gets near her without my explicit permission.”

Something shifts in his eyes. Surprise? Resentment? It's gone before I can analyze it properly.

“Of course,” he replies. “'ll assign additional guards immediately.”

He turns to leave, but I stop him with a raised hand.

“And Sergey,” I add, my voice low and deadly serious. “If you find something, bring it to me first. No one else. No matter what you discover, no matter who it implicates, you come to me.”

He glances back, his expression blank. “Of course.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my fears. I walk back to the window and stare out at Miami, thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

If there's a mole in my organization, they know about Elena. They know she's here, under my protection, sharing my bed. They now know exactly how to hurt me. The realization makes my hands clench into fists.

I've spent years building walls around myself, keeping everyone at arm's length to avoid exactly this vulnerability.

I've been careful never to care too much about anyone, never to let emotion cloud my judgment.

But Elena has shattered those defenses with her stubborn courage and fierce independence.

Now, that weakness could destroy everything I've built.

But as I stand here, watching the sun climb higher over the city I've claimed as my own, I realize something that should terrify me but doesn't. I don't care. Let them come for me. Let them try to use her against me. I'll burn this entire city to the ground before I let anyone hurt her.

The mole thinks they hold power over me. They believe knowing about Elena gives them leverage. But they're wrong. It doesn't make me weaker. It makes me infinitely more dangerous.