Page 19 of Deadly Legacy (The House of Matvei #3)

“ T he warehouse attacks aren’t the point.” Nikon slammed his fist against the wooden desk in Grigorii’s study, the impact sending ripples through his vodka glass.

Despite the few hours that had passed since Reuben’s return, exhaustion hadn’t dulled his rage. The morning sun now streamed through the windows, marking a night without rest for any of them. “They’re a message. Dmitrii wants us to know he can reach us anywhere, anytime.”

Grigorii stood at the window, his massive silhouette outlined against the morning sky. “So, what’s your solution? Start a war in the middle of the city?”

“I want him dead.” The words emerged as glacial, not heated. Nikon lifted his glass, draining it in one swallow. The burn of alcohol couldn’t mask the fatigue behind his eyes, but it kept him focused. “I want him to stop breathing the same air as Reuben. As any of us.”

“You know better than that.” Alexei leaned against the bookcase, fingers smoothing the lapel of his designer suit.

Dark circles beneath his eyes were the only indication he’d been up all night coordinating their response.

“Blood in the streets brings cops. Cops bring questions. And questions bring the kind of attention we’ve spent decades and millions avoiding. ”

After a brief knock, Reuben entered the study. Nikon caught the faint scent of Natalia’s jasmine tea as Reuben entered—he must have been speaking with her in the sunroom before joining them. His eyes found Nikon’s, reading the tension in the room.

“Sorry I’m late. I was catching up with Natalia. What’s our status on the warehouse attacks?”

Nikon moved toward him. “East and west warehouses hit simultaneously. Nothing serious, but coordinated.”

“Sounds like a distraction.” Reuben closed the door behind him.

“Exactly what we think.” Alexei held up his tablet. “But here’s the interesting part. The Foundation charity gala next Friday. Dmitrii’s reserved three tables in the center of the ballroom. He’s even bringing guests from rival organizations, building alliances.”

Reuben’s eyes narrowed. “My father mentioned that gala. Said Dmitrii’s planning something big there. My mother will be attending too.”

“And you believe your father now?” Grigorii’s voice carried doubt.

Reuben shook his head. “I believe his fear.” Reuben crossed to the desk, his fingers brushing Nikon’s arm in passing.

The brief touch sent warmth through Nikon’s tense muscles.

“He gave me this.” Reuben pulled a black notebook from inside his jacket.

“Every transaction Dmitrii forced him into. Dates, amounts, contacts—everything.”

Stepan entered without knocking, his massive frame filling the doorway. “Security sweep complete. Compound is clean. No surveillance devices found.”

“Good.” Nikon’s shoulders relaxed. “The warehouse attacks?”

“Stopped thirty minutes ago. Minimal damage.” Stepan folded his hands behind his back. “Just as we thought. They weren’t trying to get in, just making noise.”

“As Reuben said, a mere distraction.” Alexei held up his tablet, showing them the blueprint of the Grand Ballroom where the charity gala would be held. “Matthew Capital has a corporate box overlooking the main floor. Perfect vantage point.”

“For what?” Grigorii turned from the window, his large hands clasping behind his back. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Nikon paced the length of the desk, energy coiling through his muscles despite his exhaustion. “We take him out. Clean. Professional. And end this before it goes any further.”

Grigorii’s hand slammed down on the desk, rattling the crystal decanters. “Not at the gala. I won’t have it.”

“Why not?” Tension rippled across Nikon’s features. “One clean shot and this ends.”

“And starts something worse.” Grigorii’s voice filled the room without raising it.

Light glinted off his gold watch as he gestured toward the window.

“The mayor, the police commissioner, half the city council—they take our money because we keep our business invisible. But you take out Dmitrii at a charity event filled with high society witnesses? The mayor has no choice but to crack down publicly. Not just on Dmitrii’s people. On everyone.”

The leather of Nikon’s watch band dug into his skin as his fist clenched. His brother was right, but cold logic couldn’t compete with the vivid memory of Reuben’s bruised face after Dmitrii’s men had attacked him. The image flashed behind his eyes, sharpening his resolve despite Grigorii’s warning.

“The gala gives us another option,” Reuben said, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Information instead of bullets.”

Alexei nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Matthew Capital’s corporate box.”

“Exactly.” Reuben spread his hands. “I coordinate from above. Wallace moves among the guests.”

Nikon pivoted sharply toward Reuben, shoulders tensing. “ Wallace? After everything he’s done, you think he can be trusted?”

“Trust is a strong word.” Reuben’s gaze hardened, the green of his eyes turning flinty. “He’s a self-serving bastard who’d sell anyone out to save himself. But right now, saving himself means helping us. Dmitrii terrifies him.”

“And if he changes his calculation?” Nikon’s throat constricted. The mere thought of Wallace betraying Reuben again made his fingers curl involuntarily into fists.

“Then I’ll have been wrong.” Reuben’s voice was level. “But I don’t think I am. Not about this.”

“He does have connections.” Alexei glanced down at the tablet in his hands. “People who wouldn’t give us the time of day will talk to Wallace Hoyt.”

Nikon paced to the window, jaw working silently.

The sunlight hit his face, warming his skin even as the tension in his chest remained cold and hard.

From here, he could see the distant skyline where several of their businesses operated, the glass facades glittering like diamonds against the blue sky.

“It’s our best play,” Grigorii said, the words clearly difficult for him. “Wallace in the crowd, feeding information to Reuben in the box, giving us a complete picture of Dmitrii’s setup.”

“And if Dmitrii targets Wallace?” Nikon turned back to the room. “Or decides the corporate box is an easier target than we think?”

“That’s why we’ll have security in place,” Alexei said.

“My security.” The words came out more harshly than Nikon intended. He caught Reuben’s eye, saw the flash of irritation there. Nikon forced his voice to level. “Matthew Capital’s box needs to be locked down.”

“Of course.” Reuben’s tone remained neutral, but Nikon recognized the subtle shift in his posture; the slight squaring of shoulders that signaled defensiveness.

Grigorii moved to the bar cart, the floorboards creaking beneath his heavy tread. He poured vodka into four glasses, the clear liquid catching the morning light. “We’re agreed then? No violence at the gala unless absolutely necessary. Information gathering only.”

“Excuse me, Sir.” Stepan spoke up. His expression, normally unreadable, showed a flicker of something that made Nikon turn to face him fully. “I also received word that Andrey will be working at the event.”

The air in the room changed instantly. Nikon caught Grigorii’s sharp intake of breath and recognized the subtle shift in his oldest brother’s stance—the momentary lapse in the iron control that defined him.

Grigorii might speak of Andrey with contempt, but the bond of brotherhood ran deeper than his words admitted.

“Dmitrii’s showing him off?” Nikon’s voice hardened.

“He’s assigned as Dmitrii’s personal attendant,” Stepan added. “At his private tables.”

“Carrying Dmitrii’s drinks like some kind of pet.” Disgust twisted in Nikon’s gut as he thought of his youngest brother reduced to a living ornament.

“It changes nothing,” Grigorii said, his voice granite. But Nikon didn’t miss how his oldest brother’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly beneath the weight of his words.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Nikon saw Reuben’s eyes move between him and Grigorii, assessing the situation.

“Andrey might actually help us here,” Reuben finally said, his voice breaking the tension.

Grigorii turned sharply. “How?”

“He’s been working directly for him.” Reuben moved to stand beside Nikon. “He must see everything from the inside. Security, habits, weak spots.”

Alexei nodded slowly. “If we could somehow get a message to him...”

“He turned his back on this family,” Grigorii growled, his severe expression hardening further as he turned. “Let his ego and greed blind him. You think he wants to help us now?”

“We don’t know what he wants,” Reuben said quietly. “But people change when they hit rock bottom. And from what I’ve seen in those recent surveillance photos, Andrey’s definitely there.”

Nikon thought back to the recent images he’d seen of Andrey. His younger brother’s face had thinned, cheekbones prominent where they hadn’t been before. His eyes held a wariness that hadn’t existed when he lived under the Matvei protection.

“We keep an eye on him,” Nikon said finally. “If there’s an opening, we consider it. But we don’t count on it.”

Grigorii’s mouth tightened, but he nodded once.

“So we’re clear on the approach?” Alexei asked, glancing around the room. “Reuben coordinates from the Matthew Capital box. Wallace works the floor. We gather intelligence, look for vulnerabilities.”

“And after that?” The coldness in Nikon’s voice made his meaning clear.

Grigorii drained his vodka, setting the glass down with a sharp click. “Then we handle Dmitrii—quietly or permanently, depending on what we learn.”

The others filed out to prepare, leaving Nikon alone with Reuben.

Their footsteps faded down the hallway, the study’s grandeur now feeling oddly intimate with just the two of them.

Nikon could see the tiredness around Reuben’s eyes, and the slight stiffness in his movements that spoke of yesterday’s confrontation.

“You need sleep,” Nikon said, reaching out to straighten Reuben’s collar, a gesture that felt almost too domestic for this room of war planning.

“So do you.” Reuben caught his hand, his thumb tracing a pattern on Nikon’s palm. “But that’s not happening anytime soon.”

“Your father... you really think we can trust him?” Nikon couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice.

“Trust is complicated,” Reuben admitted. “But fear isn’t. And right now, Dmitrii scares him more than we do.”

Nikon nodded, accepting the assessment. “I’ll have Stepan secure the corporate box. Multiple escape routes, surveillance on all entry points.”

“I figured you would.” The corner of Reuben’s mouth turned up. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I’ll always tell you what I’m doing to keep you safe,” Nikon said, the words coming out more intensely than he intended. “That’s how we work best... together.”

Reuben’s smile softened, understanding in his eyes. “We do.”

Nikon pulled him close. One hand curved gently around the back of Reuben’s head as they kissed. The taste of vodka and jasmine tea lingered between them in that brief moment of intimacy. When they separated, Nikon’s thumb traced Reuben’s jaw before letting him go.

As Reuben left to coordinate with Alexei, Nikon turned to the one person who remained in the shadows by the door. “Sir.”

The security chief stepped forward, his face impassive as always. “Already on it.”

“Get me the complete blueprints of the Grand Ballroom. I want every service corridor, every back exit.” Nikon’s fingers drummed against the desk. “Nothing left to chance.”

“The gala security will be focusing on the main floor,” Nikon continued, his mind already mapping what little he knew of the building. “So we’ll need our people covering the service corridors and back exits.”

“Once I have the plans, I’ll position teams at all key points,” Stepan said. “If Dmitrii makes a move...”

“No. We wait. We watch.” Nikon’s jaw tightened. “Unless he goes near Reuben.”

Stepan’s nod conveyed complete understanding.

“What about Wallace Hoyt?” Stepan asked.

“Full surveillance. Tell me if he so much as looks at his phone wrong.” Nikon rubbed his chin. “And I want extraction plans ready. If Dmitrii’s people spot him working with us...”

“Got it.”

“I want those blueprints within the hour,” Nikon said. “We’ll mark every entry point, every sight line.” They had to be prepared for every contingency.

“But sir, about the other approach—” Stepan began.

“We do it their way,” Nikon interrupted. “For now.”

His finger circled slowly on the study table, as though he were already marking the Matthew Capital box on imaginary blueprints—where Reuben would be. His nail dug into the polished wood, leaving a small mark.