Page 61 of The Mafia's Septuplets
The admission doesn’t surprise me, but it does make me focus more intently on her mood and body language. “What kind of things?”
“The security changes you’ve been implementing. I’ve noticed more guards, additional cameras, and different patrol patterns just in the last hour.” She pulls back to look at me directly. “It feels like the threat level is increasing rather than decreasing, despite all your efforts to resolve the situation with Mikhail.”
Her perceptiveness shouldn’t surprise me, but it does and complicates my attempts to shield her from the worst aspects of our current circumstances. “The changes are precautionary rather than reactive. I’d rather have too much security than not enough.”
“That’s not really an answer.” Her voice carries gentle but unmistakable challenge. “I’ve been trying to trust your judgment about what I need to know versus what I don’t but living with increased restrictions without understanding why they’re necessary makes me feel helpless and anxious.”
The conversation hovers on the edge of revealing information that could genuinely frighten her, but her request for honesty deserves consideration. She’s proven capable of handling difficult realities when presented with complete informationrather than protective half-truths, and she’s my partner not a prisoner.
“Mikhail’s people have been conducting surveillance of the estate with professional-grade reconnaissance that suggests they’re planning something more direct than property destruction or drawing out the psychological tension.” I watch her face carefully for signs of panic or distress. “The security upgrades are designed to prevent them from gathering the intelligence they need to plan an effective assault.”
Her expression cycles through several emotions before settling on something that might be relief and determination. “Thank you for telling me the truth instead of trying to protect me from it.”
“You have a right to understand the threats we’re facing, especially when they affect your daily life and safety.” I stroke her hair, marveling at how she processes dangerous information with calm rationality rather than emotional breakdown. “The increased security is temporary but necessary until we can eliminate the source of the threat.”
“How do you plan to eliminate Mikhail?”
The direct question deserves an equally direct answer, even though the truth involves violence she might prefer not to contemplate. “We’re trying to locate his operational base. Once I know where that is, we’ll destroy his ability to continue this campaign against us, and I’ll kill him.”
She nods slowly, only moderately flinching at my bald admission of how I’ll handle him. “How long do you think that will take?”
“Weeks or possibly a month. Mikhail is experienced and careful, but he’s also operating in territory where we have advantages interms of resources and local knowledge. I’ve recruited more men from Moscow, and we have our own professional surveillance teams scouring every nook and cranny for the bastard.” I pull her closer, wanting to offer whatever comfort and reassurance I can provide. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you, Willa. Ever. That means eliminating any threat that could take you away from me.”
The fierce possessiveness in my voice seems to satisfy something in her expression. “I don’t want to be lost either or lose you either. I don’t like all the extra security, but I understand the need for it.”
She turns in my arms and kisses me with desperate intensity that suggests she’s been thinking about mortality and separation as much as I have. The passion builds quickly between us, fueled by unspoken fears about the future and the need to reaffirm our connection despite external threats.
“Take me to bed,” she whispers against my mouth. “I need to feel close to you.”
We make our way upstairs with hands and mouths exploring familiar territory made more precious by the knowledge that it could be threatened. In our bedroom, surrounded by security systems and bulletproof glass, we create a bubble of intimacy that exists separate from the violence and danger surrounding us.
Afterward, as she naps in my arms, I lie awake thinking about the conversation with Timur and the escalating surveillance around our home. The timeline for resolving this conflict continues to compress, forcing decisions about aggression versus patience that could determine whether we survive long enough to build the future we’ve planned.
My phone vibrates with another message from Timur, and I slowly extract myself from Willa’s embrace to read it without waking her. The words on the screen send a chill through me:Another bombing. Harbor warehouse. No casualties but significant damage. He’s escalating.
The message confirms what I’ve been dreading. Mikhail has moved beyond psychological warfare into active destruction of our infrastructure, testing our response capabilities while preparing for more ambitious attacks.
I respond that I’ll meet him at the site immediately, then spend several minutes watching Willa sleep peacefully despite the chaos erupting around us. The babies growing inside her represent hope for a future that seems increasingly fragile. I touch her stomach, whispering, “Papa will keep you safe.” Somehow.
Reluctantly, I leave her sleeping, taking time to text her where I’m going while I get dressed before leaving the bedroom. The drive to the harbor passes through empty streets, abandoned by panicked people when they saw the explosion. Emergency vehicles surround what used to be one of our most profitable distribution centers, now reduced to twisted metal and scattered debris.
Timur meets me at the perimeter established by fire department crews. “The fire captain in charge thinks this was arson, as we assumed. She said there were multiple charges placed for maximum structural damage while minimizing casualties, but the fire marshal will give us a more detailed report in a few days. Balakin is sending a message about capabilities rather than trying to kill our people.”
I study the destruction with detached analysis, noting details that reveal Mikhail’s tactical thinking and operational resources. Is it a message, or is it a distraction from what his ultimate plan is? I don’t know anymore, because Mikhail is no longer as simple and straightforward as he used to be eight years ago. “Estimated losses?”
“Two million in inventory, plus the facility itself and operational disruption that will affect revenue for months.” He hands me photographs taken before the fire department arrived. “This brings our total losses to over five million since he arrived in Charleston.”
The financial impact cuts deeply, but the psychological message cuts deeper. Mikhail is demonstrating that he can strike our operations whenever he chooses, despite all our security measures and defensive preparations. “He’s testing our response patterns,” I say, walking closer to the wreckage despite the heat still radiating from smoking debris. “He’s learning how quickly we mobilize resources, and which personnel respond to different types of emergencies.”
“Da, and he’s probably monitoring our communications to understand command structures and decision-making processes.” Timur lights a cigarette, a habit that emerges during moments of extreme stress. “Every response we make gives him more intelligence about our capabilities.”
After coordinating with fire officials and insurance investigators, I drive home. When I reach the estate, additional security personnel have established defensive positions that transform our home into something resembling a fortress. The modifications are necessary but visible reminders that our sanctuary has become a target.
Willa is still sleeping when I return to our bedroom, her face peaceful, and I stand beside our bed for several minutes, watching her breathe and thinking about the seven children growing inside her body who deserve better than what I can currently offer them. Despite it being late afternoon, I slide back into bed beside her, and she instinctively moves closer in her sleep, trusting me to keep her safe even when she’s unconscious and vulnerable. That trust represents everything I’m fighting to protect, and I’ll do anything to preserve it.