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Page 38 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

I outline what we know, watching their reactions. Anger, determination, and a hint of fear flicker across their faces.

“We need a plan,” I say. “One that will cripple Valdés without starting an all-out war.”

Sergei looks sharp. “I have an idea. We use our banking connections to freeze his offshore accounts. Cut off his cash flow.”

I nod, considering. “Good. Make it happen. What else?”

Rodion speaks next. “A cyberattack. Yuri’s in Scotland, but I know some things about cybercrime. I can create a virus toslowly corrupt their data. It’ll make their intelligence unreliable and cause internal chaos.”

“Excellent,” I say. “Get started immediately.”

Vlad clears his throat. “There’s another angle we could exploit. The rivalry between Valdés and the Torellos. If we anonymously tip them off about Valdés encroaching on their territory...”

I flash a predatory grin. “It could ignite a conflict, dividing Valdés’ attention and resources. I like it.”

The room falls silent while I pace, thinking. Then an idea strikes me. “We know Valdés is expecting a major drug shipment soon,” I say. “Instead of destroying it, we replace it with a harmless substitute. Let him distribute it unknowingly.”

Sergei’s slowly grins. “It would damage his reputation with customers and suppliers alike.”

I nod. “Exactly, and finally, we plant a mole in his organization. Not for intelligence, but to sow distrust among his lieutenants.”

The room buzzes with energy while we flesh out the details of each part of the plan. Hours pass strategizing arguing and refining our approach.

Finally, as dawn breaks, I stand. “You all have your assignments. Let’s move.”

As the others file out, Sergei lingers. “Boss, what about Phoebe? Should we bring her back?”

I pause, considering. The thought of Phoebe here, in danger, makes my blood run cold, but the idea of her alone in Scotland, angry and confused, isn’t much better.

“No,” I say finally. “She’s safer where she is for now. Double her security detail but keep it discreet.”

Sergei nods and leaves. I turn to the window, watching the sun rise over Miami. The city sparkles, beautiful and oblivious to the war brewing in its shadows.

My phone buzzes with a text from Phoebe.

“When are you coming? We need to talk.”

I close my eyelids, allowing myself a moment of weakness. I miss her. The warmth of her smile, the softness of her skin, the way she looks at me like I’m just a man, not a crime lord. How will she look at me when she knows? The thought makes my stomach clench.

I can’t think about that now. I have a war to win. I type a quick reply.

“Soon. I promise. Stay safe.”

Tucking away the phone, I fortify myself for the fight ahead. Valdés won’t know what hit him, and when the dust settles, I’ll go to Phoebe and finally tell her the truth. About everything.

Nearly a week later,I pace the length of my penthouse. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Phoebe, alone in Scotland, and the growing threat from Valdés. The past few days have been a whirlwind of violence and retribution. We’ve struck back at The Corporation, but each blow we land seems to invite two in return. The situation is spiraling, and I can no longer ignore the nagging fear in the pit of my stomach.

I pick up my phone, staring at Phoebe’s contact photo. Her smile, so warm and genuine, makes my chest ache. I’ve kept her at arm’s length, thinking distance would keep her safe. Now, I’m not so sure. With a deep breath, I press the call button. The phone rings twice before her voice fills my ear.

“Mikhail? Is everything okay?”

Her concern is evident, and guilt gnaws at me. “Phoebe,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I need you to come home.”

“What? We’ve only been here three weeks, and you and I have plans for next week when you?—”

“I know,” I interrupt, hating the disappointment in her voice. “Something’s come up. It’s complicated. I can’t explain over the phone, but I need you here. In Miami. As soon as possible.”

There’s a long pause, and I can almost see her frowning, trying to make sense of my request. “What’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?”