My eyes shoot to Inessa who is rushing toward them with concern etched on her face.
This has to stop.
I have to stop it.
Dimitri understands.
"How many men do you need?"
His voice steadies, though I know him well enough to hear the undercurrent of doubt in his tone.
He's humoring me, but I'm trying to prove to him that I am the leader of this family for a reason.
"I have enough," I say.
"Keep your operations secure while I handle Primorsky."
My eyes find Inessa's across the wreckage, her pale face lit by emergency strobes. I lower my voice.
"This one’s personal."
When the call ends, I pocket the phone and return to her.
She stands before the ruins of her showroom, her shoulders rigid with suppressed emotion.
She doesn’t cry this time, but I know she is full of emotion.
I've studied her long enough to know she's not going to forget this moment for the rest of her life.
"This was Kozlov too?" she asks with a raw scrape in her voice.
"Yes," I confirm, and I stay close enough for her to feel the steadiness in me, even as rage coils tighter inside my chest.
She faces me then, and I see her grief transforming into something colder.
"What happens to him?"
"He dies."
"When?"
There is no sadness left in her tone, no compassion or mercy in her expression anywhere.
And for a split second, I wonder what I've done, what hell I've created for this woman to live in that she would throw off her gentleness to absorb my brutality and violence so quickly.
"Tonight," I say, and she grits her teeth.
"Bring me his head."
Inessa's eyes are as dark as the sky as she turns and walks back to the ambulance to be with her friend, and I can't move.
I'm not sure what just transpired, but I don't think I like it.
We return home, and Inessa remains silent during the drive, but I catch her reflection in the window—her jaw set, her eyes still filled with the same cold fury I saw earlier.
She's stronger than I expected she could ever be.
Stronger than Dominic ever was.
