I swayed my head from side to side. “I’d consider it moderate. The crew and drivers are loyal and we’ve vetted the hand-offs twice. If there are any slip-ups, we’ll adapt.”
Silence stretched. Then he spoke, his voice cold and clipped. “Good. You’ve earned this trust. This territory must remain ours. You need to make it permanent. And Sasha … Do not underestimate them. They will lie and they will test every boundary.”
“I know.”
Another pause, then a curt nod. “Execute. Report only deviations. This is your chance to solidify control. Do not fail.”
The line went dead. I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair as the echoes of forklift motors and dock boots faded around me.
The call came in while Kyrill was still discussing dock access as if it were a chess problem rather than the kind of territorial fault line historically resulting in bodies floating face down in the water.
My best friend paced slowly across the office as he talked, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. One hand sketched invisible maps in the air as he talked through shipping routes and leverage points with the focused patience of a man who genuinely enjoyed strategy.
To him, the entire situation was an intellectual puzzle involving supply lines, choke points and pressure tactics, rather than the simmering conflict it actually was.
The marina dispute had been circling us for days, with both sides posturing and probing. Each side was pretending to be patient while secretly calculating how much blood they were willing to spill over a stretch of docks and water neither side could afford to appear weak about.
I was only half-listening while scanning messages on my phone when Misha called. Under normal circumstances, I would have ignored it until Kyrill had finishedspeaking. The security team rarely interrupted unless something required immediate attention.
Something about the timing made my instincts prick up and made me swipe across the screen to answer.
“Yes?”
There was shouting on the other end of the line. It was a far cry from the controlled communication I was used to when dealing with my men. My back went ramrod straight, an ugly mixture of dread and anxiety swirling in the pit of my stomach.
“Boss—” His voice was strained and he was breathing hard. “The villa … The villa has been hit.”
For a split second, the words didn’t register. It simply couldn’t be true.
Kyrill was still talking about dock storage capacity behind me, explaining how rerouting shipments through the western pier would reduce exposure if negotiations collapsed.
Then my mind finally caught up and my body unfroze.
“What?!”
“They came at us fast,” Misha said. “Vehicles. Six … fuck, maybe even more. It was chaos.”
My hand tightened slowly around the phone, and I sucked in a sharp breath before asking the most important question — theonlyquestion that mattered.
“Where is she?”
There was a pause and I closed my eyes as the severity of the situation settled in my gut like a block of ice.
“Gone,” Misha choked out.
Gone.
The word sliced through my chest like a blade.
“Secure the perimeter,” I barked through gritted teeth. “And then alert everyone. NOW!”
“Already on it.”
Then the line went dead.
I sat completely still for a moment. Across the room, Kyrill had stopped talking.
He was watching me now, with the sharp awareness of someone who knew me well enough to recognise the precise moment when the atmosphere in the room changed.