"I didn't expect the Bratva's tech queen to be quite so... captivating," Lorenzo's voice dripped with irony as he observed Galina, who was absorbed in deciphering a web of encrypted data.
Galina's gaze remained fixed on her screens, her expression a...
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As the last murmurs of conversation died away, Pakhan's authoritative voice sliced through the room. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken tension as he announced an emergency meeting for the core members. The usual order of the room had shifted; we were no longer aligned in neat rows but now seated in a circle of chairs, faces illuminated by the dim, amber light of the overhead lamp. The change in arrangement was deliberate-an effort to foster more intimate and effective communication.
Pakhan's piercing gaze swept across the room. "So, you all are already aware of what happened," he began, his tone sharp and commanding. In unison, we responded, "Yes, Pakhan."
He nodded approvingly, his expression a mix of determination and resolve. "As you all know, we need to find a suitable lady for that Marchetti boy. However, before we address that, we must first arrange a contractual lady."
Mikhail, ever the voice of reason, interjected smoothly. "Yes, Pakhan, we are aware of that. We are working tirelessly to find a fitting match for him. Viktor is assisting in the search as well." He gestured towards Viktor, who sat with a face like a storm cloud.
Viktor's lips curled into a wry smile. "I'm only helping because Damian offered to sponsor us at our favorite dining spot for the next six months," he quipped. Mikhail, Damian, and I exchanged amused glances, while Pakhan's expression hardened, a shadow of disbelief crossing his features.
Viktor Mikhailov-a man whose reputation preceded him. At 35, he was known as the "Killing Machine" of the Bratva, a title that scarcely did justice to his dual nature. Fierce in battle yet oddly endearing in everyday interactions, he was a paradox: terrifying yet oddly lovable. The nickname, "unique chipmunk," felt both absurd and fitting.
Pakhan cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to the matter at hand. "Returning to the matter at hand, I want you to be the contractual bride, kid." His gaze locked onto mine, and the room fell into a tense silence. The gravity of his words was palpable.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Pakhan's voice cut through the air like a blade. "I understand we've discussed this before. I respect your decision, but this isn't merely about an alliance anymore. Do you recall when we were in my office, and I made a call in front of you?"
"Yes," I responded, my voice steady but edged with curiosity.
"Good. I contacted one of my informants, who had placed spies in Crudale-specifically, within the territories of Famiglia. I've discovered we're encountering significant difficulties with our shipments and intelligence operations. I need you to handle this on a purely business basis. Your task is to go there, investigate the issues, understand the reasons behind them, evaluate and analyze the situation, and report back with every single detail. And when I say report, I mean every detail, kid."
Pakhan's tone was firm, yet there was a hint of concern beneath the surface. "As for the marriage to the Marchetti boy, I'm confident you'll manage him. Just establish what's expected and what's not; there's no need for intricate details. From what I've seen of his reaction today, I doubt he'll be eager to engage deeply with you anyway." His voice softened slightly, an edge of understanding present in his words.
