The morning after the wedding, we held a war council.
Rosa and Alessandro arrived at eight, still looking like newlyweds despite the circumstances. Elena came with detailed files on her Bratva contacts. Marcus had security reports. Dante coordinated everyone.
I sat at the head of the conference table, five months pregnant and feeling every day of my forty-three years, but present and focused.
"These are our assets," Elena said, spreading documents across the table.
"Three major Bratva reformers in Moscow. Two in St. Petersburg. One in Kiev. All of them want the old guard gone. All of them need support weapons, money, intelligence."
"What's their timeline?" Rosa asked, studying the files with intense concentration.
"They're ready to move within a month. But they need guarantees. They won't risk everything without knowing we're committed."
"What kind of guarantees?" Alessandro asked.
