Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
VIKTOR
“Where are we?” Jonah asks as the car slows.
As I unbuckle his seatbelt for him, I meet his eyes. “Vesper. My bar.”
“You have a bar? I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”
I grin. “It’s not just the bar.”
He looks at me, curious now.
“That whole block belongs to me,” I add easily. “Vesper’s just the part people are allowed to see.”
“Is there anything you don’t have?” he asks.
“It depends who you ask.” Nudging the back of Nikolai's seat with my boot, I wait for the reaction. “If you ask Nikolai, he’ll tell you he doesn't have a moment of peace. He'll complain about the constant ache in his right arm like it’s a personal betrayal.”
“Shut up, motherfucker,” Nikolai grumbles from the passenger seat.
Jonah laughs. The warm flush on his face makes his freckles stand out, golden spots scattered over his nose and cheeks.
They are gorgeous. I catch myself counting them.
Most men in my position look for flaws, but I’m looking for every inch of sensitive skin I haven't marked yet. They’re just more territory for me to claim.
“But if you ask me,” I continue, “I’d say I have pretty much everything I could wish for.
Except for one final thing. My family’s throne.
I intend to take it back very soon.” My hand settles on Jonah’s shoulder while Sasha turns into the private lot behind the building.
“We’re going to stay for one drink only. ”
“Sure.”
Outside, Lev scans the alley as the biting cold rushes in. The bass from the club thumps through the brick. “Remind me why we are here?”
“To seal a deal.” Straightening my coat, I look at the entrance. “To make some money.” I wink at Jonah.
“That one-drink policy sounds like a good idea.” Nikolai shakes his head, leading the way for the back entrance. “I still hate being here since the shooting.”
“For once I agree with you, brother.”
Keeping my hand on Jonah’s back, I guide him across the cracked floor toward the bar.
Lev walks the outside line, close enough that his arm brushes mine.
White and red light cut through the dark, strobing across the room.
The sound takes over first. Bass pounds through the packed floor, the vibration crawling up my legs and settling in my ribs.
Voices blur. Laughter and shouts are swallowed by the music, making it loud enough to hide footsteps. Bodies press close under the strobe.
Vesper sits in the heart of our zone. Yet Sokolov still made it onto my block. The motherfucker even managed to shoot me. My ribs tighten at the memory—a dull echo under the music that doesn't fit.
Vadim stands behind the bar. When he sees me, his mouth falls open, nearly dropping the glass he’s polishing. “Viktor Morozov. You… Didn’t you—”
“Die?” Nikolai deadpans.
Vadim’s eyes flick from him back to me. Snapping out of it, he reaches for a bottle. “Let me get you some shots. On the house.”
Lev grins. “Sounds like a good plan.”
After we down two rounds, I turn my back to the bar and scan the crowd. “Do you see anything that doesn’t fit?”
Nikolai’s gaze sweeps the room, sharp. “No. Sasha just confirmed the outside cameras are functioning. Nothing is out of order.”
“Then how the fuck did Sokolov get past our perimeter and make it right outside this place?” Lev’s voice hardens. “This whole neighborhood is ours. He shouldn’t have made it within a block.”
“I agree. Someone cleared a path for him.”
Nikolai frowns. “For Sokolov? Why risk that level of betrayal for a disposable trigger?”
“Someone who wasn’t working for him.” I lower my voice and let the words settle between us.
Jonah’s grip tightens, ice clinking once against the side of the glass.
He doesn’t speak, but his shoulders draw in a fraction as if he understands exactly what that means.
Only a handful of people know every guard shift and every blind angle near this place.
Only a handful know when I slip out the back door.
Fewer still could erase their own footprints without raising suspicion.
Lev watches my face. “You think it was someone inside.”
I don’t answer right away.
Nikolai exhales slowly. “Motherfucker. Look.”
Turning toward the crowd, I find that before I can even begin my scan, the bodies begin to part.
“You were always so easy to find, Viktor,” a voice cuts through the thumping bass. “When the house feels too small, you always come back to the cracked floors and the cheap vodka.”
Something in my head snaps into focus. That unnatural calm that never belongs in chaos. My breath stutters. I know that shape. I know who moves like that. Lev’s hand tightens on my arm. “No. It can’t be.”
Doctor Andrei Petrov steps into the light like he owns the floor. His coat is buttoned to the chin. His posture is straight. His gaze sweeps the room with the detached calm of a man who has already decided half the people in it are not worth saving.
“Of fucking course.” Nikolai exhales through his teeth.
Petrov’s eyes find us at the bar. He smiles politely, as if this is a yearly checkup and not the scene of my almost-death. Adjusting his glasses, he steps around two drunk men without breaking stride. He stops exactly one arm’s length from me.
“Evening, boys. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
The bass thunders behind him. My pulse answers it. Jonah goes still at my side. Lev’s hand drops to the hem of his jacket. I meet Petrov’s eyes. “You are the last person allowed here.”
He smiles, looking amused. “Your uncle sent me. But you already knew that.”
“Oh. Did he now?”
“You don't think you can walk out of your prison, kill Sergei’s loyal dog and then pretend life continues untouched.” Petrov’s smile widens. “My reputation opens doors. Your uncle wants to see how you intend to close them.”
“I’m reclaiming what’s mine.” My voice is a low growl. “I am removing those who stole from me.”
Petrov laughs. “You always were the funny one. No offense.” His gaze slides past me to Jonah, looking him up and down with clinical detachment. “And you kept your pretty nurse. If you need someone to warm your bed tonight, Vitya, there’ll be volunteers. You don't have to settle for the help.”
Something in my chest snaps. “You motherfucker.” I shove him hard, the impact sending him back a step.
“Viktor.” Nikolai yanks me back by the shoulder. “Don’t. He isn't worth it.”
Ignoring my friend, I feel my jaw tighten. I shove Petrov again before anyone can move to stop me. I want to feel his ribs crack under my hands. But then Jonah’s fingers close around mine. They are small.
“Don’t, malysh,” he whispers.
The word hits like a physical heat under my skin. I still, my breath misfires. I don't remember anyone ever stopping me like that. I don't turn toward him. Not with Petrov watching. I won't give him that satisfaction. But Petrov’s smile sharpens knowingly as he studies Jonah once more.
“Oh, Viktor,” he says. “Your uncle is eager to see whether you learned anything from the last time you misjudged your own perimeter.”
He straightens his coat and looks at his watch as if we are already late for an appointment. “He’s waiting at the docks. Warehouse seven. Right now. I will leave you to it. The clock is already counting.”
Then he turns and walks out. The door shuts, and the bass from the club swallows the silence he left behind. Nikolai exhales slowly. “So this was the game. Petrov clears the path. Sokolov fires. Of fucking course.”
“Sasha.” The guard steps closer immediately. “I want a list of everyone who had access to the perimeter tonight. Cameras. Doors. Shift changes.”
Her jaw tightens. “Da.”
“Find the one who let him in,” I continue. “Quietly.”
A beat passes while I feel the heat of the room and the weight of Jonah's gaze. “And when you do,” I add, already turning toward the exit, “kill them.”
Jonah’s hand tightens around my wrist. “Viktor.” His voice is strained. “What happens now?”
Looking at him, I see the fear in his eyes.
I see the man who just called me malysh and settled my rage with a touch.
Knowing Petrov was the one who opened the door makes the air in my lungs turn to lead.
“We go to the harbor.” I glance at Lev, who’s already reaching for his phone to coordinate the cars.
“You wanted war. So let’s fucking finish it. ”