Chapter Twelve - Leon
I lean back in my office chair, feet braced against the polished wood, phone pressed to my ear. The skyline glitters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a thousand city lights like prizes yet to be claimed.
Marcus’s voice is clipped, businesslike—no warmth, just the weight of generations negotiating through clenched teeth and bloodstained ledgers. There’s a satisfaction in that, a sense of history shifting under my hand.
Every word between us is precise, cool, measured. A truce, a merger, a surrender, and a coronation, all at once.
He says, “We accept the proposal.”
Just four words, but they land with the force of a gunshot. The years of rivalry, of territory claimed and retaken, of whispered threats and backroom wars… all of it is swept aside, replaced by the certainty of a contract.
This alliance is more than business; it’s a stake in the ground, a flag planted in new soil. For a moment—a rare, golden moment—I allow myself to enjoy it. The war is over. I have won. Or at least, I believe I have.
Marcus drones on about timelines and contingencies, but my mind is already racing ahead. I see the maps, the routes, the deals stacking up in neat columns. Peace, profit, power. It’s all mine, now—ours. I savor the taste of victory, let it settle in my bones.
The door swings open. Not a knock, not a warning—just the hard, clean sound of force, and there she is.
Suzy fills the doorway, the storm in her eyes threatening to level the city. Her hair’s wild, lips pressed together, jaw set in a challenge that’s as old as we are. Her hands are balled to fists at her sides. Even angry, she’s incandescent.
I arch an eyebrow, smirking, letting Marcus’s voice drone on in my ear. My gaze doesn’t leave her.
“No issues?” I ask Marcus, but the words are for her. I want her to know I expected this. I want her to know I relish it.
Marcus hesitates, as if weighing whether to remind me whose daughter I’m about to take. “None,” he says and hangs up.
I lower the phone to the desk just as Suzy storms forward, palms slamming down on the glass hard enough to scatter papers and rattle my nerves. The force of her fury fills the room, charging the air with static.
“Why did you do this?” she spits. Her voice is tight with rage and something rawer, something closer to heartbreak.
For a second, my heart kicks in my chest. I want to reach for her, to tame that fire, but I force myself to stay still.
I rise, smoothing my suit, letting cold logic settle over me like armor.
“It’s good for both families. Peace. Profit. Security.” I meet her eyes, steady and unflinching. “This is how things work. This is the only way.”
But Suzy’s not here to be mollified. Her glare sharpens, the line of her jaw daring me to keep lying. “You’re a liar,” she hisses. “This isn’t just business for you. There’s something else. You don’t care about peace—you care about control. You want to own me, the way you own everything else.”
The accusation lands harder than I expect. She’s always been good at finding the fault line. Suddenly I’m aware of her in every sense—her scent, the heat coming off her skin, the wild pulse in her throat. She’s chaos, and I’m addicted. She makes me want things I’ve never admitted, even to myself.
I step around the desk, moving into her orbit, not stopping until the distance between us disappears.
Suzy holds her ground at first, chin lifted in defiance, but when I keep coming, she backs up. She bumps into the wall, trapped by the nearness of me and her own stubborn pride. I can feel the energy crackling between us—rage and longing, all tangled up and impossible to separate.
I lower my voice, softer, meant only for her. “Maybe I just want you,” I admit. It’s a confession that costs me nothing and everything. Her eyes go wide, a flush rising to her cheeks.
For a moment, the fight drains from her, and I catch a glimpse of something unguarded—surprise, maybe, or fear. Vulnerability, bright and unexpected.
She looks away, finding her voice only when the moment’s nearly slipped away. “You’ll regret it, Leon,” she mutters, her bravado too quick, voice just the slightest bit breathless. “I’ll make your life hell if you marry me. I promise you that.”
The threat is music, and I can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes me. “I expect nothing less,” I say, letting her see the truth in my eyes—that her fire doesn’t scare me; it draws me in.
She slips past me, almost stumbling in her haste to leave, and the door swings shut behind her, the echo of her fury lingering in the air. I stand there for a moment, listening to my own ragged breathing, feeling the ache of her absence as a physical thing.
She’s the most dangerous gamble I’ve ever made. The only one worth the risk.
I turn back to my desk, staring down at the contract Marcus emailed before our call.
The language is cold, binding, ruthless.
But it isn’t what matters. What matters is the woman who just stormed out, the woman I’m not sure I can live without—the woman who can set my world on fire with a single look.
The victory feels different now—less like triumph, more like surrender. I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me, or if forgiveness is just another currency in this war we’re about to wage. I already miss the way she fights me, the way she refuses to be small.
She thinks she can make my life hell. She’s probably right. And for the first time, I find myself hoping she does. Because I know this: I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her—her anger, her defiance, her impossible, irresistible will.
The city outside glitters, restless and wild. For the first time in years, I feel alive. I feel ready. I know, deep in my bones, the war is only just beginning.
Boris enters before the echo of the slammed door fades, his suit dusted with city grit, a heavy folder clamped in one fist.
The air changes the moment he crosses the threshold—triumph gone, the aftershock of Suzy’s anger swept aside by the scent of bad news. My pulse slows, shifting from want to war in a single breath.
“What is it?” I ask, voice already sharpened for trouble.
Boris doesn’t waste time. He spreads photos across my desk: security stills, blown-up faces, grainy shots of men climbing fences. Texts and bank records follow—wires routed through shell companies, cash withdrawn in just the right amounts. He talks as he works, voice clipped.
“The masked man at the estate wasn’t a freelancer. He was hired—by someone who knew our routines, knew our codes. Knew how to hit where it hurt.”
I barely glance at the evidence. My gut knows before the names are spoken. But Boris lays it out, piece by piece, until every photo, every line of text, points to the same ghost. One word is enough to sour the air, old wounds reopening: Vadim.
The name lands like a punch to the ribs.
I see it all—years of memory in a flash.
Vadim, my oldest friend. The man who stood beside me at my father’s grave, the man I trusted to hold a knife to my back because I thought he’d never twist it.
We built this world together, carved out territory, spilled blood for the same throne.
Ambition is a poison, slow at first, then deadly. He wanted too much. I gave too little, and the night it broke, it broke forever.
“Vadim.” The word is a curse in my mouth. My hands curl into fists, knuckles bone-white. “He dares send men to my house?” Rage boils in my veins, a dark, satisfying burn. “Pathetic. He knows nothing has changed. If he wants war, he’ll get one.”
Boris shakes his head, face grimmer than usual. “He’s desperate, Leon. You know what he’s like when cornered. He’ll strike at anything you value—anyone. Suzy, your brother, even your men. Don’t let your guard down.”
For a moment, his voice is almost gentle. I know he remembers the days when Vadim was one of us, before the rot set in. The caution in Boris’s tone is earned because he’s seen how old loyalty can turn to ruin.
I’m already past regret. I think of the estate, blood on the marble. I see Suzy—her arms up, eyes wide but unbroken, glass in her hands as she fought beside me. Vadim reached into my world and tried to rip it apart. He came after what’s mine—after her. That, I cannot forgive.
“We double security. No one moves without three men on them. Check every supplier, every driver, every route.” My words snap like gunfire. “I want Vadim’s location. Find his allies. Find his assets. I don’t care what it costs. I want his head.”
Boris nods, already pocketing the photos, his own anger carefully masked. “We’ll move tonight. He’s made mistakes before. We’ll catch him this time.”
His warnings linger in the silence after he leaves. Vadim is desperate, reckless, a wounded animal. That makes him dangerous in ways I can’t predict.
For a long moment, I let the rage cool, let it settle into a cold, calculating need for victory. I look out at the city—the sprawl of neon, the arteries of traffic, every light a piece of the game. This is what I was built for: strategy, revenge, the relentless machinery of power.
Yet, beneath all that, something sharp twists in my chest.
It’s Suzy’s face that keeps returning—her fury, her fear, the promise in her eyes that she would make my life hell. She thinks this marriage is just business, another move on the board.
Perhaps she doesn’t see what Vadim sees: that with her beside me, I have something worth taking, something worth destroying. She’s not just a pawn or a piece of the bargain. She’s become the axis of the war, the reason every enemy will come at me twice as hard.
The realization is like a knife under the ribs.
The idea of losing doesn’t just mean territory or reputation.
It means losing her—her fire, her challenge, the way she refuses to be controlled.
It means letting Vadim get the last laugh, watching everything I’ve fought for burned to ash by the only man—other than Nikola—I ever called brother.
I grit my teeth, pushing away the fear. No. I’ve survived too much. Built too much. I won’t let her become another casualty of someone else’s ambition.
The next moves unspool in my mind—security details, false rumors, traps set for Vadim on every corner. The game feels different now. More personal, more raw. For once, it’s not just about the empire. It’s about the woman who has become its heart—whether she knows it or not.
When Boris returns with updates, I’m ready.
I issue orders with the ruthlessness that built my name.
But when I finally stand alone, city lights flickering below, I let myself feel the edge of panic beneath the anger.
I can’t protect her the way I want to. She’d never let me, anyway.
She’d fight every inch. Maybe that’s what I love most—her refusal to play anyone’s game but her own.
Still, the thought of Vadim lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike, makes my vision tunnel, my breath tighten. I want her safe. I want her close. I want to end this war before it spills into something neither of us can control.
I pace the office long after the calls are made, the contracts reviewed. Every plan, every threat, every flicker of violence in the city comes down to this: I will win. I will keep her. I will burn down the world if I have to.
If Vadim thinks he can steal a piece of my future—my wife, my life—he’s about to learn how little mercy I have left.