Chapter 5 #2
That was the day the last of my mercy died. That was the day I stopped being a boy seeking answers and became the executioner.
For twenty years, I’ve tracked the Blackwoods. I watched from the shadows as Arthur drank away the profits.
I know where Helena went to school. Her favorite flowers. The name of her first boyfriend.
I stalked them like a wolf waiting for the winter to set in.
I waited until Arthur was weak and I was strong enough to not simply kill them, but to own them.
You made me this, Arthur, I think.
I toss the towel onto the floor.
I’m the monster you created. And now, I’ve come home.
"Boss."
I turn.
Lev is waiting. The chair is empty. Alexei is gone.
"The girl is locked in," Lev says. "She has spirit. But spirit breaks."
"Let her be," I say, adjusting my cuffs. "Fear is a better jailer than any lock. Let her sit in the dark and think about what I’m capable of."
I walk out of the interrogation room and step into my private office. The walls are lined, the shelves filled with first editions I never read.
At the desk, I pour a glass of vodka.
Lev follows me in. He closes the door.
"Tonight... it was risky, Konstantin," he says quietly. "The game. If the old man had folded... if he hadn't taken the bait..."
I sit down in the high-backed leather chair and open the humidor. The smell of rich tobacco fills the air. I select a cigar and roll it between my fingers.
"Arthur Blackwood is an addict, Lev. Addicts don't fold. They double down."
I cut the cigar with a silver guillotine.
"I didn't leave it to chance," I explain, lighting the tobacco. "I owned the debt he was trying to pay. And, most importantly..." I exhale a cloud of blue smoke. "I owned the dealer."
Lev raises an eyebrow.
"The deck was cold," I say, a cruel smile touching my lips. "I knew exactly what cards were coming. I knew he would catch the Full House on the river. I gave it to him and put the hope in his hands so I could crush it."
I didn't gamble for the Blackwood Company. I took it. The poker game was a theater to get his signature on the deed.
"We have the ships," Lev says. "The Elders will be pleased. The route is open."
I scoff. "The Elders are never pleased. They are hungry wolves. They still look at me and see Viktor’s broken son. They see an Enforcer. A dog that they can point at their enemies."
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. This is the part Lev doesn't understand yet. This isn't about revenge. It’s about the Throne.
"To become Pakhan... to take the seat my father lost, I cannot just be a killer.
I must be a King. I need an empire." I pull a file from the stack on my desk.
"The Bratva is choking, Lev. We have weapons sitting in warehouses in St. Petersburg that we cannot move.
We have technology in Venezuela that is gathering dust. Every time we try to move a shipment on a Russian-flagged vessel, NATO stops us.
The customs agents tear the ships apart. "
I open the file. Inside are schematics. Blueprints of the Blackwood’s ship.
"Blackwood Shipping is a British-registered company," I say, tapping the paper. "Sterling reputation. A clean history. Customs agents wave their ships through with a smile and a salute."
"And now we own them," Lev says, realization dawning on his face. "We use her ships as a shield."
"Exactly," I say. "We load the legitimate cargo—grain, steel, machinery—on the top decks. And underneath? In the false hulls? We move the Shadow Cargo. The weapons. The cash."
"And if they get caught?"
"If they get caught," I say coldly, "the manifest is signed by the manager, Helena. The paper trail leads to the Blackwood family. Helena goes to prison. Arthur takes the fall. And I remain untouchable."
"It’s a brilliant plan," Lev agrees. "With the deed, we own the company."
"A deed is a piece of paper," I say, shaking my head. "It’s flimsy. A judge could overturn it. Arthur could wake up tomorrow, find a spine, and claim he was coerced. A court might freeze the assets for years. I cannot risk that."
I reach into the bottom drawer of my desk. I bypass the gun and stacks of cash. I pull out a thin, manila envelope that has been waiting for two weeks.
My lawyer, Dmitri, drafted it at my request long before Arthur Blackwood ever walked into my casino. I always knew it would end this way. I always knew what I had to do.
"I need something permanent," I say, placing the envelope on the desk. "A bond that international maritime law cannot break. I need to be more than an owner."
"You don't mean..." Lev’s eyes widen.
I slide the paper out.
A marriage license.
The groom's name is already filled in: Konstantin Viktorovich Morozov.
The bride's name is blank.
I pick up a pen.
"Helena thinks she’s here to work off a debt," I explain.
The black ink flows onto the page as I write her name with sharp, heavy strokes. Helena Blackwood.
"She thinks she’s an employee. A collateral. She believes that if she works hard enough, if she pays off the millions her father owes, she’ll earn her freedom."
I look up at Lev.
"She’s wrong. She’s the key to my Crown."
"She’ll never agree," Lev warns, looking at the document uneasily. "She fights too hard. If you force this on her now, she might choose death over the altar."
I look at her name on the paper.
He’s right.
She stood up to me in the car. She stood up to me in the hallway.
She has fire in her veins.
I don't hand the paper to Lev. Instead, I slide it back into the manila envelope.
I seal it and place it back in the dark recesses of my desk drawer, burying it beneath the other files.
"I won't tell her," I say. "Not yet."
"You’ll wait?"
"I’ll break her first," I promise. "I’ll let her think she has a choice. I’ll let her run her little shipping routes. She’ll exhaust herself trying to save a company that already belongs to me."
I lean back in my chair. The frame creaks.
"I’ll strip away her hope, layer by layer. Then, I’ll isolate her until she realizes that her father is gone, her allies are gone, and I’m the only gravity left in her world. And when she’s tired... when she’s on her knees and realizes there’s no exit..."
I look at the drawer where the license waits like a loaded gun.
"Then I’ll put the pen in her hand. And I’ll force her to sign."
I take a final drag of my cigar, watching the smoke rise to the ceiling.
"I own her past. I own her future. And when I’m finished breaking her, I’ll own her name."