"What kind of offer?" My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"Better territory. Direct access to the Barinov network. Protection from Roman's consolidation after the wedding." He pauses. "He said you were going under anyway. That I could either go down with you or come out ahead. I've got a family to think about."
"I understand. Good luck."
I disconnect before he can offer more apologies I don't want to hear.
Maksim isn't just stealing my people. He'salreadystolen them. The organization I built is gone. Absorbed into his control in less than a week.
And I walked right into it.
When I agreed to marry Roman, I was certain I'd come out on top.
But I didn't account for Maksim returning from the dead.
The wedding is in two weeks. Two weeks until I become Roman's wife.
And then what?
Even if I manage to kill Roman—and that's a big if with Maksim watching my every move—what happens next? Does Maksim take over as the rightful Barinov heir? Does he decide to kill me? He’s already taking over everything. He hates me. Why would he keep me around?
If Roman dies and Maksim takes over, I'll be under the control of a man who hates me. Who wants to destroy me. Who's already proven he can strip away my power in days.
Either way, I lose everything.
I'm a dead woman walking.
The realization makes my legs weak. I sink down onto a crate. I can't breathe.
Everything I built. Every sacrifice I made. Every cold decision, every ruthless move, every piece of myself I carved away to become the Ice Queen—all of it was for nothing.
Because in the end, I'm still just a pawn. Still just someone's property to use and discard.
No. No, I refuse to accept that.
I force myself to stand. To think strategically instead of emotionally.
There’s one man that I’m certain Maksim wouldn’t have been able to reach.
I’m not going to call. This is a meeting that needs to happen in person.
I drive across Moscow with my mind racing. Planning arguments. Preparing for the conversation that might be my last chance to save something from the wreckage.
Jakob’s office is in a nondescript building in the industrial district. I've been here dozens of times over the years. He’s a German businessman that has an excellent cover. He owns a chain of stores, and no one suspects he’s anything but a businessman. Not even my people know about him.
I take the stairs to the third floor, my heels clicking on concrete. I smile at the woman sitting at the reception desk in his office.
“I’m here to see Jakob,” I say.
She looks…scared.
That’s not all that unusual.
I don’t bother to wait for permission. I walk down the short hallway and knock on the door.
"Come in."
The voice isn't Jakob’s.
