“I have information,” he says.
I stop. Barely. The fury in me says to walk away.
To take Elena and never look back.
But I can’t.
Because the way he says it—controlled, calculated, almost satisfied—He knows something.
I turn back slowly.
“What information?” I demand.
Viktor’s lips curl into something that isn’t a smile. “Sit, Mr. Moretti.”
Every instinct in me screams not to trust him.
But for Elena’s safety… and our vengeance?
I sit. For now. And my hand never leaves my wife’s.
Viktor leans back in his chair, studying me like he thinks he’s the most powerful man in the room.
He isn’t. Not anymore.
“There has been chatter among my lower ranks,” he begins, voice smooth, rehearsed. “A man… ambitious, reckless. Someone who believed working closely with Simon would bring him favor in my eyes.”
Simon’s name punches through my chest like a hot spike.
Elena’s hand tightens in mine. I squeeze back—steady, grounding, but murderous.
Viktor continues, utterly unfazed.
“This man did not know of the marriage arrangement,” he says. “When he heard of it—when he realized the alliance was secure without him—he acted out. Foolishly.”
My blood runs cold. Then hot. He attacked my wife because he wasn't able to move up faster?
I’m vibrating with fury, every muscle coiled tight, waiting—begging—for Viktor to say the damn name so I can get Elena out of this fucking mausoleum of a house.
“His mistake will cost him his life,” Viktor says casually. “Of course.”
“Two days ago,” Viktor adds lightly. “I confirmed he acted alone.”
Rocco stiffens beside us. The words hit like a blow.
And Rocco snaps. “You verified the name—two days ago?” he roars, stepping forward before I can stop him. “Two days after they attacked your daughter?”
The entire room goes still. Viktor’s eyes turn to ice. Deadly. Lethal.
Elena’s hand trembles in mine—just barely—but I feel every shiver.
“Rocco,” I say, voice low, sharp. “Enough.”
He grinds his jaw and takes a single step back, but the rage is still radiating off him in waves.
Viktor exhales as if we are an inconvenience.
“The name,” I bite out. “Now.”
