Switch lets out a low whistle. “So he’s a ghost.”
“Professional-grade,” Riot confirms. “Not some amateur burner identity.”
Mason’s gaze hardens. “Who is he really?”
Riot hesitates for half a fraction of a second before swiping again. A new file fills the screen with a younger looking Grant. “Meet Maksim Volkov. They call him “The Wolf.”
Piston shifts in his chair. “He’s Russian?”
“Very,” Riot replies.
Tank’s voice rumbles. “What’s his connection to us?”
Riot taps again and the timeline expands. Riot’s fingers hover over the screen for a beat before he swipes again.
Two photos fill the display side by side. The first one stops the room cold. A younger man stands in the frame, maybe early twenties. Dark hair cropped short. Sharp cheekbones. The same eyes as Whittaker, just less guarded. Less polished. He’s leaning against the hood of a dusty car somewhere that looks sun-bleached and rough, one arm slung casual over the roof, the corner of his mouth tilted in something close to a grin.
“That’s Maksim,” Riot says quietly. “Before the masks. Before the shell identities.”
The second image sharpens beside it. Another young man stands shoulder to shoulder with him, broader build, heavier in the jaw. The resemblance isn’t in the face. It’s in the posture. The way they stand like they own whatever ground they’re on.The familiarity between them is unmistakable. “And that’s Alexei,” Riot adds. “Sergei Volkov’s enforcer. The one who took Bri.”
Blade’s jaw tightens.
“They’re cousins,” Riot continues. “Grew up together. Ran together. Same training pipelines. Same handlers. Same early operations.”
Piston leans forward slightly. “They look like brothers.”
“Close enough,” Riot says. “Best friends. Tight enough that most of their people treated them like a unit.”
Switch studies the screen. “Which means when Alexei died…”
Riot nods. “Maksim lost more than an asset.”
My stomach tightens, then Riot taps the screen again and another image slides in beneath the first two.
An older man this time. Broader shoulders. Hard eyes. The kind of face that looks carved out of years of command.
Dagger’s posture shifts slightly. Just enough that I catch it.
“That’s Ivan Volkov,” Riot says. “Alexei’s father.”
My gaze flicks to Dagger automatically.
“The man you put down during the final deal,” Riot adds.
The room goes still in a different way now. Heavier. Sharper.
Piston lets out a low breath. “So that’s the missing piece.”
Mason’s jaw tightens. “That’s where the blood started.”
Riot nods. “Ivan’s death fractured the network. Alexei stepped up harder. Sergei pulled tighter control behind the scenes. And Maksim…” He gestures at the younger photo. “Maksim watched both of them fall.”
Blade’s voice is low. “So he’s not just coming for territory.”
“He’s coming for payback,” Ghost says.
Riot meets Mason’s gaze. “This isn’t about money. It’s about legacy.”
