I would not threaten.
I would remove.
Systematically. Completely.
California was about to understand what happened when someone touched what belonged to Ruslan Baranov.
I adjusted my grip on Daphne.
“Stay close to me,” I told her.
“Okay.”
She nodded immediately.
A small ghost of a smile touched my lips despite the storm inside me.
Good.
I carried her outside to the waiting convoy.
Within minutes we were airborne again.
Direction: Greece.
The only territory on earth where my power was absolute.
No hostile families.
No compromised law enforcement.
No rivals operating freely.
Athens was mine.
Every port controlled.
Every dock monitored.
Every political figure indebted.
My estate outside the city rose from the dark like a fortress carved from ancient stone.
The jet descended smoothly.
The moment the doors opened, security guards lined the perimeter — weapons discreet but ready.
Yannis stood at the main entrance.
Taller.
Broader.
His posture no longer that of a boy.
But of someone trained to inherit power.
Floodlights illuminated him from behind, casting sharp shadows across his face.
