Silence settles over the room. Alexander shifts his weight. Ivan watches me like he’s reassessing something.
Robbie breaks it first. “You’re braver than you look, Eddie.”
I manage a shaky smile. “I’m terrified.”
“Good,” Viktor says quietly. “Means you’re paying attention. Use that fear. It’s only adrenalin you haven’t got under control yet.”
He steps closer, cups my face with both hands. “You do exactly what I say tomorrow. No deviations. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, the word slipping out soft and natural.
His thumbs brush my cheeks. “Good boy.”
Robbie clears his throat. “Okay, lovebirds. I’ve got a shift to finish.”
Robbie heads back to the front. Alexander follows after a nod to Viktor. Ivan lingers a moment longer, then slips out too.
Viktor and I are alone in the cramped back room.
He pulls me against him, arms wrapping around my waist. “You scared? You didn’t have to do this. You need to know that.”
“I’m petrified,” I admit into his chest. “But I kind of like it.”
“Hmmm. You’ll be fine. But this isn’t a game,” Viktor warns, his voice low, steady. “I’ll be there. Every step.”
I tilt my head up. “Promise?”
“Swear it.”
I smile, grab my bag, and head back to my table by the window. The café is busier now, but I tune it out.
My sketchpad opens. My pencil moves.
The figures in my mind are sharper now.
But so is the threat in real life too…
Chapter 18
Viktor
The gallery is a ghost of what it was that fateful night—the police tape is gone, the bullet holes patched but not painted over, like faint scars on the walls… reminders of unfinished business.
We arrived early, slipping in through the back-alley door Ivan picked with ease. Now we wait in the shadows of the upper mezzanine, overlooking the main floor.
Alexander to my left, silent as stone, his bulk a reassuring presence.
Ivan to my right, lean and coiled, eyes on the entrance like a hawk spotting prey.
The space is dim, only emergency lights on—enough to see by, not enough to cast long shadows that give us away.
This ain’t my first rodeo.
But it might be Milo’s last…
“All good,” I say, my voice low.
“All good,” Ivan and Alexander reply in unison.
