I rise from my seat slowly.
And for the first time in years—since the old London days, since I buried the part of myself that terrified even my brothers—I let the Ice Prince surface.
The temperature in the room drops.
My voice is quiet, but lethal.
“We end this in Zurich. No negotiations.”
Silence settles—heavy, absolute.
The room falls silent—thick, unmoving, electric.
Lukin clears his throat first. “How, Dimitri? You can’t just storm in. Swiss authorities are watching every Rusnak financial movement. One wrong step and Interpol will have all our names lit up on their boards. If you go in guns blazing, it’ll blow up in all our faces.”
I grit my teeth but don’t speak. I already know he’s right.
Roman leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Deveraux is hosting a private luncheon in Zurich tomorrow. High-profile bankers, old-money families, shadow players. He thinks he’s untouchable.” He pauses. “I can get you in under an alias. But only if you can make it to Zurich by tomorrow afternoon. And—it’s a couples’ event. You’ll need a date.”
I don’t hesitate. “I can manage that. Everything I need to travel is ready.”
Roman rises, grabbing his coat. “Then excuse me. I’ll prep the invitations and scrub the alias. It’ll take some time.”
He leaves the room with a sharp nod.
The moment he’s gone, Niko angles his head at me. “So who are you taking? Vivian?”
“No.” The answer comes out too quickly, too hard. I force my jaw to unclench. “I don’t want her involved in the grit. Not this part. She stays out of Zurich.”
Niko nods slowly, reading everything I’m not saying—how close the danger is, how personal it’s getting.
I stand. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get ready for travel.”
Lukin steps forward and clasps my shoulder. “Good hunting, brother. And if you need anything—anything—you call.”
I nod once. “I will.”
Then I leave the room, the decision already burning through my veins.
Zurich is waiting. And so is Deveraux.
***
As soon as I step out of the elevator into the penthouse, my mind is already three steps ahead. I find Sylvester in the hallway, clipboard in hand, always prepared.
“Get everything ready,” I tell him. “We’re flying to Zurich tonight. Call the family captain and have the jet fueled within the hour.”
Sylvester doesn’t blink. He nods once. “Yes, sir.”
I don’t waste another second.
I go straight to find Vivian.
She’s standing by the window, wrapped in one of my shirts, the sleeves swallowing her wrists. Her bare legs catch the soft light, but her face—her face is pale, tight, bracing for something she already senses is bad.
When she hears me enter, she turns sharply.
“Where have you been?”
