Then my temper detonates—violently, instantly.
“Of course,” I sneer, pacing like a caged animal. “It always comes back to that cursed family.”
Sebastian doesn’t interrupt. He knows better.
“They breed poison,” I spit. “Every time I think I’ve cut them out, another viper crawls out of some hole. They’ve been losing power for years. This is exactly the kind of cowardly stunt they’d pull to claw some back.”
The room goes still again. Thick. Heavy. Sylvester clears his throat softly, stepping forward like he’s approaching a live explosive.
“Dimitri,” he says, voice steady, “maybe you should call Roman. Loop him in. Get his advice before this escalates.”
My laugh is humorless. A sharp, dangerous sound. “Roman has enough on his plate.”
Sylvester pushes gently. “He won’t see it that way.”
I shake my head. “I’m not dragging him into this.”
“I think—”
“I said no.”
The word cracks through the room like a whip.
Niko’s face tightens on the video feed. Lev leans back, silently watching, already calculating outcomes.
Sebastian folds his arms and studies me with that annoyingly perceptive gaze of his. “You’re being stubborn,” he says, not unkindly.
“I’ll clean up my own mess,” I snap. “This started decades ago, long before Vivian. Long before any of you were involved. I’m not calling another one of my brothers so he can carry weight that belongs to me. I have three of you involved, and that’s already too much.”
Sebastian lifts one brow. “Right. Because God forbid Roman realizes you’re not immortal.”
I grit my teeth.
“I’m handling this,” I say, voice low, lethal. “The Laurents sent a message.” I look each of them in the eyes. “Now I’ll send mine back.”
The room goes quiet—Lev’s jaw ticking on the screen, Niko leaning forward like he wants to break something, Sebastian raising an eyebrow like he always does when he finds my rage entertaining.
We spend the next hour bouncing ideas off each other. Night falls. Still nothing solid. No strategy that doesn’t leave us exposed. No solution that doesn’t risk Vivian.
By the time the others decide to regroup tomorrow, my entire body feels wired, heavy, and restless.
I head straight for Vivian’s suite. I haven’t seen her since last night. She hasn’t stepped out all day. Kyle keeps saying she’s been in her room, quiet. Too quiet.
I stop at her door and knock once.
Silence.
“Vivian.” My voice is rough, too sharp. “Open up.”
The door opens instantly.
And she’s just…standing there, in a black lounge set that hugs her skin and makes my pulse misfire for half a second before I drag my eyes back to her face. She looks tired—no, wrung out. Big eyes, soft and startled, like she’s been pacing this room for hours.
She steps closer and grips my arm. “Kyle said you’ve been working nonstop on figuring out what happened. Did you find anything?”
There’s no way to soften it.
“We did,” I say, blunt. “Someone called Pavel Koval was behind the shooting. He has motive, and he wants me dead. That’s the first part.”
