Have I ever given him a reason to trust me?
Has my family ever?
For a long, suffocating moment, he just looks at me. Really looks at me. The file hangs at his side, his knuckles white around the edge. Then he steps closer, lowering his voice.
“Vivian…” he says gently, almost tender. “This changes everything.”
My breath catches. “You…believe me?”
His eyes flicker—something raw, something unguarded—but before he can respond, the door slams open. Sylvester bursts in, chest heaving, his expression carved from pure dread. “They’ve hit another target,” he says. “And this time, they left a message for you.”
He tosses something onto the desk. A bloodstained envelope.
Thick. Heavy. Addressed in jagged, bold letters:
TO DIMITRI RUSNAK AND HIS BRIDE.
A chill tears straight through me.
Dimitri snatches the envelope, rips it open, and what falls out makes my entire body go rigid.
A single photograph.
The Koval insignia—painted across a Laurent family estate in dripping red. And under it, the words:
“The debt ends in blood.”
Chapter 17 – Dimitri
The bloodstained envelope sits on my desk, long after Sylvester and Vivian have left. The city outside hums with indifference, but inside, the air is thick with tension, and every shadow feels like a predator waiting for a mistake.
I pace, vodka glass in hand, the amber liquid untouched. My mind replays everything: the payments under her mother’s name, the Koval insignia smeared across a Laurent estate, the audacity of someone turning my carefully calculated revenge into a free-for-all of chaos.
A low, cold rage rises from my chest, curling like smoke through my veins—the same fury that once made me untouchable, the nightmare whispered about in Europe’s underworld. But beneath it, something new gnaws at me. Fear. For her. For Vivian.
I slam the glass down. The vodka spills across the polished wood, a dark mirror of the chaos in my mind. How dare they bring my wife into this?
The thought of her trembling, her innocence caught in a war not her own, claws at me. I pace faster, boots scraping the floor. My fists tighten around nothing. I feel my control slipping, the meticulous mask cracking, revealing the predator beneath—but this time, it isn’t just about power or revenge.
It’s personal.
I think of Vivian’s face when she told me about the payments. Her voice trembling as she handed me the file.We’ve both been played.
And yes, someone played us both, but if they think they can manipulate her, use her as bait, or make her a casualty…they haven’t met Dimitri Rusnak.
I lift the glass to my lips, but it doesn’t quench my bitterness. My eyes lock on the envelope again, and I know, without hesitation: Whoever did this will regret it.
Blood will answer blood. And anyone who dares touch Vivian will burn.
I don’t even care if the fire consumes me in the process.
I grab my phone and dial Lev. He picks up on the second ring.
“You good?” he asks.
I brief him: the photo, the insignia, the message meant for me and my wife, the escalating attacks. I tell him I’m going to attack as soon as Sebastian finds something tangible.”
“Fuck those bastards.” His tone darkens. “Dimitri…handle it quietly. Okay?”
