The stairwell comes into view and I curse, not expecting that. He’s heading downstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time and burst through the basement door into a maze of storage rooms and medical waste disposal. I take a moment to orient myself with my surroundings. Concrete walls. Flickering fluorescent lights. The sharp smell of disinfectant that makes my nose sting and something else.
And there—Alexei, spinning to face me with his gun raised.
We stare at each other. Brothers. Enemies. Everything we were and everything we’ve become compressed into this single moment.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” he says calmly, almost regretfully. “You could have stepped aside and let me lead. We could have ruled together. Konstantin promised?—”
“Konstantin is a liar and a traitor,” I cut him off. My voice is deadly calm despite the rage churning in my gut. “And you’re a fool for believing him.”
“I’ma fool?” Alexei laughs and it’s bitter and harsh. “I’m not the one who got manipulated into marrying Vera. That was all part of the plan, you know. Get you emotionally attached and make you care about her and the baby so when we took them, it would destroy you.”
“Except I’m not destroyed.” I take a step closer. “I’m right here and you’re the one who’s lost.”
“Have I?” His finger tightens on the trigger. “Looks pretty even to me.”
“You faked your death,” I say, and each word is sharp enough to cut. “You let me think the Ashfords killed you. I fuckinggrievedyou. You started a war and got innocent people killed. And for what? So Konstantin could use you as a puppet?”
Alexei’s cheeks turn red with anger “I’m nobody’s puppet!” he spits out.
“You always have been a puppet!” I shout. “You were never strong enough to lead or smart enough to see the big picture. You were the charming one. The fun one. But leadership?” I shake my head. “You don’t have it in you.”
His face twists with rage. “Fuck you, Dimitri. Fuck you and your?—”
He fires.
I dive right behind a storage shelf, and return fire. Bullets tear through cardboard and metal, sending supplies scattering.
We’re circling each other through the basement. We both know each other’s moves since we were trained by our father (and then me).
But I’m bigger and stronger. and I’m fighting for something real.
Alexei’s fighting for pride. For validation. For the ghost of respect he’ll never actually earn.
We crash together behind a pile of medical waste containers, grappling hand-to-hand. Our guns go flying. It’s just fists and fury now.
He catches me with a right hook that makes my ears ring and I return with an uppercut that snaps his head back. We’re both bleeding with split lips and busted knuckles, and my goddamn shoulder feels like it's on fire.
Alexei lunges for me and we ram into storage shelves, sending supplies everywhere. He gets me in a chokehold but I drive my elbow back into his ribs until he lets go. We separate, gasping as we circle each other.
“We were brothers,” I say, spitting blood onto the ground. “I loved you.”
“You loved the version of me that stayed in your shadow,” he snarls, blood trickling from a nasty gash near his temple. “Not who I actually was.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I never really saw him or understood the resentment building beneath all that charm.
But that doesn’t matter now.
He lunges again and we go down hard, rolling across concrete. He ends up on top, pinning me, and his hands find my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds like he means it. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
He starts squeezing and I buck my hips and flail, trying to get him off me but I’m too injured. My vision starts to darken. I claw at his hands but his grip is iron.
This is it. This is how I die, killed by my own brother in an improper chokehold in a fucking medical office basement.
I’m sorry, Vera. I’m so sorry.
