His chin lifts again. “Ivan promised results.”
“Results,” I echo, letting the word drag.
Maksim adjusts in the chair again as he tries to look unbothered and fails.
“Give me names,” I demand. “Everyone who coordinated this. Everyone who moved assets. Everyone who thinks Arkady should sit where I sit.”
His laugh is brittle. “You think killing me changes anything?”
“I don’t think,” I reply. “I decide.”
That draws his attention hard. His eyes narrow, and for the first time, there’s a hint of caution. Not fear. Not yet. But awareness.
He wets his split lip with his tongue. “If you kill me, Arkady won’t stop.”
“If I keep you alive, Arkady won’t stop either.” I let that simmer, then add, “But men will notice the difference.”
He tries to sneer again. “What difference?”
“That loyalty has a cost.”
His shoulders tense. He tests the cuffs with a small movement and hears the chain rattle.
I move closer until I’m within arm’s reach, then stop. But I don’t touch him.
“You confirmed what I needed,” I tell him. “Arkady aligned with an outsider to pressure me through Rowan.”
Maksim’s eyes flash. “Pressure works.”
I take a step to the side so he has to turn his head to keep looking at me. “Only when the man being pressured is weak.”
His mouth opens as if to push again, but he falters when he sees my expression. Calm, unmoved, and cold. This is the moment he realizes he’s not in control of the room.
His voice drops. “She’s not worth this.”
The sentence is a mistake. It isn’t just an insult, it’s a dismissal. It’s the kind of line men use when they want to turn a person into currency.
Rowan isn’t a currency.
I straighten. My hand goes into my coat and comes out with my gun.
His eyes widen just slightly, the smallest crack in his certainty. “You can’t.”
I don’t argue. The shot is quiet in this room because of the sound-dampening panels, but it’s still a gunshot. It snaps through the air, leaving a ringing silence behind.
Maksim’s head jerks, and his body slackens, the chain rattling once as his weight pulls forward before going still. Blood runs in a narrow line down the steel leg of the chair, dark against the metal as it gathers near the drain.
I lower the weapon. My breathing remains calm. Not because I feel nothing, but because control isn’t optional. Control is survival.
I turn toward the door. Karp is waiting outside. His eyes dart past me into the room, then back to my face.
I hand him the gun without comment. “Dispose of it, quietly.”
Karp takes it. His expression tightens for a moment, then he nods once. He doesn’t question the choice. He understands it was necessary.
We leave the hallway together. The building feels the same. The lights hum. The cold persists. But the message has been sent through the veins of my organization.
Loyalty isn’t debated. It’s enforced.
