I used her as a pawn, and I lost her.
While they were tearing her apart, she didn't betray me. She saved herself because I wasn't there to do it.
If I leave her there... if I storm the Foundry without the trade... Moretti will kill her before I even breach the door. He'll cut her throat while I fight his guards.
In the end, I’ll be just like her father. The man who traded her soul for a shipping container.
The Bratva Elders are waiting. They want a leader made of ice. They expect me to let my wife burn to keep the throne. To let her die for the sake of the blood debt.
If I give Moretti the tablet, it’s treason. I'll be a dead man before I touch the crown.
Facing my mistakes, I look at the empty bed.
I remember the day she signed the marriage papers. It was a transaction. Her hand shook so hard when she held the pen that the ink bled on the page. Her signature marked my victory.
I thought I’d captured a pawn—the final asset to destroy her father. I didn't know I was signing my own surrender. I didn't know a day would come when the thought of that signature fading would bring me to my knees.
The next twenty years of my life flash before my eyes. Winning the war. Ruling the city. Twenty years of never seeing her in this bed again, sleeping alone, with nothing but my crown and my ghosts.
The vengeance meant everything to me for years. It was the fire that kept me warm.
But looking at the empty pillow, I realize vengeance is cold.
I can burn the Italians. I can kill every man in this city. But if I come back to this room and she isn’t here., I’m not a King. I'm a man in a graveyard.
The stark truth breaks me.
"Fuck," I whisper.
I stand and walk back into the office.
Ivan is checking his pistol. "Team is ready, Boss. We have twenty men. Snipers moving to?—"
"Stand them down.”
Ivan freezes. "What?"
"Stand them down," I repeat. "No team. No assault. No snipers."
I walk past him to the safe and spin the dial. I pull the heavy steel door open and grab the tablet.
The device weighs heavily in my hand. It’s worth billions. The price of an empire. The death of my enemies.
"Open the casing," I shove the device against his chest.
He fumbles with it, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. "Konstantin?"
"Put a tracker inside the hardware," I say. "The smallest one we have. Something scanners won't pick up."
Ivan takes the tablet, eyes widening. He pulls a micro-screwdriver set from his tactical vest.
"You're going to give it to them," he says. "You're trading the weapons."
"I’m going to lend it to them," I correct him. "Think about it, Ivan. TheLady Anastasiais still days away. Even if Moretti has this tablet, he can't use it yet. It’s useless until the ship is loaded and on the return vector."
I watch as Ivan unscrews the back panel. He places a microchip no larger than a rice grain near the battery.
"He thinks he’s won the war," I say. "But he’s only bought a paperweight. For the next five days, that tablet is nothing but glass."
