I waited until Arthur was weak and I was strong enough to not simply kill them, but to own them.
You made me this, Arthur,I think.
I toss the towel onto the floor.
I’m the monster you created. And now, I’ve come home.
"Boss."
I turn.
Lev is waiting. The chair is empty. Alexei is gone.
"The girl is locked in," Lev says. "She has spirit. But spirit breaks."
"Let her be," I say, adjusting my cuffs. "Fear is a better jailer than any lock. Let her sit in the dark and think about what I’m capable of."
I walk out of the interrogation room and step into my private office. The walls are lined, the shelves filled with first editions I never read.
At the desk, I pour a glass of vodka.
Lev follows me in. He closes the door.
"Tonight... it was risky, Konstantin," he says quietly. "The game. If the old man had folded... if he hadn't taken the bait..."
I sit down in the high-backed leather chair and open the humidor. The smell of rich tobacco fills the air. I select a cigar and roll it between my fingers.
"Arthur Blackwood is an addict, Lev. Addicts don't fold. They double down."
I cut the cigar with a silver guillotine.
"I didn't leave it to chance," I explain, lighting the tobacco. "I owned the debt he was trying to pay. And, most importantly..." I exhale a cloud of blue smoke. "I owned the dealer."
Lev raises an eyebrow.
"The deck was cold," I say, a cruel smile touching my lips. "I knew exactly what cards were coming. I knew he would catch theFull House on the river. I gave it to him and put the hope in his hands so I could crush it."
I didn't gamble for the Blackwood Company. I took it. The poker game was a theater to get his signature on the deed.
"We have the ships," Lev says. "The Elders will be pleased. The route is open."
I scoff. "The Elders are never pleased. They are hungry wolves. They still look at me and see Viktor’s broken son. They see an Enforcer. A dog that they can point at their enemies."
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. This is the part Lev doesn't understand yet. This isn't about revenge. It’s about the Throne.
"To become Pakhan... to take the seat my father lost, I cannot just be a killer. I must be a King. I need an empire." I pull a file from the stack on my desk. "The Bratva is choking, Lev. We have weapons sitting in warehouses in St. Petersburg that we cannot move. We have technology in Venezuela that is gathering dust. Every time we try to move a shipment on a Russian-flagged vessel, NATO stops us. The customs agents tear the ships apart."
I open the file. Inside are schematics. Blueprints of the Blackwood’s ship.
"Blackwood Shipping is a British-registered company," I say, tapping the paper. "Sterling reputation. A clean history. Customs agents wave their ships through with a smile and a salute."
"And now we own them," Lev says, realization dawning on his face. "We use her ships as a shield."
"Exactly," I say. "We load the legitimate cargo—grain, steel, machinery—on the top decks. And underneath? In the false hulls? We move the Shadow Cargo. The weapons. The cash."
"And if they get caught?"
"If they get caught," I say coldly, "the manifest is signed by the manager, Helena. The paper trail leads to the Blackwoodfamily. Helena goes to prison. Arthur takes the fall. And I remain untouchable."
