A sanctioned awakening.
Thousands expected.
A revival-style sermon. A public assembly on a scale meant to pull bodies, cameras, attention. Right here in Los Angeles. My grip tightens on the edge of the device.
Of course it is.
For fuck sake, can we not get five minutes?I look up slowly, eyes cutting from the screen to Chace.
Chace leans back slightly, hands loosely clasped, sunglasses hiding most of what he’s thinking.
I exhale through my nose, setting the iPad down on the table between us.
“So,” I say quietly, eyes still on the screen, “that didn’t take him long.”
Chace gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. Niko speaks first, his Russian accent cutting clean through the heat.
“In four days, Gideon will hold this gathering,” he says. “That gives us four days to plan.”
He leans forward slightly, eyes hard.
“This is going to be dangerous. Not like before.” A pause. “The men protecting Gideon are trained to kill. Not just his flock—” his mouth twists faintly at the word, “—his followers, his congregation… whatever you call them. Galina’s men will be there too.”
Chace shifts beside him, finally speaking.
“I’m going to contact her,” he says calmly. “Galina. Try and get her to meet. If I can find out what she wants, we might be able to strike a deal—”
“No.”
Niko cuts him off instantly.
His gaze doesn’t move from the table.
“I will kill her,” he says evenly. “No negotiation. No mercy.”
Then, quieter.
“They call me ??????? ?????.” coming out, it sounds like tenevoy prints
The Russian rolls off his tongue.
“Shadow Prince.”
Logan and Sam shift uncomfortably, the tension tightening around the table like a drawn wire.
“The women stay here. Stay safe,” Niko says, taking control without effort, like it’s already been decided and we’re just catching up.
There’s a pause—brief, but absolute.
“I will go on a hunt.”
His mouth curves into something dark as he pushes back from the table and rises. The chair legs scrape softly against the stone.
He looks to Chace.
“You will not contact Galina. You will stay here until I am ready. Then I will extract the Preacher from among his herd and deliver him at your gates. His fate will be in your hands. You will not let him get away again, yes?”
He inclines his head toward me—small, deliberate acknowledgment—then turns away and walks toward one of his men stationed at the edge of the poolside, already moving like the decision was never in question.
