“Oh don’t worry, he has no choice. I make sure of that, he wanted to be a true brother so bad but how?” Viktor sneers, stepping up the first few stairs. “When he had gambling debts he couldn’t pay, and a mother who was so easy to find. He’s been my puppetfor years, Razvan. He was the one who helped me frame the Sokolovas!”
Mike’s voice is hollow, cracking with a decade of guilt. “I had to, Razvan. At first, it was the money…then they threatened my ma. I’ve regretted it since the second I did it. Every night I spent in that dungeon with her, making sure she was fed, making sure you treated her well, I was trying to fix the rot I helped create. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, brother.”
The betrayal is a physical weight, but there is no time for it. In the chaos, a grenade from the balcony blows the hinges off the nursery door. The frame buckles. Theo, terrified by the blast and the screaming, managed to slip past the latch Lena was holding. He rushes out into the corridor, screaming for me.
“Superman! Dad!”
No, what is he doing here?
Theo is in the middle of the hallway. Viktor, downstairs, sees the small target and snarls. He’s lost his mind. He levels his rifle at the boy. “If I can’t have the throne, you have nothing!”
“No!” I scream, but I’m too far.
Mike doesn’t hesitate. He throws himself across the open space, his body a human shield. The crack of the rifle echoes through the house. The bullet meant for my son hits Mike squarely in the chest. He goes down hard, his back hitting the wall outside the nursery. Theo falls with him, tucked under Mike’s heavy arm, shielded from the spray of lead.
I reach them in three strides, shoving Theo back toward Lena. “Get him inside! Lyosha, take him! Go!”
Lyosha grabs the crying boy and disappears through the back service stairs. But Lena doesn’t go. She stays, pressed against the wall, her eyes locked on mine. I see the fear in her, but I see the resolve too. I realize in that moment that I need her here, but I also need her safe.
“Go with Leo, please.”
I turn to Mike. The wound is horrific—frothy, dark blood bubbling from his chest. “Make it…fast,” Mike wheezes, his hand clutching at my sleeve. “I loved you…like a brother. Protect him, Razvan. I tried to make it right…with her…with the boy…”
The pain in my chest is worse than the graze on my shoulder. This is my brother. He betrayed me, but he spent every day since trying to save my family from the shadows. I look into his eyes and see the man I grew up with. With a shaking hand, I do the only kind thing I can. I make it fast.
As Mike’s body goes limp, a roar rips out of my throat—a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. I stand up, and I am no longer a man. I am a storm.
Viktor is coming up the stairs. I don’t shoot him. I want to feel his bones break. I meet him halfway, my fist colliding with his jaw with enough force to turn his head. We tackle each other, tumbling down the stairs in a mess of limbs. We hit the foyer floor, and I rain blows down on his face until he’s unrecognizable. I wrap my hands around his throat, ready to end it.
I look at Viktor, gasping beneath me, but I don’t kill him. I pull back, breathing hard, and signal to Dmitri. “Secure him. The basement. Now.”
I stand up, my muscles screaming in protest. My side is bleeding from a graze I didn’t even notice, and my knuckles are raw. I look down at Mike. I can’t leave him here like this. I reach down and scoop his body up into my arms. He’s heavy, a solid weight of loss that feels like it’s going to break my spine.
I begin the long walk back through the compound. I carry him past the shattered statues and the bullet-riddled walls. I carry him past the bodies of men I’ve known for years, lying in piles of brass and blood. The stench of cordite and entrails is thick in the air, a visceral reminder of the cost of my throne.
As I reach the main foyer, I see Lena ahead of me.
She’s standing by the scorched remains of the grand piano, Theo clutched in her arms. Her face is pale, her eyes wide as she watches me descend the stairs with Mike’s body. She sees the blood on my face, the gore on my clothes, and the hollow emptiness in my eyes.
She walks down the stairs slowly and stops in front of me.
“This is the cost,” she says, her voice a whisper. “I see what you carry every day. The bodies…the weight of it all.”
“I need you,” I admit, my voice breaking. “I can’t do this alone, Lena.”
I reach the bottom and set Mike down on the marble floor, folding his hands over his chest. I don’t look at her. I can’t. I just stand there, staring at the blood on my palms, feeling the weight of every choice I’ve ever made.
Lena doesn’t offer me empty comfort. She doesn’t tell me it’s going to be okay or give me pretty words about sacrifice. She knows me too well for that. She just walks over, still holdingTheo, and stands near me. She doesn’t touch me—I’m too covered in the dead for that—but she stays. She anchors me to the earth when I feel like I’m about to drift away into the red mist.
“He saved him,” she whispers, looking at Mike.
“He did,” I say.
I look at Viktor, who is being dragged past us by two of my men, his face beaten into a pulp, his eyes still full of a flickering, impotent rage. I don’t feel anger toward him anymore. I don’t feel anything. I just feel the cold, hard certainty of what comes next.
“Take Theo to the guest house,” I tell her, finally looking at her. “It’s clean there. Lyosha will go with you.”
“Razvan—”