VIKTOR
I leaned back in the chair, the city's garish sunlight spilling across the table like a careless spotlight, but my attention stayed pinned to the boy—no, the man—across from me.
Kairen sat in that perfectly cut suit, hair styled just right, gold cufflinks catching the light like he belonged in a magazine spread. But beneath the gloss and polish, there was an edge to him, a tension that curled in the way his fingers tapped a slow, irregular rhythm against the table, against his tablet. His eyes were sharp, slanted, the color of old gold coins dulled with time, tracked the room with a kind of calculated indifference. But I'd seen enough men under pressure to know the signs.
The shift in his gaze. The subtle tightening of his jaw. The way he breathed a little too shallow, as if bracing for impact.
He was playing at control, pretending he had it, while the world behind him—Dimitri's world—tightened like a noose around his throat. The kid was thrashing against the inevitable, lashing out where he could. That was why he bared his teeth at me, why he played the reckless prince in front of subordinates. Because deep down, he was fucking scared. He knew whose empire this was. And he knew he was a pawn, dancing on strings he couldn't cut.
I exhaled, a faint breath through my nose, wondering, when it finally came time to pull the trigger, would I hesitate?
And if I did, would it be for him, or for myself?
The thought lingered, sour on my tongue, as the barista arrived with our drinks. She set the caramel macchiato in front of Kairen and the black Americano in front of me, her hands trembling just a little as she glanced between us.
Kairen picked up his cup, sipping with a casual grace that didn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. I took mine in a slow, deliberate motion, letting the bitter heat coat my throat. It was as sharp and dark as I expected, fitting.
Neither of us spoke as we finished our drinks. The moment passed in silence, a quiet pause before the inevitable grind of the day took over.
We left the coffee shop, crossing the street back to the building that was more cage than kingdom, its towering glass façade reflecting the sterile sky. Inside, the air grew heavier with each step, a weight settling over everything.
The elevator hummed as we ascended to the executive floor. Kairen's secretary, Jace, young, polished, too nervous for his own good, was already pacing the corridor like a cornered animal. The moment he spotted us, he rushed forward, tablet clutched to his chest.
"Sir—Mr. Kurov-Shin—the board members have all arrived. They've been waiting for a few minutes already."
Kairen's mouth curved into a faint, dismissive smile. "Let them wait a few more," he murmured, his tone almost careless.
But I wasn't fooled. His shoulders were too straight, his jaw a touch too tight. Underneath that smooth exterior, he was coiling, every instinct warning him of the predators waiting behind those polished boardroom doors. The sharks, if you could call them that, were already circling, waiting for the first sign of blood.
We reached the double doors of the conference room. Jace scurried ahead, pushing them open with a quick, apologetic nod.
Kairen stepped in without hesitation, his posture easy, controlled. But I saw the flicker in his gaze, the momentary shift that spoke of nerves he'd never admit to. He was walking into a den of wolves, pretending he was the one with the teeth.
I followed Kairen into the boardroom, the quiet click of his shoes on polished marble breaking the low hum of conversation. He didn't look back at me, but I felt the heat of his awareness, as if he knew I was there, shadowing him every step of the way.
The room was filled with tailored suits and predatory smiles, men and women who'd clawed their way into power but now sat waiting like vultures circling a fresh kill. They were the old blood, the trusted hands of the Kurov-Shin empire, but none of them looked pleased to see their new master.
The man at the head of the table, Artem Krow, the CFO and acting head until Kairen's sudden return, stood as we entered. Artem was a sleek man, his salt-and-pepper hair styled with precision, his smile a touch too practiced to be genuine. "Ah, Mr. Kurov-Shin," he said smoothly. "We were wondering when you'd join us. I believe some introductions are in order?"
Kairen's lips twitched, the faintest curve that wasn't quite a smile. He settled into the chair at the head of the table, his father's chair, and let his gaze sweep over the room. His voice was smooth, with that little bite of arrogance I'd come to expect. "I believe you all know who I am. But go ahead—introduce yourselves. I'd like to put names to faces."
One by one, the board members went around, naming themselves, CFO Artem, a few senior VPs, directors of various departments. Their voices were careful, respectful, but there was an undercurrent of tension, a subtle disdain simmering beneath the surface. They thought he was a spoiled brat playing at power, and it showed.
The meeting officially began, papers shuffled, and Artem cleared his throat to begin discussing pending projects, finances, and partnerships. Kairen's posture was deceptively relaxed, but I could see it, the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the too-still hands. The sharks smelled blood.
Then one of the older board members, a man with a thick neck and a pinched expression, let his gaze flick to me, lingering a little too long. "If I may," he said smoothly, "it's highly irregular to have… a bodyguard sitting in on these meetings. Perhaps Mr. Kairen would prefer to keep certain… company matters confidential."
Kairen's fingers twitched, just the slightest slip, his mask faltering.
Before he could recover, I spoke.
I leaned forward, my voice calm but laced with steel. "Viktor Volkov," I said evenly, letting the name hang in the air like a blade. "I work directly for Mr. Dmitri Kurov-Shin. If you have any concerns about my presence, I suggest you take them up with him. He's always willing to entertain… concerns from his employees."
The board member's face paled a shade, his bluster evaporating as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The air thickened with a sudden, palpable unease.
But the bastard wasn't done. He turned back to Kairen, a forced smile stretching his lips. "Ah, I see. Of course. Though I do wonder—does the son of Dimitri let his… bodyguard speak for him now?"
Kairen's eyes flicked to me, a fleeting glance, sharp and uncertain. I met his gaze with a steady, unreadable look, my expression carved from stone, but behind it was a flicker of something lethal and dependable.
And just like that, Kairen's expression shifted. His lips curved into something sharper, darker. His voice, when he spoke, was silk over steel. "Viktor doesn't speak for me. But he does speak for my father. And I suggest you remember that before you say something that might cost you your position—or your life." His tone was light, almost playful, but the threat beneath it was as clear as a gun to the head.
I let a slow, amused smirk curl my lips. There he is.
Artem Krow stepped in then, his smile practiced, the perfect blend of appeasement and subtle menace. "Gentlemen, let's not derail the meeting. We have important matters to discuss. Shall we proceed?"
The tension eased slightly as the meeting resumed, but the undercurrent of unease lingered. They moved on to discussions of pending projects, partnerships with overseas firms, the shifting market. The Roman family came up, a name that made my mouth taste faintly of smoke and gunmetal.
I'd worked with the Romans once. Ewan Roman, a man as dangerous as Dmitri but with a more polished façade, and his son Kael, ruthless, sharp as broken glass. There'd been jobs in the shadows, before I was Dmitri's blade. Back then, Kael and I and Jarek, the bastard who brought me into the fold, had taken on an operation that had left bodies in its wake and a few ghosts in my own mind.
When one of the board members made a veiled comment, suggesting the Romans might be getting too bold with their recent moves, Kairen's voice cut through like a blade. "I'd be careful throwing shade at the Romans," he said lazily. "You wouldn't want to find yourself on the wrong side of an 'accident,' would you?"
The room went quiet. The board member swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to the papers in front of him.
I leaned back in my chair, watching Kairen with growing amusement. I hadn't expected this, the same kid who was running from his father's men half-naked and high out of his mind, now sitting here, oozing quiet menace and control. The shift in him was almost beautiful. Dangerous.
And I couldn't help the slow, crooked smirk that curled my lips. Oh, you're going to be fun to watch unravel, little prince.