Chapter Seventy Eight.

Chapter Seventy Eight.

Inside a dimly lit, velvet-drenched private room at the back of the club, the air was thick with smoke and sin. Loud bass vibrated faintly from beyond the soundproofed walls, but in here, time moved differently, slower, heavier, darker.

Alexei sat sprawled on a single-seater leather couch like it was a throne carved for him by the devil himself. One leg propped up, his tattoo-covered forearms resting lazily on the armrests.

A thick tobacco cigar burned slowly between his fingers as he exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke, the embers glowing briefly like the fire in his chest. His jet-black shirt was half-unbuttoned, exposing a wide stretch of tattooed chest that looked like inked armor.

His arms, neck, even the visible parts of his collarbone carried stories in Russian tattoos, dark symbols of death, war, and the underworld. Beside him, a bottle of expensive vodka sat untouched, and two armed men stood like statues near the exit, waiting for orders.

His men stood at attention, though they tried not to look too tense. They had seen what happened to those who brought him bad news… or worse, no answers at all.

Alexei’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he took a drag, then exhaled slowly, deliberately. “So,” he said in his deep, coarse Russian accent, “Viktor finally caught on.”

A bulky man with a scar running down his face and one missing eye nodded stiffly. “He’s already taken Yuri. Dragged him in this morning.”

Alexei’s cold laughter echoed across the room, sharp and mocking. A few of his men joined in, nervous chuckles that didn’t reach their eyes.

“That idiot was always meant to fall. He was nothing more than a sacrificial pawn. And he played his part beautifully,” Alexei drawled with a sick grin, tapping ash onto the Persian rug beneath his boot.

Another man stepped forward, narrow frame, round glasses, the one who always carried the updates like a noose around his neck. “Boss… Viktor is closing in faster than expected. He’s on our tail.”

Alexei’s jaw clenched. He took another drag, deeper this time, then exhaled in a puff of frustration. “That bastard” he muttered, his voice colder now.

The man with glasses cleared his throat. “And… there’s something else.”

Alexei’s eyes cut to him. “Speak.”

“A woman.”

The room fell silent. Dead silent. Even the smoke seemed to pause.

Alexei leaned forward just slightly, his entire demeanor shifting. “What woman?”

“She’s been seen near Viktor, spotted once at a Mall..No name yet. But… the rumors say she’s always in his reach. And…” the man hesitated.

Alexei’s stare was unblinking. “And what?”

“She… caused a fight between Marco and Viktor.”

That made Alexei sit back slowly, gaze darkening like a storm cloud rolling in. His fingers flexed around the cigar as he stared at nothing in particular, the information sinking in like poison in water.

“A fight?” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Yes, boss. And it ended bloody, Marco was out numbered...All that.... Over her.”

Something flickered in Alexei’s expression, interest, calculation, and something more primal.

“You're telling me Viktor, the ice-cold monster with no soft spot, has a woman under his skin?” His voice turned into a sinister whisper, and then a short, humorless chuckle escaped him. “Interesting.”

“What’s her name?” he snapped suddenly.

“I… I don’t know. She’s untraceable so far. Name hasn’t surfaced—”

Before the man could finish, Alexei lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. The man choked slightly, his glasses skewed.

“Then find out who the fuck she is,” Alexei growled, his voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t want guesses. I want her name, her face, her fucking blood type.”

He shoved the man back roughly, who stumbled before catching himself and nodding frantically.

Alexei stood slowly, walking to the window. His cigar dangled forgotten between his fingers.

“If this is true…” he said in a voice that turned from amused to deadly, “then Viktor finally has a weakness.”

He turned back to the room with a smile so twisted it sent a chill down everyone's spine.

“And I’ll make sure he watches her die before I put him in the ground.”

He laughed, deep, cold, and echoing, as his men remained still, silently acknowledging what was to come.

♤♤♤

Xena exhaled deeply, her fingers slipping between the pages of the book as she gently closed it. The quiet click of the hardcover echoed in the still room.

Her eyes drifted to the tall window near her reading chair, and a small frown tugged at her lips.

The sky outside was greyish blue, the late afternoon sun playing hide and seek behind scattered clouds. It was one of those rare days she simply wanted to feel the breeze on her skin, anything to escape the cage of silence this mansion brought.

She stood slowly and walked out the study room.

Descending the grand staircase with slow steps, she glanced around the vast hallway, empty.

“Zoya?” she called softly. “Alina?”

Nothing.

She chewed lightly on her bottom lip, uncertain. She wasn’t sure where they were.

With a shrug, she turned and padded quietly toward the double doors.

Just a few minutes outside. She needed air.

But just as her hand grazed the doorknob...

“Ma’am?”

Xena flinched hard, hand pulling back. She turned, startled, and saw Svetlana standing behind her, almost too silently for comfort.

“Oh… hi,” she said, forcing a smile to mask her nerves.

Svetlana’s expression didn’t change much. “Do you need something?”

Xena blinked, then cleared her throat. “Uh, no. Not really. I was just… looking for Zoya. I thought I’d go out into the garden for a bit.” She gestured lightly to the doors.

But Svetlana’s lips curved into a polite, tight smile. “I would advise you stay indoors, ma’am.”

Xena’s brows furrowed. “What? Why? It’s just the garden…”

Svetlana kept her posture firm. “It’s an instruction.”

Xena stilled. Her face tightened. She didn’t need a crystal ball to know who was behind this.

“Let me guess… Viktor?” she muttered dryly.

Svetlana gave a single, respectful nod. No further explanation.

Xena sighed heavily, looking toward the door again, as if it could sense her frustration and open itself out of pity.

But nothing moved. She pressed her lips together, biting back the sting of annoyance rising in her throat.

“It’s okay.” she mumbled finally, though it didn’t feel okay at all.

With a nod, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the stairs, her flat sandals soundless on the marble.

“Stupid man…” she hissed under her breath. “Just come back first, then we’ll see.”

Each step up the staircase felt heavier than the last, her anger simmering just beneath her calm exterior.

Will he continue to Restrict her. Control her movement. Especially when he isn’t even here.

Svetlana remained in place, watching Xena retreat with quiet amusement.

A faint smile ghosted her lips. Then, softly, in Russian, she whispered to herself with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Krasivaya…”

(Pretty...)

And with that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking softly against the floor.