Chapter Sixty.

Viktor’s jaw tightened, his body growing tense like a lion ready to strike.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Mikhail asked softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Because I couldn’t,” Nana whispered. “She was too young. Too fragile. If she had known the truth, she would’ve gone looking for them. She would’ve tried to find Marco. And that boy… that monster… he’s been watching. Waiting. Biding his time all these years. Just waiting for her to come of age.”

“She was never safe,” Viktor muttered under his breath, rage building like wildfire behind his eyes.

“No,” Nana replied, shaking her head. “She never was. But with you… even though I hate to admit it… she’s safer now than she’s ever been.”

Viktor stood up slowly, towering and lethal, like war wrapped in a man’s body.

“She won’t be hidden anymore,” he said coldly. “I’ll make sure Marco never touches her. Never breathes near her. Whatever deal they signed—whatever blood oath they sealed—I’ll erase it.”

His eyes turned to steel. “If it’s war Marco wants, I’ll give it to him. But he’ll never have her.”

And with that, Viktor turned and began to walk out, his presence like a storm ripping through the quiet house. Mikhail followed behind him, but not before glancing back at Nana—his expression full of understanding and something that looked like pity.

Nana remained seated, heart pounding in her chest, knowing full well what she’d just unleashed.

Because Viktor wasn’t just angry.

He was obsessed.

And a man like that?

He wouldn’t stop until Xena belonged to no one else… but him.

\~~~

Viktor stormed out of the house, his mind racing with fury and purpose. The moment his feet hit the pavement, his phone was already in his hand, his thumb gliding across the screen as he sent a string of coded messages. His black car sat like a beast waiting to be unleashed, and without missing a beat, he got in.

Mikhail slid into the passenger seat, glancing sideways at his boss whose jaw was clenched and knuckles white against the steering wheel. The engine roared to life.

"So… what do you plan to do now?" Mikhail asked, his tone cautious, knowing better than to prod when Viktor was in this state—but also knowing he had to.

Viktor’s eyes stayed locked on the road ahead, dark and stormy. “First, we dig out where Xena’s parents are hiding.”

Mikhail blinked. “You think they’re still alive?”

“I *know* they are.” Viktor’s voice was a low growl. “You don’t fake your death, leave your daughter behind, and not stay somewhere close. Watching. Waiting.”

Mikhail leaned back. “We could’ve just asked Nana.”

Viktor shook his head once, slow and firm. “No. If they’ve gone this long hiding from Marco and the underworld, then they’ve covered every single trace. Nana’s only been used as a shield. A buffer. She won’t know anything that could actually give them away.”

Mikhail raised a brow. “Then how do we find ghosts?”

Viktor’s lips twitched into something between a smirk and a snarl. “We start with the only thing that doesn’t lie—money. Their company. Transactions. Paper trails. No matter how clean people think they are, there's always a footprint.”

“And if we find them?” Mikhail asked, his tone dipping low.

Viktor’s gaze darkened as he pressed down on the gas, the car surging forward like a bullet through the night.

“If we find them,” he said, “they’re going to tell me *everything* Marco planned. And then… we destroy him.”

The tires screeched as he made a sharp turn, merging onto the freeway like a man with vengeance burned into his blood.

He wasn’t just going to protect Xena anymore.

He was going to *own* every piece of her story—rewrite it if he had to.

And Marco?

Marco had just moved to the top of Viktor’s kill list.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Meanwhile, back in Mexico…

Xena collapsed onto the bed with a tired groan, her limbs sprawled out as she caught her breath. She had tried on what felt like every piece of clothing Anya had thrown her way for their impromptu club night, and now, she was running out of patience.

"Can we please relax for a second?" she muttered, wiping her forehead dramatically. "I’ve literally lost count of how many clothes I’ve tried on."

Anya rolled her eyes with a playful scoff, her hands already rummaging through the last pile of dresses. "Stop being dramatic," she teased, pulling out a short, silky red satin dress and holding it up like a prized possession. Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. "Okay, this is *the* one."

Xena lifted her head slowly, squinting at the dress. She frowned. “That’s what you said about the last ten.”

"And I meant it every time," Anya grinned. "But this one—this is different. Trust me. Last one, I swear."

Xena sighed deeply, dragging herself off the bed and snatching the dress. “You better be right,” she grumbled as she padded toward the walk-in closet.

Anya sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing at the closet door. When Xena finally stepped out, her casual posture dropped immediately, and her eyes widened in shock.

The red satin clung to Xena like second skin, ending mid-thigh with a soft shimmer. It hugged every curve, dipping just enough at the front to tease her cleavage without overdoing it. But the back—oh, the back—was scandalously low, stopping just above the curve of her waist, leaving her entire back bare.

Anya’s jaw dropped. "Oh. My. God," she whispered, slowly standing up. “Turn around.”

Xena gave her a deadpan look but did as told, spinning slowly.

Anya let out a whistle. "Girl… you’re going to leave men unconscious on that dance floor."

Xena turned back around with a bored expression. “It’s *too* much. I am not wearing this.”

But Anya wasn’t listening—she had already pulled out her phone and snapped a photo.

Xena's eyes widened. “Wait—did you just take a picture?!”

“Relax,” Anya smirked, lifting her phone for another shot. “You’re safe with me.”

Xena narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Why are you taking pictures?”

“No reason,” Anya said far too quickly. “Just… you look hot.”

“I’m not wearing this,” Xena said firmly, folding her arms. “It’s too revealing. I look like a walking invitation.”

Anya wiggled her brows. “Exactly the point.”

Xena glared. “I said *no.*”

But Anya only smirked wider, typing something quickly on her phone.

Xena took a step forward, her voice rising. “Anya. What did you just do?”

Anya looked up, innocent as ever. “Nothing.”

But her sly smile said otherwise… and Xena had a terrible feeling that this night was only just beginning.