Chapter 81

Chapter 81
A Brother’s Knife.

The moment our boots touched the tarmac of Moscow, the air changed. 

Thicker. Heavier. Like it knew the devil and his queen had come home. 

I stepped beside him, wrapped in a long black coat that whipped around my legs like smoke. Behind us, Viktor barked commands to the escort team. Elias and Kaspar flanked the armored car waiting by the runway, their eyes sharper than usual. 

Something was wrong. I could feel it. So could Damian. 

“We go straight to the Bolshoy safe house,” Damian said, his voice low and clipped. “No detours. No delays. Lucian said he’d meet us there.”

My eyes narrowed. “You trust his words now?”

“No,” he answered, sliding into the SUV. “But I trust his need for control. He wants us on his terms. We’ll give him that until we take it back.”

The car sped up into the gray maze of Moscow streets, slicing through slush and sleet. I stared out the window, 

memories clawing their way up from my past, my father’s laughter in our dacha garden, the day I watched his coffin lowered into frozen soil. All of it…because of Sokolov.

And Lucian. 

Damian hasn’t spoken a word about the betrayal since Zurich. He didn’t need to. His silence was volcanic, an eruption waiting for the right crack in the earth. 

When we reached the safe house, a sleek black Sudan was already waiting outside.

Damian’s jaw clenched. “He’s here.”

I gripped the handle of my concealed pistol and followed Damian inside. 

The house was warm, too warm, like it had been expecting us. The lights glowed low, cast in long shadows against the walls. Every instinct screamed trap. 

And then we saw him. 

Lucian stood at the far end of the room, his back to the fireplace, a glass of vodka in hand. He was dressed in Black slacks and a gray turtleneck, clean-shaven, not a strand of hair out of place. The picture of unbothered elegance. 

But his eyes, those sharp, glacial eyes told a different story. 

They were watching. Calculating. Always three moves ahead. 

Damian stepped forward first. 

“No body. No ashes. Just a funeral photo and a forged death certificate,” he said coldly. “You really played your hand, didn’t you?”

Lucian raised his glass slightly in greeting. 

“You always said I was good at disappearing.”

“You should’ve stayed gone.”

Lucian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And miss this reunion?” 

I moved beside Damian, my eyes burning holes into Lucian. 

“You gave Sokolov my father,” I said, voice like broken glass.

Lucian’s expression didn’t flicker. “I gave Sokolov nothing. I merely…rerouted information. What he did with it wasn’t my concern.”

“You killed him.”

“No,” Lucian replied smoothly. “The bullet wasn’t mine. But the silence that followed? That was.”

Damian snapped forward like a whip, slamming Lucian back against the mantle. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t break your fucking neck.”

Lucian didn’t flinch. “Because you need me more than you think.”

Damian’s hand tightened around Lucian’s collar. 

“You think I need a traitor?”

Lucian’s smile widened. “I think you need someone who knows Sokolov better than you ever will.”

Damian released with a shove.

I stared at Lucian like he was some cursed relic pulled from a grave. 

“You were supposed to protect him,” I said bitterly. “You were my father’s friend. You were his liaison.”

“And he was a good man,” Lucian admitted. “Too good for the world we built.”

“You used him.”

“I survived,” Lucian countered. “While your father signed his death warrant with principles and loyalty. That’s not how empires survive, Claire. That’s how they fall.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “That’s how they are built.”

Lucian sighed and poured himself another drink. “You want revenge. I understand. You want Sokolov’s head. I can give it to you.”

Damian laughed bitterly. “You really think we’re that stupid?” 

Lucian’s voice dropped, icy and sharp. “He doesn’t trust me anymore either. I’m a liability to him now. That means I’m useful to you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s in for you?”

Lucian finally looked at me. 

“I want immunity.”

“You faked your death,” Damian growled. “You think I’ll grant you anything but a bullet?”

“I think you will… if I help you kill Sokolov’s heir,” Lucian said calmly.

Damian's eyes darkened. “Why would you help us? And why should we trust you?”

My pulse hammered. “What does that change?”

“Everything,” Lucian said. “Sokolov’s empire doesn’t die with him. It passes on. Unless you kill the heir, your war means nothing.”

He dropped a flash drive onto the table. “Coordinates. Intel. Surveillance. All yours. In exchange, you don’t kill me. Not yet.”

After Lucian left the room to take a secure call, silence fell. 

I paced by the window, my thoughts racing. 

“You believe him?” I asked Damian. 

“No,” he said. “But I believe his fear. He’s playing his own game now. And fear makes even the best liars honest.”

“He played you,” I said. “For years. He was your right hand.”

Damian’s jaw flexed. 

“He was like a brother,” he admitted. “We came up through the ashes together. I covered for him more times than I can count. I trusted him when I shouldn’t have.” 

“And now?”

“I don’t trust anyone but you.”

I turned. “That’s dangerous.”

“That’s the truth.”

He moved toward me, touching my face with gentle fingers.

“I will kill him,” he said. “But not yet. We use him first. Just like he used us.”

I nodded. “And if he betrays us again?”

Damian’s expression was pure steel. 

“Then I’ll end him myself.”

Later that night, I found Lucian alone in the study scanning blueprints. 

I stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You’ll never get your immunity.”

Lucian didn’t look up. “That’s up to Damian. Not you.”

I stepped forward. “You underestimate me.”

“I don’t. In fact, I think you’re the most dangerous person in this house.”

He finally looked at me. “That’s why I kept your name off the list. When I gave up your father, I made sure you were protected.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I said, voice trembling. “You did it to save yourself.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But also I saw who you would become. And I was right.”

I stared at him. “You’re not getting away again.”

Lucian tilted his head. “Then make sure the devil beside you doesn’t pull the trigger too soon. Because if he does…he’ll never find the heir.”

At midnight, Damian and I regrouped with Nikolai and the Moscow team in the war room. 

Kaspar placed the flash drive on the center screen and uploaded Lucian’s files.

“Confirmed,” Nikolai said. “The girl exists. Her name is Tatiana Orlova. Twenty-three. Kept in an estate under heavy surveillance. Trained like a soldier. Hidden like a secret.”

“If Sokolov falls and she lives, she inherits everything,” Damian muttered. “Blood empire stays alive.”

“Then we burn it all down,” I said. 

Lucian entered then, calm as ever. “I want in.”

“No,” Damian snapped. 

Lucian smirked. “You need me.”

“We’ll use you. Then we’ll bury you.”

Lucian simply shrugged. “That’s fair.”

As the final battle drew closer, I felt the shadows close in tighter.

The past’s no longer buried. It walks beside us now. 

In the shape of a traitor with familiar eyes.