Chapter 82

Chapter 82
Ashes of the past.

Damian stared at the black and white satellite image flickering on the screen. It showed a remote estate nestled deep within the Carpatbian Mountains. A fortress of stone and silence, half-shrouded in mist. 
The last known location of Tatiana Sokolov, heir to the fractured Sokolov empire. 
And bait in Lucian’s latest game.
Lucian had made his move, bold, brutal, and precise. 
Three Cross informants dead in twenty-four hours. A coded message burned across the dark web in Latin:
“Frater, redii. Tua mors erit iusta.” 
“Brother, I’ve returned. Your death will be just.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Track every exit route,” he ordered. 
Matteo zoomed in on us. “We’ve confirmed Tatiana’s location inside. She’s under heavy guard. Drones captured thermal movement of at least thirty men, six ex-Spetsnaz. Lucian made sure we’d known.”
“He wants us to come,” Damian muttered. 
“He wants you to come,” Elena added darkly.
A slow pulse throbbed behind Damian’s temples. The betrayal hasn’t settled. Lucian his brother, his shadow, his other half had faked his death and built an empire behind Damian’s back. 
For what? Revenge? Power?
Damian turned away from the screen, toward me, I stood by the edge of the table, arms folded, unreadable. 
“You don’t have to come,” he said quietly. 
I raised my chin. “You’re not going in there without someone watching your back.”
I wasn’t the same fragile woman who’d stumbled into his life. That softness has been tempered into resolve. Pain always has a way of burning weakness into strength. 
“Then we move at dawn,” Damian said, glancing back at the screen. “We capture Tatiana alive. If Lucian wants him, then he’s leverage. And if he’s bait, we spring the trap.”
Matteo exchanged a look with Elena. “And if we fail?”
Damian’s eyes darkened. “We don’t.”
The mountains were cruel and quiet.
Damian crouched beside a jagged rock ledge, scanning the ridge through night vision goggles. The air was thin and biting cold. Below, the estate flickered with warm lights and armed shadows. 
Our team split into two units; one breaching the rear through the old servant tunnels; and the other led by Damian and me. We were ready to strike through the front loud and fast. 
The element of surprise belongs to no one anymore. Lucian had made sure of that.
“You’re sure he’s in there?” I whispered, glancing down the hill.
“Yes,” Damian replied. “The question is how long until Lucian shows up to collect him.”
He lowered the googles. “Let’s move.”
We descended the slope in silence, weaving through the trees. Damian’s pulse slowed, sharpened. Violence comes naturally to him now like breathing. 
But tonight isn’t just another mission. Tonight’s a reckoning. 
As we approached the iron gates, I pulled out a silenced pistol. Damian gave me a nod, then kicked the gate open. 
Gunfire erupted instantly.
Four guards down in seconds. 
We pushed through the courtyard as alarms wailed, our team flanking the side corridors. Inside, the estate was a labyrinth of marble halls and shattered opulence.
Blood smeared against white walls. Sokolov’s men fought with desperation, but they weren’t ready for Damian’s trained soldiers. 
I followed Damian down the corridor to a steel-reinforced panic room.
Tatiana was inside. 
Matteo’s voice crackled over comms; “Two minutes until breach.”
But it was already too late. 
The explosion tore through the hallway behind us. Stone and flame swallowed the entrance. 
I was thrown against the wall. Damian hits the floor, ears ringing. 
And through the smoke…walked Lucian. 
Alive. Smiling. And holding a detonator in his hand. 
Lucian was dressed in black from neck to boots, like a priest officiating his own war. His hair was cropped short, his face hardened, every angle sharp with age and malice. The soft voice that followed was unmistakable, refined, and cool. 
“I warned you, brother. You should’ve stayed out of this.”
Damian rose slowly, blood trickling from his temple.
“So this is it? You burn down the world just to prove you can?”
Lucian clicked the detonator again. Another wing of the estate collapsed behind him. 
“No, no,” he said with mock sadness. “I burned it because you tried to keep it from me.”
I coughed behind Damian, pulling myself up right. My eyes locked on Lucian. 
“I trusted you,” I hissed. 
Lucian’s smile faltered. “So did I. With my life. But you both chose loyalty to each other over me.”
He stepped closer. 
“And now, I’ve made new friends. Sokolov’s heir was never the goal, just the beginning. He was baiting for you, brother.”
“Why?” Damian snapped. 
Lucian’s eyes darkened. “Because I want what was stolen from me. Our father’s empire. His legacy. You took it. You made yourself king.”
“You were dead.”
“I made myself dead. I had to. To become what I am now.”
Damian reached for his weapon. 
Lucian’s guards stepped forward, rifles raised. 
“I wouldn’t,” Lucian warned. “You’re outgunned.”
“And yet you came yourself,” Damian muttered. “Why? Ego?”
Lucian smirked. “Because I wanted to look you in the eyes when I buried you.”
He turned and began to walk away.
“Kill them both,” he ordered. 
The gunfire lit up the corridor, but by then, Damian and I had already dived behind cover, returning fire. 
This wasn’t over. 
This was just the beginning. 
Blood painted the walls. Damian’s knife cut through one attacker’s throat as I fired two clean shots into another’s chest. The corridors echoed with gunfire and screams. 
Matteo’s voice cut through comms; “Explosion blocked the rear tunnel. We’re trying to flank from the west!”
“We need to extract Sokolov’s heir before Lucian takes her,” Damian barked back. 
But the panic room had emptied. 
I cursed. “He already got him.”
We moved through the burning hallway, smoke rising, bodies strewn across the marble floor. Every step was a race against the inevitable. Lucian was already two moves ahead. He hadn’t come to fight. He’d come to win and disappear. 
Again.
At the loading dock, we found the remnants of a convoy, bulletproof SUVs, burned tires, and blood trails. 
Lucian was gone. 
So was Tatiana. 
Damian stood in the wreckage, chest heaving, fury pulsing beneath his skin like magma. Every instinct in his scream was vengeance. But he knew this was the place. 
Lucian had taken Tatiana for a reason, and it wasn’t random. 
“Why him?” I asked, voice hoarse. 
Damian’s hands curled into fists. “Because Sokolov’s blood is currency. His name carries weight in the eastern underworld. With him, Lucian consolidates the entire Black Sea cartel.”
“He’s building an empire.”
“He’s building a war machine.”
And if Damian doesn’t stop him, there will be no Cross legacy left to defend. 
Only ashes. 
Back in Milan, Damian stood before the map of Europe, red markers crawling like rot across the eastern corridors. Supply chains. Gun routes. Laundering centers. All compromised. All touched by Lucian’s hands. 
The bastard was everywhere.
“He wants to erase you,” Elena said. “Not just kill replace.”
Damian didn’t respond. He stared at the center of the board. A black circle around Moldova, the new stronghold of Lucian’s empire. 
Matteo stepped in, grim. “We lost two shipments last night. Lucian’s not just attacking us. He’s offering our suppliers better deals. He’s bleeding us from inside.”
“And what about Sokolov’s heir?” I asked. 
“He’s already being used,” Damian said. “Lucian will parade her to steal alliances. Pretend he’s backing Tatiana, but really, he’s building a puppet kingdom. And when he’s done, he’ll slit Tatiana’s throat and steal the crown.”
My hand curled into his. 
Damian looked away from the map. “I need to end this.”
“How?” 
He finally turned. 
“By doing one thing Lucian never expects.”
“Which is?”
Damian’s eyes gleamed cold.
“Betrayal.”