The fucking room reeked.
And I fucking didn't know why the hell I was sitting between morons when it should be my bullet and their empty heads.
I mindlessly played with the cane propped beside me like the useless crutch it was. My shades stayed on. Another loop hole. A lie I'd mastered. Lucius knew about my blindness, but the fact that he hadn't snitched, I was underestimating him.
Ignorance was their leash, and I held it tight in my fist.
The board members shuffled, suits rustled and uneasy eyes darted toward me, avoiding me, doubting me. Just how I liked it. Just not this time. I had places to be rather than here.
"Sir, we've run into... obstacles," one of them muttered in Russian-Gavril. He was balding, round-faced, and still managed to look like a smug little prick. He adjusted his tie as if that would save him from what came next.
"Obstacles?" My voice was calm. Too calm. "Obstacles are for children learning to walk, Gavril. Are you a child?"
His face paled. "No, sir. I-"
"Then walk."
The silence was heavy. It pressed down on every man in the room except me.
They were spineless cowards, all of them. Mouths too soft, ambition too weak. I'd chew them up and spit them out if it weren't for their usefulness.
Gavril swallowed hard like a fucking pussy in a whorehouse. He opened his mouth again, but I raised a hand.
"Don't." I sighed. "Don't embarrass yourself further by trying to explain failure. I don't want excuses, Gavril. I want results."
He nodded quickly, his head bobbed like a damn puppet on strings.
Fuck it.
I stood, letting the chair scrape back. The room seemed to shrink when I moved.
"The Morozovs have run unchecked for too long. Do you know what that tells me?" I let the question hang. No one dared to answer. "It tells me they think we're weak. That we're scared to push them off the ledge they're dangling from."
I took a slow step forward, my cane tapping against the floor. "And do you know what scares me more than that?" I paused, my lips curling into a cold, humourless smile. "That they might be right."
Every manwas too afraid to move, to breathe wrong.
"I don't tolerate weakness," I said. "Not from my enemies. And certainly not from my subordinates."
Subordinates, my ass. They were Morozovs bitches. It was mandatory of me to make them pass my message to the fucker.
The man seated closest to me shifted in his chair.
"Is there something you'd like to share, Maxim?" I asked, tilting my head.
He shook his head quickly, his face pale. "N-no, sir."
"No?" I raised an eyebrow. "Good. Because if you ever so much as breathe hesitation in my presence again, I'll remove you myself. Permanently. Understood?"
His nod was so quick it was almost pathetic.
The Morozovs were not untouchable. They were men and men bleed. Men did fall. And when they did, it was because someone stronger had kicked their fucking legs out from under them.
I stopped at the head of the table again and gripped the edge of the glass. "By this time next week, I want the Morozovs in chaos. I want Vlad fucking Morozov doubting his allies, his wife, his own fucking shadow. I want the media eating up every scrap of dirt you can dig up. Make them rabid. Make them relentless. When we're done, Morozov won't just fall. He'll beg to disappear."
I straightened, tapping the cane against the floor. "Dismissed."
The room emptied quickly, men filing out like mice fleeing a sinking ship.
When the last one left, I sat back down.
The Morozovs would fall. That was inevitable. What wasn't inevitable was what came next.
My little bird.
I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. Her face haunted me. Even in my fucking victories. Every time I thought I'd crushed her, she found a way to burrow deeper under my skin. She was a weakness I couldn't afford. A liability.
But she was mine.
That simple, fucked-up truth burned hotter than anything else.
I picked up the glass of whiskey on my desk, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip.
Power didn't come without cost. Obsession wasn't power. It was poison.
And still, I couldn't seem to let her go.
The whiskey burned as it went down, but not enough to drown the thoughts clawing at the edges of my damn sanity.
My little bird. Fragile, trembling, yet still so goddamn defiant. She had no idea how deeply she'd embedded herself into me. Like a shard of glass under the skin-small, sharp, impossible to ignore.
I hated her for it.
I hated the way her eyes, wide with fear, loitered in my mind longer than the smirk of a rival I'd just crushed. I hated the sound of her voice, the way it cracked when she begged. Not for mercy-no, that would have been too simple-but for freedom.
Freedom.
I laughed bitterly, swirling the glass in my hand. She didn't understand. There was no freedom. Not for me. Not for her. We were all trapped in this game, and I was the only one strong enough to call the shots.
My hand tightened around the glass, and for a moment, I imagined it was her neck. The thought should've satisfied me, but instead, it twisted in my gut.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
She wasn't pregnant. That should've been a relief. A clean slate. Another chance to put her in a box where she belonged-an object, a possession, something I could control.
But it wasn't relief. It was something darker.
I didn't want a child. I didn't need a child. Children were vulnerabilities, anchors to a world I'd long since detached myself from. They were distractions, unpredictable liabilities. And I'd learned the hard way that anything tied to me was doomed to be used as leverage.
My ptichka would have been different.
Not her. Not her child.
The thought curled through me like smoke, choking me. She would've tied herself to me irrevocably. She would've been mine in a way that no signature on a piece of paper or chains on her wrists could replicate.
Mine.
I slammed the glass down on the desk.
No. That was the poison speaking. The obsession. I didn't need her tied to me any more than she already was. I didn't need her at all.
Liar.
I clenched my jaw and pushed it down, burying it beneath layers of cold indifference.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I barked keeping my voice low and clipped.
Gavril entered, his shoulders stiff. He was a good soldier, I'd give him that, but he was also a fucking idiot when it came to timing.
"Sir," he began cautiously, "we've received word from one of our informants. Vlad Morozov has scheduled a private meeting with his key allies tomorrow night. It's happening at his estate."
My lips curled into a slow, predatory smile.
"Of course he has," I said, standing and straightening my suit. "A rat always runs to its nest when the walls start closing in."
Gavril hesitated, and I narrowed my eyes. "Spit it out."
"There's… chatter, sir. Morozov is making noise about your island mansion."
I chuckled. Of course, he was.
"Let him," I muttered.
Gavril nodded quickly, retreating with a mumbled nod.
As the door closed behind him, I turned back to my desk and the smile faded from my lips.
The Morozovs would fall. Vlad would bleed. My little bird would stay.
And me?
I'd keep playing the monster until there was nothing left of me to destroy.