He sighed. “I’ll send you everything we’ve got.”
The call ended. I stood there, holding the phone, staring at that photo until my hands shook.
She looked so normal. Like she had escaped the hell we came from.
And here I was—covered in blood, lies, and weapons—thinking about showing up in her life like some fucked-up ghost from the past.
Rothman was right. Barging into her life would be selfish—dumping a lifetime of horror on her doorstep just to ease my own damn soul. But still… didn’t she deserve the truth? Didn’t she have a right to know where she came from? Who left her behind?
No. That was bullshit. She was fine. Safe. She’d built a life. And that should’ve been enough for me. But it wasn’t. I knew the truth wasn’t for her. It was for me. For the boy who never stopped blaming himself. For the man who couldn’t find peace without facing her.
Even if it broke her heart.
Even if it shattered what was left of mine.
That meant the clock had started ticking.
I couldn’t afford to leave anything unfinished.
This wasn’t just about destroying Pakhan. It was about burning the entire trafficking network to the ground.
As his right hand, I had access to everything—shipment routes, names of drivers, the brokers who kept things moving, the warehouses, the handoff points, even the forged cargo manifests and inspection papers used to make the containers look legitimate at port checks. It was all right there in front of me.
I didn’t rush in like some bloodthirsty lunatic—though, God knows, I had the urge. No, I played it smart.
The first to go were the ones who enjoyed it. The men who laughed about the kids. Who called them cargo. Who treated them like meat.
I ended them quietly and left their bodies arranged like bad luck—crashed cars, botched deals, the usual excuses. Pakhan called it a rough season.
But eventually, he got suspicious.
And who did he send to investigate?
Me.
Naturally, I took the role seriously—by killing even more of them.
I wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Not even a little.
By the time suspicion started circling, I was already hand-picking allies. Carefully building my little insurrection onecracked conscience at a time. I tested which men had hearts still beating in their chests and which ones were just empty husks wearing human skin. I didn’t want men like me. I wanted men who still believed they could be good.Some joined. Some resisted. The ones who resisted didn’t get the chance to reconsider.
I was building a team. Quietly. From inside his own fucking house.
And every day, I got closer to the night I would end him.
Icouldn’t believe how smoothly everything was going.
For once, nothing was breaking. Nothing was slipping through my fingers. Even sleeping beside her felt… peaceful.
Life—usually so eager to fuck me over—was almost generous. Every piece was falling into place exactly where I needed it.
Which should have been my first warning.
Because nothing ever stayed perfect for long.
It broke at dinner.
The long table stretched between us, same as always—too much crystal, too much food, too many watchful eyes. Kira sat directly opposite me, quiet and dangerous in that way that always fucked with my head. Under the table her bare leg brushed mine, toes sliding slow and deliberate up my calf, teasing, pressing, driving me insane while she calmly sipped her wine. When the others looked away she gave me a small, wickedsmile that made the entire room disappear. Just her. Just me. Just the growing ache to get her out of here and remind her who she was teasing.
