No reaction. No shock. No anger worth watching.
His mouth twitches. “That’s all you’ve got. That’s it? Nothing?”
“You want theatrics,” I say. “You should’ve betrayed someone more sentimental.”
His eyes flash. “You’re proving my point.”
“And you’re stalling.” I lean one hand on the back of his chair and look down at him. “You’re making it look like the Vieri family is going against the Five Families.”
His expression changes because I’ve landed exactly on it.
“You always loved the theatre of a war,” I continue. “A king besieged. A fractured alliance. The Five Families turning on each other from the inside. That’s the kind of mess that makes ambitious men think they can rise in the chaos.”
Lucien’s lips part slightly.
“That shipment,” I say, “the one hit near Ryazan, the one staged to smell like Vieri fingerprints, was your signature, not mine.”
For the first time, something like real fear flickers in him. He tries to cover it and fails.
“Say it,” I tell him softly.
Lucien’s jaw tightens. Then he spits it out like poison. “Yes.”
My pulse remains steady, and I nod once. “Good. Now tell me why.”
His eyes lift to mine with a kind of hatred that used to scare people when we were younger, because they mistook it for conviction rather than envy.
“Because you’re wasting the throne,” he says. “Because you don’t deserve the title you wear, and you’ve been walking around with half a heart missing and pretending no one could see it. Because I wanted to prove that the King of the Five Families can be bled like any other man.”
I study him. “So, you tried to start a war.”
“I tried to start a correction,” he snaps.
“That’s a romantic way to describe treason.”
Lucien’s breathing is hard now, shallow with adrenaline, as if confession has emboldened him rather than broke him. “You’re not a capable leader,” he says again, clinging to the insult like a life raft. “If you were, you would’ve noticed years ago. You would’ve seen what everyone sees. You would’ve—”
I move fast enough that the rest of his sentence dies in his mouth.
One hand clamps around his jaw, forcing his face toward mine. The other grips the back of his chair, and I lean in close enough for him to feel exactly how calm I still am.
“Let’s be clear,” I say. “You didn’t get away with this because I’m incapable. You got away with it because you were family,and I allowed myself the luxury of trust with you. That was my mistake, and it will not happen again.”
His eyes dart, trapped and furious. I release his jaw and step back, letting him breathe.
“Now, we’re going to discuss names. Contacts. Payment routes. Every message you sent. Every lie you planted. Every person you used. And when we’re done, you’re going to tell me exactly how you thought this ended.”
Lucien’s laugh is breathy. “Or what?”
I straighten. “Or your family stops breathing along with you.”
He swallows. “You won’t kill family.”
I almost smile. “Try me, cousin.”
Lucien’s shoulders sag slightly, and now he finally looks less like a defiant traitor and more like a man who has realized the story he wrote ends the same way betrayal always ends.
“It wasn’t just me,” he says quietly. “Some of your council benefited. Some of the old men who smile at you and call you King and then go home and complain you’re too cold to be human.”
