“How dare you.” The words come low and vicious through clenched teeth.
No one moves. No one breathes.
The blade presses harder against the underside of his throat, drawing a bead of blood while his pulse beats directly against the steel.
“You come into my city,” I continue, “you send men after what belongs tome, and then you speak like you’re entitled to it?”
One of Enzo’s guards takes half a step forward before Viktor quickly redirects his pistol toward the center of the man’s forehead.
“Don’t,” Viktor says coldly.
Enzo remains pinned beneath me without resistance. There’s no panic on his face, only a hint of fear in his eyes. If anything, he looks mildly interested in the reaction, and that expression drives another wave of fury through me because I realize exactly what he believes.
He thinks he won, not because of the routes or the ports, but because he finally got a reaction out of me.
“There he is,” Enzo murmurs.
I press the knife harder.
“You think this entertains me?”
“No.” His breathing remains even despite the steel against his throat. “I think she matters more than you intended.”
Luka steps closer carefully, his voice at a level that most people would mistake for calm. “Alexei.”
I ignore him.
Enzo’s mouth curves despite the blood beginning to bead beneath the blade. That tiny expression nearly pushes me over the edge because I understand exactly what he came here to accomplish.
Not negotiation, but confirmation.
“You should kill me now if you intend to,” Enzo says quietly.
The knife digs deep enough for a thin line of blood to slide along his throat.
Viktor’s jaw tightens visibly near the windows.
Luka’s voice hardens another degree. “Alexei.”
I finally glance toward him. Just briefly. But briefly is enough. Enough for reason to force its way back through the violence threatening to consume the room.
Killing Enzo here starts a war before Roman finishes identifying who is actually behind these attacks. It draws law enforcement attention toward Black Tide Logistics. It confirms every weakness Enzo hoped to expose during this meeting.
Worst of all, it drags Maggie deeper into a world she never asked to enter.
Slowly, I remove the knife from Enzo’s throat.
No one lowers their weapons.
I release the front of his suit and step backward while he rises from the table with infuriating composure, adjusting the collar of his jacket as though we merely disagreed over contract terms instead of nearly spilling blood across a restaurant table.
A drop of blood slides slowly down his neck. He wipes it away with his thumb.
“No hard feelings,” he says lightly.
Viktor looks prepared to shoot him anyway.
Honestly, I might have allowed it if Luka hadn’t stepped partially between us first, creating enough interruption to force distance back into the room before instinct overrides logic again.
