By midnight, Fadir’s remaining network is in freefall.
I stand in the same empty warehouse hours later, the lights now dimmed to a low glow. Tikhon has joined me, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the concrete as he surveys the space.
“He really thought stealing one truck would change anything.” Tikhon rumbles, voice thick with disdain. “Amateur.”
“He wanted a win. We gave him one. Then we took everything else.” I allow myself a cold smile.
My phone buzzes. Andrei’s update:
All accounts locked. Three more allies defected. His name is poison in every major circle. He’s isolated.
Perfect.
The remainder of Fadir’s last stand has come hard and fast, but it is already over. He has ambushed the shipment, thinking it will be a meaningful blow. Instead, it becomes the final mistake that seals his fate.
I let him believe he’s won for those critical hours.
Then I cut every escape route with surgical precision.
Accounts frozen. Remaining allies flipped or eliminated from the game. His name was dragged through the mud in every circle that once feared him. The man who once tried to muscle into Sokolov territory, who targeted Katya, who tried to trapAnja and claim her as property, has now been reduced to a ghost, broken and isolated. His reputation is in tatters.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and turn toward the exit, Tikhon falling into step beside me.
“Anja?” he asks quietly.
“Safe at the compound. She doesn’t need to know the details of this one. Not yet.”
“You’ve changed, brother. The patient one is still here… but there’s fire now.” Tikhon nods once, understanding.
I don’t deny it. The pregnancy has shifted everything. My quiet patience now carries a deeply personal edge. Every move against Fadir is filtered through one overriding imperative. Nothing and no one will touch Anja or our unborn child.
As we step out into the cool night air, I allow myself one final thought of the man who started this war.
Fadir has made his last stand.
And he has lost everything.
Now it is time to go home to the woman carrying my future—the one person who has made this war mean something far greater than revenge.
***
I drive back through the iron gates well after midnight, the estate lights casting long shadows across the stone driveway. The main house is mostly overcast, but I can see the warm glow coming from our wing.
She is still up. Of course she is.
When I step inside, she meets me at the door.
She stands in the entryway in one of my soft button-down shirts that drapes over her growing belly, her long black hair loose with those auburn highlights catching the low light. Her eyes search mine immediately, scanning for any sign of injury, any trace of blood or exhaustion that might mean the night has gone wrong. The relief that floods her expression when she found none hit me harder than any victory tonight.
She crosses the distance between us without a word and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest. One of her hands rests protectively over her belly, as if shielding our child even while seeking comfort from me. I hold her close, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo and the warmth that is uniquely hers.
“You’re okay,” she whispers, voice muffled against my shirt. It isn’t a question. It is a quiet confirmation she needs to hear out loud.
“I’m okay,” I murmur, pressing a kiss on my cheek. My hand slides down to cover hers, resting over our child. A soft kick flutters against my palm. Our baby, strong and alive. The simple contact grounds me more than any tactical win ever could.
We stand like that for a long moment in the quiet entryway. The war with Fadir has consumed months of my focus. Tonight, the final pieces have fallen into place with surgical precision. His remaining accounts are frozen. His last loyal men have been flipped or quietly removed from the game.
His name has been dragged through every circle that once feared him, now whispered with contempt instead of respect. He has been reduced to a ghost: broke, isolated, his reputation in tatters. A pathetic skeleton of the man who once tried to muscle into Sokolov territory and use women as pawns.
