I glanced between them once before answering.
“Because I keep getting in his way.”
The words settled into the room, heavier than I intended.
“Every time he’s made a move on you,” I continued, my gaze locking onto Atlas now, “I’ve been there.Not for him—for something else entirely.But it didn’t matter.My presence alone was enough to derail it.”
Atlas didn’t interrupt.But I saw it—the subtle tightening in his shoulders, the way his attention narrowed like he was recalculating everything he thought he understood.
“Operations collapsed.Opportunities disappeared.Men pulled back before they could finish the job,” I went on.“Not because of you.”
A beat.
“But because of me.”
Raze’s jaw flexed.
“And now?”he prompted.
“And now he’s adjusted,” I said.“He’s not aiming for you first anymore.He’s aiming for me.Because if he removes me from the equation?—”
“You’re no longer in the way,” Atlas finished quietly.
I gave a slight nod.
“He gets a clean shot at you.”
Silence followed.Then Atlas straightened slowly, his fingers tapping once against the edge of the desk before going still again.
“Why not just kill us both, then?”he asked.
It wasn’t dismissive.It was logical.
I drew in a slow breath.This was the part I’d avoided.For years.
In Italy, I wasn’t who I had been born as.
Here, I was Archie Popovich—the Russian who’d drifted in, useful enough to keep, quiet enough not to question too deeply.I hadn’t corrected assumptions.I hadn’t offered more than what was necessary.
I kept a relatively low profile.Controlled.Intentional.Because the truth—the truth had weight.But there was no way to explain this without it.No way to make them understand why a man like Vilevski would hesitate—unless they knew exactly what he was hesitating over.
I exhaled slowly.My gaze dipped to the table for a second—just long enough to steady it—then lifted again.
Atlas and Raze were both watching me with a heightened sense of curiosity.Waiting.This wasn’t just another conversation to get through.
“Vilevski knows exactly who I am,” I said.
The room tightened around my words, with no way to soften the truth.
Raze’s head tilted slightly, like he was trying to line the words up with something that didn’t quite fit.Atlas didn’t move at all, but I saw the shift in his eyes—sharp, immediate, cutting through whatever he thought he knew.
“And he knows,” I added, keeping my voice level, “that if he pulls the trigger on me… it won’t end with me.”
That was when it hit them.Their eyes met for half a second.Quick.Controlled.A silent exchange that didn’t need words.Then they were both looking at me again.Like they’d just realized they’d been sitting across from an unknown variable this whole time.
Something they hadn’t accounted for.
Atlas took a seat and leaned forward slightly, forearms braced against his knees.He was focused, studying me like I was a problem he hadn’t solved yet.
