Page 1 of The Hunter's Empire

Prologue

Ialways believe that when death finally finds me, it will find an old man sitting somewhere quiet, perhaps on the terrace of a house far away from the noise of the world I helped build, with silver in my hair and too many stories in my head and my son somewhere nearby pretending not to notice that age is beginning to win battles strength never could.

The image lives in my mind for so long that I mistake it for certainty.

I imagine him grown by then, taller than me perhaps, successful in whatever life he chooses for himself, laughing at my stubbornness while I complain about things that no longer matter, and I imagine reaching the end of my life the same way ordinary men do, with enough time to make peace with leaving and enough years behind me that departure feels less like theft and more like rest. I imagine dying with my son beside me.

I never imagine bleeding out beneath a dark sky while the man responsible stands close enough for me to see the familiar outline of his face, nor do I imagine that my final moments will belong not to old age but to betrayal and ambition and thekind of violence men like us spend our lives pretending we can control.

Perhaps this should not surprise me as much as it does. A man cannot spend his life building an empire on chaos and blood, and then act shocked when darkness eventually comes to collect what it is owed.

Men like me do not build lives that lead to peaceful endings, and somewhere deep down I think I always knew that, even as I convince myself that I will somehow be the exception, that I will survive long enough to keep my promises and protect the people waiting for me at home from the consequences of the choices I make. What arrogance that is.

Because if this ending belongs to anyone, it belongs to me.

My son will grow up in a world where his father simply stops coming home one day. And if there is any mercy left in this world, I hope he grows into kindness rather than anger, and I hope he learns how to love despite everything life is about to take from him.

Most of all, I hope he never allows my death to become the center of his life.

As the darkness slowly closes around me and the world begins slipping further away, I realize that for all the promises I made him throughout the years, there is only one that truly matters and only one that I fail to keep.

I promise my son that I will always come home to him. And for the first time since the day he was born, I know with absolute certainty that I am about to break that promise forever.

Chapter 1

Zora

"According to the last will and testament of Marcus Krogen, I now distribute the assets as follows…" Rasmund Vestergaard says in his steady, professional voice, the kind he’s used in this family for decades.

He sits at the head of the long conference table, papers spread neatly in front of him. I watch his face carefully because I need to stay in control of every emotion that tries to rise up inside me.

I sit between my brothers, Anton on my left and Keith on my right, our chairs pulled close like we are still the kids who used to face Dad’s lectures together.

Mikkel and Margrethe occupy the chairs directly across from us, and even though I try not to stare, it hits me again how much they look like Dad. The sharp jawline catches the light the way Dad's always did, and the intensity in their eyes makesyou feel as though they are constantly calculating their next move.

Leonora, Mikkel's wife, sits beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, offering silent reassurance. Behind us on the leather couch, Mikkel's son, Tobias, lounges beside Margrethe's son, Nikolaj, and his stepsister, Katya, like this is just another boring family meeting they have been dragged to. None of them says a word. They look half-asleep, scrolling on their phones or staring at the wall.

Rasmund continues without pause. "To my son Anton Krogen, I leave all of my nightclubs and casinos, including the associated real estate, licenses, and operational control in their entirety." Anton shifts slightly beside me but stays quiet. I feel the tension in his shoulder against mine.

Rasmund does not look up from the document. "To my son Keith Krogen, I leave the resorts and hotels, complete with all properties, staff contracts, and management rights as they stand today." Keith lets out a slow breath, but he does not interrupt either.

Rasmund’s voice stays even as he moves to the next paragraph. "To my daughter Zora Krogen, I leave the remainder of my holdings, which include the shipping and logistics divisions, the information control networks, and all related enterprises. This encompasses full authority over the integrated operations that support those core businesses."

I know exactly what that last part means. Shipping and logistics are not just boats and trucks. They are the veins that carry everything else Dad built. The smuggling routes, the trafficking channels, the money-laundering pipelines, the extortion networks that kept the empire running.

Dad just handed me the keys to the entire illegal machine, and he did it in front of the very people who helped him run parts of it for years. My stomach tightens, but I keep my face calm. I have to. Showing weakness right now would only give Mikkel and Margrethe something to use against me later.

Rasmund clears his throat once more. "Mikkel Krogen and Margrethe Krogen receive no direct assets or shares under the terms of this will."

The room goes dead silent for half a second. Then it explodes.

Margrethe shoots to her feet so fast her chair screeches across the floor.

"This is impossible!" She snaps. "Marcus would never leave us with nothing."

"We're his family." Mikkel adds, already standing. His face is turning the same angry red I remember from every argument he ever had with Dad. "Rasmund, this has to be a mistake."

"There is no mistake." Rasmund says calmly.