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The three of us make our way through the estate to the wing where Gregory had his private quarters. The rooms are well-appointed, reflecting the status Samuil gave him within the organization.

Samuil moves through the space methodically, checking drawers and closets. My father searches the desk while I examine the bookshelf, looking for anything hidden among the volumes. For several minutes, we find nothing unusual other than what we'd already found.

Then I notice something odd about one of the books on the lower shelf. It's slightly out of alignment with the others, pushed back just a fraction too far. I pull it out carefully and discover it's hollow, the pages cut away to create a hidden compartment.

Inside is a folded piece of paper, the edges worn as if it's been handled frequently. My hands shake slightly as I unfold it, revealing a rough sketch of the Galkin estate. The drawing is detailed and precise, showing the layout of the main building, the surrounding grounds, and specific locations marked with small symbols.

"Samuil," I call out quietly, my voice tight. "You need to see this."

He crosses the room in three long strides and takes the paper from my hands. His expression darkens as he studies the sketch, his jaw clenching tighter with each passing second. I watch as his eyes move over the marked locations, recognizing the significance of each one.

The library is circled in red ink, with a small notation beside it indicating the exact bookcase that collapsed on him. The symbol carved into the beam is drawn in the margin, perfectly replicated. Other locations are marked as well—entry points, security blind spots, places where someone could move through the estate undetected.

"He helped them," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Gregory didn't just pass information to them. He helped them plan the attempts on my life. He showed them exactly where to strike."

Samuil's hands tighten on the paper, crumpling the edges. The betrayal goes deeper than any of us imagined. Gregory hadn't just joined the secret organization that's been hunting my family for generations. He had actively helped them strike from inside the Galkin estate, using his intimate knowledge of Samuil's home to guide their attacks. The man Samuil raised, the man he trusted above almost everyone else, had been working to destroy him from within.

50

SAMUIL

Movement flickers across the security monitor in my peripheral vision. I freeze, my attention snapping to the screen showing the east wing corridor. A shadow passes through the frame, too deliberate to be a servant going about their duties at this hour.

Then another shadow. And another.

My hand moves to the gun at my waist as I lean closer to the monitors. The figures move with military precision, spreading through corridors they shouldn't know exist. Hidden passages that only someone intimately familiar with the estate's layout would recognize.

The alarm system screams to life, shattering the quiet. Red lights flash across every monitor as motion sensors trigger throughout the mansion. I'm already moving, shouting orders into my radio as I sprint toward the main living area where Ana and Ivan are reviewing documents.

"Lock down the estate! We're under attack!"

My captains respond immediately, their voices crackling through the radio with confirmations and position reports. But even as I run, I know something is wrong. The attackers are moving too efficiently, bypassing security checkpoints and avoiding guard rotations with impossible accuracy.

They have inside knowledge. They know exactly where to strike.

I burst into the living room just as the first gunshots echo through the halls. Ana's head snaps up, her eyes wide with fear. Ivan is already on his feet, moving to shield his daughter.

"Get them out of here!" I bark at the two guards stationed at the door. "Now!"

More gunfire erupts, closer this time. The coordinated assault is pushing deeper into the mansion with terrifying speed. My men are fighting back, but the attackers know our defensive positions, our fallback points, every tactical advantage we should have.

And then I see him.

Gregory emerges from a hidden passage in the west corridor, leading a group of masked figures through an entrance that only a handful of people know exists. He moves with confidence, directing the attackers with hand signals, pointing out defensive positions before my men can even take them.

The betrayal cuts deeper than any blade.

"Gregory!" My voice carries over the chaos, raw with fury and grief.

He turns, and for a moment our eyes meet across the distance. There's no surprise in his expression, no shame. Just cold determination and anger.

The estate erupts into full chaos. My captains shout orders, but Gregory anticipates every move. Shit, he's helped train half of them.

I take command, directing the men in a different strategy. We can't use moves that Gregory knows, not if we want any chance of coming out of this without being riddled with bullets.

The fighting pushes deeper into the mansion. Every time we establish a defensive position, Gregory redirects the attackers around it. Every time we try to flank them, he's already moved his people to counter.

Fuck this. I'm not going to let him tear apart everything I've built while hiding behind his soldiers. I deliberately break away from the main fighting, moving through a service corridor that will bring me around behind Gregory's position. If he knows the estate so well, then he'll know I'm coming. Good.