As Alia turned to bid Zainkha farewell and walk away, an unusual restlessness gripped Viktor. He couldn't bear the thought of losing sight of her for even a single second.
Without a word, Viktor's powerful 6'5" frame surged forward. In one swift motion, he swept Alia into his arms, lifting her off the ground. Surprised, Alia rested her hands on his broad shoulders. He carried her to his iconic black Lamborghini and settled her into the passenger seat.
Viktor slid in beside her, pulling her close for a long, passionate lip kiss. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Viktor cupped Alia's flushed cheeks with his large hands, his eyes devoid of their usual cruelty, filled instead with a profound, raw longing.
In a voice thick with emotion, he began:
"Alia... I know I haven't always loved you the way you deserved. I've missed holding you like this... I missed holding your hand, embracing you, kissing you, just being near you. I missed truly being your husband. But since you entered my life, everything has changed. You taught me the meaning of love. You brought light into the void of my existence. I didn't just fall in love with you; I found myself in you, Alia."
As he spoke, a single tear escaped the eye of Russia's most feared Mafia Lord—the man who made the entire city tremble had completely broken down before her.
Alia gently wiped the tear away and placed a finger on his lips, whispering softly:
"Shhhh... it's okay, Viktor. You told me those exact words once before, while I was asleep in your arms. I heard everything; I remembered it all. My Mafia Lord... only I know how soft you truly are on the inside."
An enchanting silence filled the car. The dangers outside, the conspiracies of Zainkha and Margaret everything seemed insignificant in that moment. Alia realized that the monster known as Viktor Alexeyevich was now a permanent prisoner of her love.Viktor pressed a tender kiss onto Alia's hand, his eyes never leaving hers for a second. With one hand firmly interlocking with Alia's and the other on the steering wheel, he drove the Lamborghini through the dark streets of the city.
He held her hand with a possessive yet protective grip, as if letting go would mean losing his very soul. As the car sped up, the engine's roar echoed his inner resolve. Every few moments, he would glance at her, his icy blue eyes now burning with an unwavering vow.
"I will never let you out of my sight again, Alia," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "From this moment on, every breath I take and every step I make is for you. Anyone who dared to target you will be erased from existence."
Alia leaned back, feeling the warmth of his hand against hers. She knew that when Viktor drove like this one hand on the wheel and the other on her he was at his most dangerous and most devoted. Suddenly, Viktor's phone lit up. Seeing Zainkha's name on the screen, Viktor put it on speaker. Zainkha's gravelly voice came through, sounding somewhat hesitant:
"Viktor... Alia... I was lying. Margaret won't do anything to you. She's far too busy with her own empire and personal affairs. She isn't your enemy right now."
Alia and Viktor exchanged a sharp glance as Zainkha continued:
"The real threat isn't Margaret—it's the CIA. They are the ones desperate to eliminate you once and for all. I used Margaret as an excuse to shake you up, but I realized it's better you know the truth. The CIA is sending their best hitmen, and they are already closing in."
After hearing Zainkha's confession, Viktor's jaw tightened. He gripped the steering wheel even harder. Alia took the phone, her voice calm but ice-cold:
"I knew it, Zainkha. Margaret isn't stupid enough to pick a direct fight with Viktor. But I will end this dirty game the CIA is playing. If they want 'Shadow Queen 10', they'll get her—but it will be the last thing they ever see."
Zainkha gave one final warning, "Be careful, Viktor. They could strike at any moment."
Viktor cut the call, his hand squeezing Alia's even tighter. There was no more confusion; their enemy was identified. The black Lamborghini sped through the city's darkness, charging toward an inevitable war.Suddenly, four black SUVs screeched to a halt, blocking their path. The CIA had arrived.
Viktor and Alia stepped out of the car, standing side by side. Alia was in a white shirt, the bloodstains on it making her look like a lethal angel of death. Viktor stood tall in his black shirt, his 6'5" frame looming over the scene like a dark titan. The contrast of black and white between them radiated pure power.
As the agents surrounded them, their leader demanded Alia's surrender. Viktor calmly lit a cigarette, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "You've made a mistake," he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "You think you're here to catch a retired agent? No. You've just knocked on the gates of hell."
Alia rolled up her sleeves, gripping her gold revolver. "Viktor, should I handle this alone, or do you want some practice?"
Viktor flicked his cigarette. "I'll only finish those who dare to touch you. The rest are yours, my Queen."
The battle began in a heartbeat. Alia fought like a force of nature, her movements lethal and impossibly fast. She was on a deadly level, taking down agents with bone-crushing precision, her white shirt stained with fresh blood.
Viktor, however, remained perfectly calm. He was sitting against the car, a cigarette in one hand, watching her with a dark pride. Suddenly, one assassin broke away from the fight and lunged at Viktor from the side with a knife.
Without even standing up, Viktor moved with lightning speed. While keeping his cigarette steady in one hand, he caught the man's throat with his other hand. With a sickening crack, he snapped the man's neck and threw him to the ground like trash.
He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he looked at Alia. "Sorry, Alia. I didn't mean to interrupt your fun, but this mosquito got a bit too close." The game was over. Viktor crushed his cigarette under his boot, his icy eyes signaling the end. Within minutes, the remaining agents were neutralized.
Alia leaned against a nearby wall, her white shirt soaked with sweat and blood, clinging to her skin. Her hair was messy, but her eyes held the fire of a victor. The two of them stood there, staring at each other amidst the carnage—a silent conversation between two souls bound by blood and love.
Viktor stepped closer, feeling the frantic beat of her heart through her wet shirt. "Are you alright, Shadow Queen?" he murmured. "Or does your Mafia Lord need to do more?"
Alia tilted her head back against the wall, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm fine, Viktor. But before we head home in that black Lamborghini, I need a strong cup of coffee. This fight took everything out of me."
Viktor gently wiped a stray drop of blood from her cheek and swept her into his arms once more, carrying her toward the car with a tenderness only she would ever know.The main boss of the CIA called Alia with a direct order: "Come to America, we need to talk. But Viktor cannot come. If he sets foot here, it's an act of war."
Alia, with Viktor by her side, replied coldly, "You're calling because you're afraid. I'll come, but on my terms. And I go nowhere without Viktor."
Viktor's eyes flared with protective rage. "He wants to separate us, Alia. Do you really plan on going into that hell alone?"
Alia smirked, "They want a blast, Viktor. If I go to DC, it won't just be to talk—it will be to blow the roof off the CIA headquarters. But I'm not moving an inch without you."