KAIREN
The room was a blur of smoke and laughter and perfume.
Too bright, too polished, too fake.
Crystal chandeliers bled light over the long mahogany table, where half-drunk men bragged about stocks and syndicates while women with painted lips leaned close enough to make their diamonds sway. One was perched on Andrei's lap, feeding him something from a silver spoon while he barked a laugh loud enough to shake the glasses.
I sat among them, a puppet dressed in my father's suit, pretending I knew how to belong here.
The pills dulled everything, the music, the chatter, the heat but they made my head float, made the edges of the room stretch and twist. I could still taste the tequila burning the back of my throat.
"Come now, Kairen," Andrei boomed, raising his glass. "You're too stiff for a man your age. You should be smiling, drinking, touching."
He waved toward one of the dancers, a girl draped in red, her movements slow, deliberate, meant to make men forget their wives. I managed a weak smirk, the kind my father used when he was tired of being human.
"I'm fine," I said, reaching for my glass instead.
Andrei's grin widened. "You young ones, always thinking too much. You'll give yourself wrinkles before thirty."
The men laughed, the kind of laughter that made my skin crawl.
I tilted the glass, pretending the room wasn't spinning, pretending I didn't feel like a fraud sitting in my father's chair. Then the doors opened.
Aisha.
She moved through the room with quiet grace, her gown hugging her frame, hair swept into loose waves. There was a calmness about her that didn't fit this place, like she'd wandered into the wrong world and decided to own it anyway.
The men straightened instantly, their laughter turning to polite smiles. Even Andrei's tone softened as he rose slightly. "Aisha. Dimitri's little right hand. Always a pleasure."
"Mr. Volkov," she greeted with a courteous smile that could've cut glass.
Her eyes found mine, and for the first time all evening, I could breathe. She made her rounds effortlessly, engaging the men just long enough to distract them, complimenting a tie here, a deal there, until their attention drifted elsewhere.
Aisha slid into the empty seat beside me, her perfume replacing the stink of whiskey and cigar smoke.
I nearly sighed in relief.
"I could kiss you right now," I muttered under my breath.
She smiled faintly. "I saw your message."
"So you ignored me?"
"I was busy," she whispered, reaching for her drink. "Your father needed a few documents verified. Something about the port shipments."
I frowned. "Of course he did."
She sipped, then added casually, "I also saw Viktor waiting outside."
That earned a snicker from me. "Good. I'm finally free from that bastard's constant stare."
Aisha laughed softly, the sound warm enough to sting. "You almost sound like you enjoy his company."
I turned to glare at her. "I don't."
Her smirk said otherwise, but she let it go.
Movement caught my eye, Lena, rising gracefully from Andrei's side. She whispered something to him, pressed a hand against his shoulder, and slipped away. I watched her go, the slit of her gown glinting in the dim light.
Andrei leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Tell me, boy," he said, voice slurred just enough to be dangerous. "How does it feel, having your father's new toy shadowing you everywhere?"
My head jerked up. "Toy?"
He chuckled, flashing teeth too white to be real. "That fellow. Cold eyes. Military bearing. Your father's very own leash for his precious son. You don't actually think he's there to protect you, do you?"
A few of the men snorted, nodding like idiots.
My grip on the glass tightened. "He's just doing his job."
"Ah," Andrei hummed. "That's what they all say, before the leash tightens."
My mouth opened, ready to snap back, but I stopped myself.
I leaned closer to Aisha, lowering my voice. "What did you find on him?"
She set her glass down carefully. "Not much that wasn't buried deep. The man's a ghost. But I did dig up a few records from his military years."
That pulled my attention. "Go on."
Her eyes darkened. "He served under the Russian Special Operations Command. Not just any unit, an off-record task force for high-risk eliminations. One of their reports described a raid gone wrong near Rostov. Fifty insurgents. Only one survivor."
I swallowed. "Let me guess."
She nodded. "Viktor. They said when reinforcements arrived, he was still standing, two pistols empty, knife soaked, five magazines gone, every single hostile neutralized. The medics found him covered in blood that wasn't his. He refused treatment until the cleanup was finished."
The image clawed at the haze in my head. Viktor's calm voice. His steady eyes.
A man like that didn't need orders to kill.
"And that's just one file," Aisha continued quietly. "There are others. Black ops. Names erased. Missions unacknowledged. Whatever leash your father thinks he's holding? He's the one being walked."
I stared into my drink, pulse slow and uneven. "So no weaknesses?"
"None that I've found yet."
I muttered a curse under my breath, the word catching on my tongue. "Figures. He's impossible to get rid of."
Aisha tilted her head, studying me. "Maybe because he's not meant to be gotten rid of."
I didn't answer. I just downed the rest of my drink and tried not to think about the man waiting somewhere outside this room, smoking in silence.
The room was starting to close in on me.
Too much perfume, too much laughter, too many people pretending to enjoy each other's company. The music had softened, but it didn't help, the air was thick enough to choke on.
Aisha leaned closer, her voice a whisper against the rim of her glass. "You look like you're about to bolt."
"Maybe I am," I muttered.
Her lips twitched. "Then let's go. Get some air before you pass out on Volkov's priceless carpet."
I hesitated. "Viktor's waiting outside. He'll—"
She cut me off with a roll of her eyes. "You're not a child, Kai. You don't need permission to breathe."
I hated that she was right. And I hated that she used that tone, the same one my father did when he wanted something.
Still, the thought of staying in that room any longer made my skin itch. So I nodded, pushing my chair back and ignoring Andrei's booming laughter as he refilled someone's glass.
We slipped out through the velvet-draped archway, and the noise dulled behind us like someone had closed a curtain on the world. The hallway was long and dim, the marble floors reflecting the warm light from the wall sconces.
I braced myself for it, the cold stare, the quiet judgment, the inevitable lecture. Viktor never missed an opportunity to remind me how reckless I was.
But he wasn't there.
The spot by the door was empty. The air felt different somehow, still, but sharp, like the moment before a storm.
"Where the hell is he?" I muttered, scanning the corridor. "He never just disappears."
Aisha arched a brow. "Maybe he stepped away."
"Viktor doesn't step away," I said. "He lurks. It's his thing."
She sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "Come on. You need air. Stop obsessing over your babysitter."
I wanted to argue, but the walls felt too close, the gold too loud. So I followed.
We wound through a corridor lined with oil paintings and heavy curtains until the air shifted, cooler, cleaner. The doors opened into a courtyard bathed in moonlight. The night was quiet except for the faint hum of music bleeding through the windows and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, lit it, and took a drag. The first inhale burned, grounding me. The smoke curled up into the night sky, a thin ghost against the pale marble.
Aisha stood beside me for a moment, her gaze distant. Then she cursed softly under her breath.
"What?" I asked.
"I left my phone," she said, patting her pockets. "Inside, on the table. Damn it."
"Want me to—"
"No," she interrupted quickly. "I'll grab it. Stay here. You look like you need a minute anyway."
Before I could argue, she pressed her purse into my hands. "Hold that for me. I'll be right back."
I stared at the thing like it was a live grenade. "You're trusting me with this?"
She smirked. "Try not to blow it up."
And then she was gone, the click of her heels fading into the hall.
I leaned against the stone railing, dragging on my cigarette until the tip glowed bright in the dark. The night air was cool against my skin, a small mercy after the suffocating heat of the party.
For a while, I just watched the gardens, rows of trimmed hedges, marble statues, and fountains that looked too pristine to be real.
But my mind wouldn't stay still.
Where the hell was Viktor?
He never just disappeared. Not without telling me. Not without leaving some sign he was still watching.
The unease crawled up the back of my neck, slow and steady, until I had to shake my head just to clear it.
He was fine. Probably wandering off somewhere to brood and smoke in peace.
That's what I told myself.
But the quiet felt wrong.
Too empty.
And then,
Bang!