2:00 AM. The silence of the room was shattered by the harsh vibration of Viktor's phone. The sound cut through the air like a blade. Viktor glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing as he saw his mother's name. He loosened his grip on Alia and sat up, answering the call.
His mother's voice, trembling and laced with panic, reached his ears. "Viktor? Are you awake, my son? Your father... his health has taken a sudden, sharp turn for the worse. The doctor is on his way, but it looks grave. He keeps asking for you."
Every muscle in Viktor's body coiled tight. The predatory haze in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by raw, focused anxiety. He surged off the bed, his movements sharp and decisive. Alia, though still deep in the fog of sleep, stirred at the sudden loss of his warmth and the tension in his voice.
Viktor's tone was clipped and hard. "Mother, stay calm. I'm leaving now. Tell the doctor to do everything he can, and tell Father I'm on my way—he is not to give up."
He hung up, the ruthless tyrant instantly shifting into a man of duty. There was no trace of the night's violence in his movements now, only a frantic, desperate energy. As he pulled on his clothes, his eyes flickered toward Alia, who lay motionless on the bed.
He leaned over her, pressing a quick, jarring kiss to her forehead a gesture devoid of affection, heavy with a hidden, suffocating vulnerability. "Stay here, Alia. My father is dying; I have to go. When I return, I will finish exactly what we started."
Viktor didn't waste another second. He strode out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor. Alia opened her eyes, listening to the fading sound of his departure. The contrast between his iron-fisted cruelty and the tremor of fear in his voice during that call began to weave a new, dangerous equation in her mind.
She sat up, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward the window, where the headlights of Viktor's car illuminated the darkness outside. Alia whispered into the silence: "Viktor, you once told me I was nothing but a puppet in your hands. But while you are occupied with your father tonight, I will be busy rewriting the rules of your empire." As Viktor reached the doorway, keys already in his hand, Alia followed him out, her voice steady and insistent. "I'm coming with you."
Viktor stopped dead in his tracks, turning to glare at her, his brows pulled together in a sharp line. "You? Why on earth would you come? This isn't a vacation, Alia."
Alia paused for a heartbeat, dropping her gaze as if seeking sympathy, then looked up at him, feigning a tremor of vulnerability. "Yes, I'm coming. It's the middle of the night, and I'm... I'm terrified to be alone in this huge house."
Viktor's twisted smirk returned, his gaze mocking as he stepped closer and gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Terrified? A woman like you who knows how to harbor such deep hatred, who has likely plotted how to discard a man without a blink you're afraid of an empty house? Look me in the eye and tell me that. You're not afraid of killing, yet you're afraid of the dark? Quite a performance."
Alia flinched internally as his sharp observation pierced through her pretense. But she quickly masked it with a wave of feigned annoyance. Shaking off his hand, she snapped, "Opps! Would you just shut up? Enough with the lectures. I'm going, not because I want to be your shadow, but because I don't want you crumbling under the pressure of your father's illness. Besides... staring at your brooding face is better than staring at empty walls."
Viktor stood silent for a moment, clearly caught off guard by her sheer audacity. The defiance seemed to intrigue him just as much as it annoyed him. He held her gaze for a long, heavy moment before letting out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "Fine. If you're that determined, so be it. Get ready, and fast. Don't test my patience tonight, Alia I'm not in the mood to coddle your whims."
Alia offered a faint, fleeting smile and turned to run toward her room to change. Deep within her mind, a dark, calculated plan began to take shape. Viktor still had no idea that the snake he thought he had crushed was now slithering right beside him in his car, on his journey, and in every move he would make from this point forward. Alia finished getting ready in a flurry of movement. She wore a stylish white top patterned with delicate, tiny floral prints, radiating a mix of simplicity and grace. Over it, she draped a pristine white fur coat to shield herself from the biting chill of the night. Standing before the mirror, she offered a faint, icy smile the fragile elegance of her appearance masked the lethal resolve hardening within her.
As she stepped out of the room, she carried a long, black fur coat for Viktor. He was standing by the door, impatiently checking his watch. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up; for a fleeting heartbeat, his gaze softened with a flicker of raw captivation at the sight of her, though it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Alia approached him and held out the black coat. Viktor paused, visibly surprised, but remained still as she stepped into his space. With deliberate, graceful movements, she draped the heavy garment over his shoulders and fastened the buttons.
The silence between them felt suffocatingly heavy. As Alia's hands smoothed the fabric, Viktor looked down at her, his eyes still dark with his usual cruelty, yet he seemed momentarily disarmed by her small, unexpected gesture of care.
Alia met his gaze, her voice infused with a chilling, calm authority: "Your father is important to you, Viktor. At least for tonight, try to set that ruthless side of yours aside."
Viktor offered a jagged, crooked smile. Reaching out to trace her jawline, he purred, "Are you teaching me how to behave? Or are you simply plotting a new move from behind this new mask of yours?"
Alia didn't answer; she merely exchanged a look of icy, inscrutable composure. She turned and walked toward the door, leaving him behind in a state of suspended, volatile tension. Viktor straightened the collar of his black coat and glanced into the mirror one last time he felt like a stranger to himself. Neither of them knew what chaos was waiting for them at the end of this night. The night was heavy with darkness, the highway obscured by the relentless deluge of rain. Viktor gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes fixed on the road, while his mind churned with chaotic thoughts. Beside him, Alia was lost in a deep, heavy slumber. Her head began to tip off the seat, threatening to fall, but Viktor's reflex was instant; he reached out with his free hand, catching her and pinning her securely against the seat with his muscular arm, even as he navigated the sharp turns with lethal precision.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of red and blue lights cut through the rain. A police barricade stood in the middle of the road, signaling them to stop.
Viktor cursed under his breath, slowing the vehicle to a halt. A police officer approached the window, his flashlight beam slicing through the interior. Viktor rolled down the window, his face a mask of cold, imperious authority.
The officer hesitated, his voice tentative. "Sir, out on these roads at this hour... I need to see your registration, and I'll need to inspect your trunk."
Viktor didn't reach for his papers. Instead, he locked eyes with the officer, his voice dripping with icy, razor-sharp disdain. "Officer, I am aware of your duties. But I have very little time. My father is fighting for his life, and my wife beside me is ill."
The officer faltered under the weight of Viktor's chilling intensity. Viktor kept one hand on the wheel while his other hand drifted toward the concealed weapon holstered beneath his jacket. He spoke in a low, resonant tone that vibrated with threat: "Do you really want to stop me right now? If you want trouble, I can assure you that I am not a man who backs down. My patience is wearing thin. Move aside my father's life is far more important than your petty inspection."
The officer, sensing the volcanic rage simmering behind Viktor's calm facade the look of a man who would burn the world to get where he needed to go stepped back, signaling for the barricade to be cleared.
Viktor put the car in gear with a dark, brooding expression. He glanced once more at Alia, who remained oblivious in her deep sleep. Viktor muttered to himself, "A good start, Alia. A lot is going to change tonight." The car pulled up to the imposing gates of Viktor's estate. The rain drummed a rhythmic, ominous beat against the metal. Usually, the guards were vigilant, but tonight, the gate swung open silently on its own no guards, no challenge. Viktor's brows furrowed; this was a sign of chaos, not order.
He drove inside, and the situation only worsened. The inner courtyard was lined with his personal security team. But they weren't greeting him. They stood in eerie, statue-like silence, their weapons drawn, eyes darting with a strange, paralyzed tension.
Viktor braked and turned to Alia, shaking her awake. His hand hovered over the weapon concealed beneath his coat. His voice was a low, dangerous warning: "Alia, wake up. Something is terribly wrong in here."
Alia blinked, the fog of sleep vanishing as she saw the line of guards. A sharp, calculated spark ignited in her eyes. She looked at Viktor with unnerving calmness. "Why are they standing like that? It looks less like a reception and more like they're waiting to trap us."
Viktor didn't reply. He stepped out of the car, the rain plastering his black fur coat to his frame, making him look like a dark, vengeful spirit. The head of his security team stepped forward, his face pale. Viktor didn't wait for an explanation; he barked, "What is this? Why was the gate unmanned? Where is my father?"
The guard hung his head, his voice strained. "Boss, the doctor is inside. But... it's critical. And someone else has entered the house."
Viktor's eyes turned into twin infernos of rage. He gestured for Alia to stay close and lunged past the line of guards, his hand firmly gripping his pistol. As Alia hurried behind him, her mind raced tonight wasn't just about his father's life; the battle for the throne of his empire had officially begun. Viktor rushed into the drawing room, his pistol still gripped tightly, his heart racing with the terror of his father's impending death. But as he reached the doorway, the pistol in his hand seemed to lose its weight, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
His father was sitting calmly on the sofa, a small tea table before him, casually eating his meal. There was not a trace of illness on his face. Viktor stood paralyzed, the world around him seemingly grinding to a halt.
Viktor's voice was a blend of shock and raw fury. "Father? What... what is this? Mother called me, saying you were fighting for your life, that the doctor had been called! And you're here... eating?"
His father calmly placed his spoon back onto the plate and looked at Viktor. There was no trace of guilt in his eyes—only a chilling, calculated stillness. He spoke in a steady voice: "Viktor, would a wolf ever crawl out of his den if he wasn't afraid? In your obsession with your modern-day empire, you've forgotten that this throne was forged by my hands."
Alia stood right beside Viktor, her eyes scanning every corner of the room. She realized instantly that this wasn't a medical emergency it was a deep-seated political trap designed to lure Viktor into a vulnerable position.
Viktor took a step forward, his voice rising into a roar. "You deceived me? Mother lied to me? Why? What was the point of this pathetic charade?"
His father rose from the sofa, his voice even deeper and more imposing than Viktor's. "The point was that you have become blind with the arrogance of your own power. You have forgotten that I wrote the rules of this underworld. I am tired of tolerating your premature displays of dominance. Tonight, I arranged this to teach you a lesson you will never forget."