BEATRICE'S POV
The black limo stops before a gothic mansion set deep in the countryside, far from the Manhattan skyline where billions change hands between coffee breaks. Pine trees line the approach like sentinels. The air smells different here — cold, damp, ancient. Like the earth remembers something violent.
This is the residence of the Pakhan.
Why am I here? Ludwig gave me a task. Prove your worth, he said. Earn your seat at the Laurent family's internal board. His wife — my new adopted mom, the woman who despises my existence — suggested the test:
Retrieve the Laurent family's stolen treasure from the Pakhan of Nochnye Kogti.
A pink diamond necklace. A vivid fancy pink stone in a gold setting — something Ludwig described with the particular reverence men reserve for objects worth more than most people's lives.
If I return with it, I get an official position in the family structure. If I don't, the adoption remains ceremonial. A name without teeth.
