Page 17 of Victor's Lethal Desire
Lucian leans back, nodding.
"So," he says, taking a sip, "tell me about it."
The question hangs between us, deceptively casual. But I know my brother. He's always looking for what's beneath the words spoken.
And by it, he means my little trip out to Constan?a.
"He's dead." I keep my voice flat, like I'm reporting facts. "Single shot to the head."
"Any complications?"
The image flashes in my mind. Her body pressed beneath mine, blonde hair and those cold blue eyes daring me to do something about it. The lamp shattering. Papers scattering. Her knee driving into my wound.
I smile. "None," I say, taking another sip. "It was an easy hit."
The lie slides out smooth as the whiskey burns down my throat. I've perfected this over years, the art of truth-adjacent fiction. Give them enough detail to satisfy curiosity, omit everything that matters.
Because if Lucian discovers the blonde Russian exists, he'll do what any competent don would do. He'll put a kill order on herhead. He'll mobilize our entire network, activate every asset we have, and she'll be dead within seventy-two hours.
And I refuse to let anyone else touch her.
Not Lucian's soldiers. Not Adrian's rage-fueled vendetta. Not Matei's cold efficiency.
She's mine.
Mine to hunt. Mine to catch. Mine to punish for the smile that haunts my thoughts when I close my eyes.
Lucian's gaze doesn't waver. "What about the hard drive? I saw the intel tip from our contact saying Bogdan kept records."
"The tip was a bust." I swirl the whiskey, watching it slide around my glass. "Either the drive never existed, or Bogdan destroyed it long before I arrived. I searched the office thoroughly."
Another lie, technically, but the rationalization forms quickly. I lost the drive, yes. She took it, vanished into the night with whatever evidence the Volkovs wanted buried. But I don't need it anymore.
Not after what I'm going to do next. Which admittedly is going to be a bit tricky as I won’t be able to use our main family network, because I don’t want my brother’s knowing.
Lucian nods slowly, processing, and I watch the gears turn behind his eyes.
"A shame," he finally says. "But Bogdan's death sends the necessary message, and I know how important it was for you to personally handle it. When you decide to tell Adrian about it, I'm sure he'll thank you."
"It had to be done," I say, taking a big sip.
Lucian stands, rounds the desk, and for a moment I see genuine warmth crack through his facade. He claps my shoulder, and the contact sends pain through my ribs.
“Yes. This was important. For Adrian. For Elena. For all of us."
I rise to meet him and clap his shoulder as well. The brotherhood we've forged through blood and violence, all while under our father's suffocating shadow, holds us together.
"So, now that that’s done, when are you shifting focus back to your political career?" Lucian asks, releasing my shoulder. "Your office called. They want to know when you're returning to make your move."
The smile I give him is genuine this time. Politics, the beautiful game of deception. I do miss it. How could I not? It enables me to be the respectable face of the Ionescu empire.
"Soon," I say. "Just need to tie up some loose ends first."
"Remember, Victor." Lucian's voice drops. "Everything we do moving forward, especially now with father gone, has to be family first. No personal vendettas. No solo operations. Nothing that put us at risk without discussion.”
“Like I always say, everything I do is for the family," I reply, meeting his eyes without flinching. "And it always will be."
The truth in that statement is absolute. Every manipulation, every kill, every political alliance I've brokered, all of it serves the Ionescu name.
