Page 102 of Reckless Obsession
Cold air cuts in first, then Viktor steps through as if he’s arriving at a dinner party rather than stepping into a metal box that smells of blood, fear, and bad decisions. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie, his dark, wavy hair a little longer than the last time I saw him, his face wearing that same easy, wicked amusement, as if the world exists solely to entertain him, and he has yet to be proven wrong.
As if summoned by the scent of violence and bad timing, He takes one sweeping look around the room and his mouth curves into a smile.
“Having fun without me, I see,” he says casually. “You guys seriously couldn’t wait two more hours for me to land?”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Of course this lunatic walks into a blood-soaked container like he’s fashionably late to an execution and somehow makes the room easier to breathe in.
“You’re insane,” Alex says from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded, mouth already fighting a smile he doesn’t want to give away for free.
“I know you missed me, Sasha,” Viktor replies, already moving toward him. He pulls him into a hug with the kind of physical confidence that makes it impossible to reject. Alex endures it for approximately two seconds before shoving him back.
“Get off me.”
“You’re so warm,” Viktor says, completely unbothered.
“I will end your life.”
“Promises, promises.” Viktor steps back and grins. “You know it’s okay to tell me you love me. We’re family, and this is a safe space.”
“Fuck off,” Alex mutters with a chuckle.
The two of them have always been stupidly close, more best friends than cousins at this point. Alex is the controlled one, all restraint and quiet intensity. Viktor is a natural disaster in human form, grinning through the wreckage. Somehow, ridiculously, they balance each other out.
Viktor turns toward Igor and me and spreads his arms.
“Hello, my favorite cousins.”
His eyes immediately land on Igor’s sunglasses, and then he grins. “Heard you got beat up like a motherfucker.”
Igor’s head turns slowly toward me.
I raise both hands in immediate, pre-emptive surrender. “I was just keeping him updated on the general situation.”
“The general situation,” Igor repeats.
“Informationally. As a service.”
“I’ll informationally put your head through that wall.” Igor snaps. “It was an equal fight.”
“Absolutely,” Viktor says, sounding profoundly unconvinced.
“It was.”
“Sure,” I say. “And I’m the Virgin Mary.”
Igor gives me a look that promises violence.
Viktor barks out a laugh and then moves toward Anton, pulling him into a brief hug. They slap each other’s backs once, then step apart.
“Congratulations on the new position,” Anton says in Russian, his tone quieter now, steadier. “I’m proud of you.”
Something flickers across Viktor’s face. It’s quick and genuine but gone before anyone can comment on it. He shrugs, rolling it off with the practiced ease of someone who’s had a lot of practice deflecting things that actually matter to him.
“It’s just a title.”
“It’s not just a title,” I say, giving him a look. “You’re now head of enforcement for the entire Petrov bratva Viktor. That’s not nothing. That’s a very big something wrapped in a terrifying amount of responsibility that should statistically alarm everyone who knows your personality.”
“Oh really?” Viktor says dryly.
