Page 56 of Never Distract a Biker

"Terms," I repeat, my mind racing. The plan—two decades of blood and shadow—teeters on the brink. All because of this single, maddening obstacle. My insides twist as I weigh the cost of compliance against the ruin of rebellion.

"Without honoring your part," they continue, "no strategy against Viktor can commence."

"Damn it." The curse slips out, an involuntary admission of my checkmate. I need control, and to steer the game back into my hands. But the pieces are in play, and the board is theirs.

"Fine," I yield, the word splintering inside me. Each syllable is a shard of the power I'm forced to concede. What choice do I have? None. Viktor is out there, a specter at the gates of my empire. If I don't act, if I don't agree, he could dismantle everything I've built.

"Good." The informant nods, their eyes never leaving mine. It's a silent reminder. They hold the cards now.

"Patience, Vovka," they reiterate, standing up. "All in good time."

"Time," I scoff, my breath fogging the air with the cold fire of my frustration. Patience has never been a virtue of mine. But it seems I must learn it now or lose more than just my temper.

"Indeed," they reply, stepping towards the door. "We await your next move."

"Understood," I growl as they exit, leaving me alone with the echo of my turbulent thoughts. I stand there, still as the statue of a forgotten god until resolve crystallizes within me. I'll play along—for now. Because when the time comes, Viktor will find out just how far I'm willing to go to win.

The door clicks shut behind them, sealing the deal—a deal forged in necessity, not trust. I clench my jaw, the muscle jumping with tension. This bargain, this game ... it's a razor's edge, and I'm the one balancing on it.

"Viktor," I mutter, promising retribution in every syllable. “You should have stayed dead.”

My back turns to the closed door, and my eyes close briefly. Fury boils within me, but beneath that heat lies cold, calculated dread. I've played this game too long not to know when the stakes are high. The implications of paying up claw at my insides—this isn't just money or weapons; it's power slipping through my fingers.

I open my eyes and fix on the spot where the informant stood moments ago. They must think they hold the reins, but even a puppet can sever strings. I never intended to honor our deal fully, but Viktor being alive ... that changes the board. Checkmate looms, and he's now the king I need to topple.

My clenched fist slams onto the desk, and the wood protests beneath my strength. No more delays. The urgency gnaws at me, demanding action, demanding blood.

"Failure isn't an option," I growl to the empty room. "Not for me. Never"

Plans unravel and reform in my mind, each thread a possibility, a pathway to Viktor. He's out there, breathing, plotting—surviving. But so am I. Survival is a game two can play, but only one can win.

25

Viktor

I sit at my desk, the faint glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across the polished surface. Lev and Zasha stand in their usual positions, like sentinels, their expressions unreadable but their body language taut. The room is silent, thick with anticipation as they wait for me to speak. My fingers drum softly against the wood, the rhythm the only sound, and even that seems to echo louder than usual. Scarlett's future weighs heavily on my mind, and the question of what comes next looms like a storm cloud over us all.

Lev is the first to break the silence, as he often does. His voice is direct, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“So, what’s the plan for Scarlett after the baby comes?” His gaze meets mine, steady and unflinching. “We can’t keep her in limbo forever. There has to be a clear path forward.”

His words settle heavily in the air, and I know he’s right. Scarlett deserves stability, and so do my unborn children.

Zasha steps forward slightly, his expression more concerned than confrontational.

“Co-parenting isn’t an option,” he says, his voice low but firm. “This isn’t just about her or you. They will always be a target if they’re not under your constant protection. Keeping them safe means they stay with you. Always.”

His loyalty is evident, and the earnestness in his tone tells me this is more than a tactical observation—it’s personal.

I nod slowly, letting their words sink in before leaning back in my chair. My decision is clear, and now it’s time to voice it.

“I’m going to marry her.” My tone is calm and unyielding.

Lev and Zasha exchange a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the magnitude of my decision. The weight of my words settles over the room like a heavy shroud.

Lev nods first, his expression softening slightly. “The futurepakhansha,” he says with a small smile, the term carrying both respect and finality.

The atmosphere shifts subtly. They understand what this means—not just for Scarlett, but for the Bratva as a whole.

---