Page 135 of Savage King

"Antonio, I figured you'd be calling me," Grigori greets when he picks up. “Everything is booked for our friend."

"Good," I reply.

"Antonio, we're even now," Grigori checks.

We are. We both have leverage over the other. The scales of power have evened out, just like Grigori wanted. Nobody will ever find out that it was he who killed Angelo, and nobody will ever find out that I asked him to get rid of Carlos. Both secretscould get us killed in our world. Does that mean he's not going to try to kill me or I him? No, at least not yet.

"We're even. Let's discuss our new business deal," I suggest. It's the deal that will financially tie us together, ensuring that neither one of us will try to kill the other unless we're willing to sacrifice power and lose billions of dollars.

"I've got the training facilities all set up on my end," Grigori says. He's sent me images of the training facilities, and they're top-notch.

The first image is a drone shot—a wide view of a hundred acres of fenced land hemmed in by dense woods and hills. The perimeter is razor-wired, and motion-triggered floodlights monitor every hundred feet. Reinforced watchtowers stand a mile apart. The location is remote and isolated. It’s made impenetrable by allowing access only through one gate, guarded by a small army.

The next shot zeroes in on the main structure — a massive, angular complex built of matte-black steel and reinforced concrete, like something out of a Cold War bunker fantasy. No windows and only two exits make it into a fortress.

Inside, it’s all clean lines and brutal function. A central combat training hall with matte gray flooring, retractable walls, and pressure-sensitive tiles that record every step and hit. Punching bags hang like execution targets.

A second image shows an indoor live-fire range and a weapons vault that would rival any special ops armory. Any weapon known to man is represented, no rubber bullets or knives, the real things only. The entire facility is ventilated to military spec, with adjustable lighting for night-ops training.

And then there is thekill house—two stories of configurable rooms with bulletproof glass observation windows for grading and review.

Most impressive is the tech center—rows of screens, servers, AI tracking systems, facial recognition, drone support, live ops simulation—more control than a goddamn military base.

"Good, the registration went through. I know a judge who expedited it." I grin to myself. Lambert wasn’t too happy, but he's part of the family now. I finally got him, kicking and screaming, but he’s mine. He'll be a valuable asset to our organization. "I've sent the papers for you via email to sign. We had to settle forAegis Strategic Protection; the other names were taken."

We came up with three names for our new security company;Aegiswas the third choice. Alessio, one of my cousins, will run it here in the States, and Nikolai Mikhailov, one of Grigori's nephews, will run the training facility in Russia. The men and women coming out of the training will be top-notch rent-a-guards for the rich and elite, at least officially. Unofficially, they will be a lot more, everything from enforcers to assassins. I'm certain that within the span of a year, we'll be making good money and have recouped our investments. Between Grigori's and my family, we’ll have no shortage of clients in need of bodyguards. Especially the kind who will also know how to deal with a persistent stalker or get rid of a body.

Grigori makes a sound of agreement—half growl, half breath—when suddenly, I hear a softer, feminine voice in the background. His wife, I presume. I can't hear what she's saying, but Grigori's reply is loud and clear, “No,kotyonok. I didn’t forget. I told you, fifteen minutes, and I’m yours.”

I blink. The voice murmurs again, muffled. He chuckles—chuckles—and his tone shifts. “Yes, you can pick the movie. Even the stupid one with the stupid vampires. Just—give me a second, yeah?”

A beat of silence. Then he clears his throat and speaks to me again, voice tighter now. “Apologies. Where were we?”

I pause; this is too good to let go. “Will the facility open in time, or does the vampire movie take priority?”

His reply is quick and sharp, back to the Grigori I know. “Fuck off, she’s the only one who gets to interrupt my business and live.”

“That’s how you know it’s real,” I mutter, fully understanding.

“Careful, DeLuna. That sounded dangerously close to sentimental.”

“Don’t worry,” I smirk. “I’ll burn something later to balance it out.”

After we hang up, I return to the bedroom, where Scarlet is waiting for me. My heart hitches at the sight of her, like always.

"Antonio? Everything alright?" Scarlet turns toward the door, and I step further into the room.

"Now it is love. Now it is." I assure her.

"Grigori?" She asks. She is the only person in this world who knows everything about me and my plans. The only one I trust. I hesitated to to pull her fully into my dark world, but like always, Scarlet is full of surprises. She wants to be part of it. Not the nitty gritty, bloody parts, but for overall planning, I've learned to value her input.

"It's all set. Carlos will be dead by tomorrow morning. Call your friends and tell them to be ready. We're getting married next week."

Later that night, my phone dings with an incoming message. Having expected it, I pick it up and carefully extricate myself from Miss Octopus next to me. Her arms and legs are wrapped around me, just as unwilling to let go of me as I am to let go of her. Funny, when we fell asleep, I was the one octopus-ing her.

She grunts quietly in her sleep, and I place a possessive kiss on top of her forehead. Fuck, I love this woman.

Even now, knowing exactly what’s waiting for me on that phone, I hesitate and debate staying in bed and watching the show in the morning. But my body moves on its own. Rolling out of bed with the fluid precision of a SEAL team operator, I land in a crouch before rising silently to my feet.

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