Page 45 of Hooked On Victor
Just the weight of generations behind it.
Outside, the wind howled against the walls like the past refusing to die.
Inside, between the stone and the sea fog and the cold hearth waiting to be lit, a legacy stirred to life again.
Chapter thirteen
Chapter 13 – Blood Ties
The café in Lausanne sat on the high street just above the lake, its windows misted with rain blown sideways off Lake Geneva’s restless surface. Outside, the water was a steely gray, chopped by wind that scraped whitecaps across it like teeth marks. Spring here was always a negotiation with winter—a false promise of warmth swallowed up by cold gusts that rattled the awning above the door.
Inside, the place smelled of strong espresso and wet wool.
Victor sat near the back, in a half-booth upholstered in cracked red leather, posture slouched in a way that was supposed to look casual but failed. Every muscle was coiled tight beneath the plain black sweater Rose had convinced him to buy in town. His eyes were fixed on the door, unblinking.
Beside him, Rose sipped at a chipped porcelain cup of burnt coffee she had no intention of drinking. Her back was ramrod straight, knees pressed together. She tracked every movement in the café: the bored couple bickering softly at the counter, theold man readingLe Tempsand ignoring the world, the server checking her phone in the corner.
But mostly the door.
She saw him first.
The bell above the glass rang low and flat as it swung open, letting in a cold gust that caught at the napkins on the tables and sent a tremor through the hanging light bulbs.
A man stepped in.
Tall. Lean. Coat tailored to his body like armor. Black leather gloves. Dark hair combed with clinical precision, not a strand out of place even in the wind. His eyes swept the room once, quick as a scalpel.
They missed nothing.
Rose’s stomach tensed.
“Nikolai,” she breathed.
Victor didn’t nod right away.
His jaw flexed.
“He was at the clinic,” he said after a beat, voice low. Rough. “Came looking for me.”
She didn’t take her eyes off the man striding toward them with quiet certainty.
“I remember,” she murmured. “He didn’t blink enough.”
Victor let out something that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t sounded so tired.
“That’s how you knew he was dangerous?”
Rose’s mouth twitched humorlessly.
“No,” she said. “That’s how I knew he was trained.”
The door swung shut behind Nikolai with a solid click that silenced the wind. He paused by their table. His eyes lingered on Victor a second too long before flicking to Rose.
His expression was calm. Too calm.
Like a man who didn’t need to pretend at threats.
Victor stood.
