Page 60 of Hooked On Victor
Of Rasputin, who had chosen preservation over ruin.
Of Nikolai, who had watched him like an older brother and a stranger in equal measure.
And of Rose.
Always, Rose.
Her hand steady on his shoulder in the vault. Her voice, the one thing that had never once tried to claim him.
He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until the last second.
A voice cut through the cold air—low, smooth, unsettling in its casualness.
“Not everyone wants peace, Romanov.”
Victor turned, calm but coiled, eyes narrowing.
The man stood by the terrace railing, as if he’d simply stepped out of the mist. He was clean-shaven, his suit a meticulous charcoal pinstripe that didn’t belong in this windswept country place. His gloved hands rested lightly on the iron balustrade, body language as relaxed as a guest at afternoon tea.
But his eyes were wrong.
Dead.
Victor didn’t blink.
“I thought the scavengers would show up eventually,” he said flatly.
The man inclined his head a fraction.
“You’re releasing something you don’t understand,” he said. His voice had the careful modulation of a diplomat, but there was nothing diplomatic in the intent beneath it. “You think the truth sets you free? It doesn’t. It just paints a target.”
Victor took a step closer. He moved without haste. But he was ready—she could see it in the way his shoulders set, the angle of his hips.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
The man’s mouth curved into something that wanted to be a smile.
“Someone with more to lose than you.”
He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a simple cream-colored card. Held it out like an invitation.
“This is your final warning. If you let this echo into the world, we will answer it with fire.”
Victor didn’t lift a hand to take it.
He didn’t need to.
He understood the message perfectly without reading a single word.
The man studied him a moment longer. Then he turned and walked away, soundless as a ghost, his silhouette vanishing down the slope into the mist.
Victor stood very still.
Only when he heard Rose’s quick footsteps behind him did he exhale.
She emerged onto the terrace, gun already in hand, her eyes wide and sharp.
“What was that?” she demanded, voice low but fierce.
