Page 64 of Hooked On Victor
Nikolai studied him.
“Russian officials are panicking. Western governments are screaming at historians to shut up. Half the internet thinks you’re a ghost prince waiting to reclaim a throne.”
Victor snorted, low and humorless.
“Let them,” he said.
Nikolai’s eyebrow lifted.
“You sure you’re okay with staying invisible? Letting them turn you into a legend instead of a man?”
Victor’s eyes turned out the window.
Rain tracked down the glass in wavy lines.
Past it, the canal glistened like a black vein through the heart of the old city.
He watched a cyclist pass, hood pulled tight, head down against the wind.
“I don’t need to be seen,” he said quietly.
His voice was almost lost beneath the murmur of the café, the clink of cups and scrape of chairs.
“I just need it to matter.”
Nikolai’s gaze didn’t waver.
After a moment, he nodded once.
“There’s more power in mystery anyway.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small silver object.
He set it carefully on the table.
It spun once, then lay still in the candlelight.
It was another token.
Identical in weight and shape to the vault’s.
Except beneath the double-headed eagle, a phoenix spread its wings in rising flame.
Rose leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
“What is that?”
Nikolai’s voice dropped to something grim.
“A second vault,” he said. “Somewhere colder. Deeper. My side of the family’s legacy. But it can wait.”
Victor’s fingers didn’t move at first.
Then he reached.
Picked it up.
Turned it over, reading the phoenix like a threat and a promise.
