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“Then you can’t have your brother. Without your cooperation, I have no reason to keep him alive.”

The words hang in the air between us like a garrote, choking off any response I might have formed. I swallow hard, forcing myself to think past the blind panic threatening to consume me.

“You claim to care about family legacy,” I say, measuring each word carefully. “Yet you're willing to murder your own grandson if I don't comply?”

Mikhail's expression doesn't change. “I've spent decades rebuilding from the ashes, Vesper. I've sacrificed everything—comfort, morality, even my humanity—to reach this point. One grandson is a small price to pay for the restoration of the Vasilyev dynasty.”

“Show me proof that Luca is still alive,” I demand, playing for time. “Recent proof. Not some pre-recorded video you could have filmed days ago.”

“Cautious. Good.” He reaches into his jacket, retrieving a sleek tablet. His fingers dance across the screen before he turns it toward me.

The image that appears steals my breath, Luca, strapped to a metal chair, his head lolling forward. A digital timestamp in the corner shows today's date and current time. As I watch, a gloved hand enters the frame, gripping my brother's hair and yanking his head up. “Say hello to your sister,” a voice commands off-screen.

Luca focuses slowly on the camera. “Vesper?”

His voice is weak, raspy from disuse or screaming. I can't tell which. But he's alive. My knees nearly buckle with relief. The feed cuts abruptly, Mikhail's finger sliding across the screen with casual cruelty.

“Satisfied?” he asks, tucking the tablet away. My face must give me away because he doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “No? Maybe you need a little more incentive? The Collector pauses, turning towards the closed office door. “Bring him in.”

My heart slams into my ribs, time suspended as the door crashes open.

A guard shoves a figure through the doorway, the man stumbling forward before catching himself against the wall. His head is bowed, blond hair matted with dried blood. But I'd know that silhouette anywhere.

Alex.

He’s alive.

VESPER

“Alex?”His name tears from my throat, raw and disbelieving.

His head lifts at the sound of my voice. “Vesper.” Just my name, but undeniably his voice.

My body moves before my mind can process, lurching forward only to be caught by Mikhail's iron grip on my arm. “Not so fast, granddaughter.”

“Let me go!” I snarl, struggling against his hold as I drink in the sight of Alex—alive, breathing, standing before me. His faceis bruised, one eye swollen nearly shut, his lip split and crusted with blood. But he's alive. Somehow, impossibly alive.

“Touching,” Mikhail observes coldly. “I thought you might appreciate this particular reunion. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. I had him fished out of the Atlantic despite how many of my men he killed with that stunt of his.”

My mind reels, trying to process the impossible. Alex is alive, standing before me, his body a testament to the violence he's endured. I force myself to think past the shock, past the overwhelming relief threatening to drown me.

“Why?” I manage to ask. “Why keep him alive?”

Mikhail's lips curve into that terrible smile. “Insurance upon insurance, my dear. I've found redundancy to be quite valuable in my line of work.”

I can see him cataloging every detail of my appearance, assessing for injuries, for signs of mistreatment. Even now, beaten and captive, he's trying to protect me.

“He's been rather...resistant to questioning,” Mikhail continues, releasing my arm but positioning himself between us. “Loyal to a fault. A rare quality these days.”

“Let him go,” I hiss.

"Let him go?” Mikhail shakes his head. “You misunderstand the nature of our negotiation. Mr. Rafner here isn't part of what's being offered. He's merely...additional motivation.”

I force myself to look away from him, to focus on Mikhail's face, my grandfather's face, with its terrible familiarity.

“You want me to help you take down Victor Petrov," I say carefully, buying time as I process this new reality. "In exchange for Luca's freedom. And Alex? What do you want in exchange for him?”

Mikhail glances over his shoulder at Alex's battered form. “He remains with me. Insurance that you'll fulfill your end of our arrangement.”