Page 161 of Fallen Empire

My stomach twisted hard enough to make me sick. For the first time since this started, I let myself think it: none of us might make it out of here alive. Because when Costa gave the order, the guns trained on Aleksei would swing to us.

I scanned the room again, weighing the odds I didn’t want to face. Three of ours still had guns raised. Six of theirs stood in full tactical armor, faces hidden behind black visors, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of their chests. The sound of breathing wasn’t mine, wasn’t Ben’s, wasn’t Jaxson’s—it was theirs.

My eyes found Costa again. He was moving with slow, unhurried steps toward Aleksei, like the chaos around them didn’t exist. His suit was flawless, dark fabric catching the low light, every step measured.

He stopped in front of Aleksei and lowered himself into a squat, bringing them eye to eye. For a moment, it felt like the rest of us had vanished—just the two of them locked in something private, dangerous.

Then Costa reached out and cupped Aleksei’s face in one hand, his thumb dragging slowly across the blood on his cheek. The gesture was almost tender, but every hair on the back of my neck rose.

“That’s not how we behave,” he said softly, like he was correcting a child. And somehow, that was worse than if he’d shouted.

Costa’s hand lingered against Aleksei’s cheek, thumb smearing the blood like it was nothing more than dirt.

Aleksei’s smile widened. “Still pretending you’re the one in charge, old man?” he rasped. “Funny… from where I’m sitting, I’m the one holding the only thing you want.”

His grip on Savannah tightened, just enough to make her head tip further against him. “You came all this way, Costa. Be a shame if I blew her brains out.”

My eyes widened. He had no idea. I’d spent years reading people, reading rooms—and from where I was sitting, Aleksei was the only person here who didn’t realize he’d already lost control.

Costa’s smile was small, almost kind. “Son,” he said, voice smooth as silk, “I didn’t come for her. I came for the man who drained money from me.”

Aleksei’s laugh came out low and ragged, teeth still streaked red. “Your little boy Knox over there is responsible for that. So I did what you asked.”

Costa didn’t react. He simply stood, brushing invisible dust from his suit jacket before slipping his hands into his pockets. Then he started walking—not toward the door.

One step.

Two steps.

His gaze never left Jaxson.

But his voice… his voice was for Aleksei.

“The man I wanted gone,” Costa said, each word slow, deliberate, “didn’t just recently shut down my cash flow.” Another step. “No… this man started years ago. Chipping away at everything I built. Every shipment. Every connection. Every dime I was owed.”

Costa stopped directly in front of Jaxson, walking right into the end of the barrel pressed to his chest. The smile that curved his mouth was faint, cold.

“Been a while, Knox,” he said, his accent thick with Italy’s south—smooth vowels drawn out, consonants clipped sharp like the edges of a blade.

I didn’t know what scared me more—that Jaxson didn’t flinch… or that Costa didn’t either.

Costa gave a tight nod before turning back around. He started pacing, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to make whatever point he was building toward.

But half the room that was still alive was bleeding out.

Pure, raging adrenaline was the only thing keeping me conscious. Every heartbeat rattled my skull, and every breath tasted of rust and pennies.

Jaxson and Ben were both still on their feet, but standing in pools of their own blood. Jaxson’s shirt was soaked through at the side, Ben’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his knuckles white around the grip of his gun. Neither of them wavered, their barrels still locked on Aleksei like the world depended on it.

And maybe it did.

“I already fucking told you, old man,” Aleksei snarled, his voice cracking through the air. “He’s the guy. He’s the one that’s been stealing what we worked for. All those people we took—worth billions—and he waltzes in with his fancy friends, barely trained, and plays hero. Steals bodies we worked hard to get.”

He spat the words like they were poison, eyes flicking between Costa and Jaxson with that same sick pride, like he thought his crimes were trophies.

Costa snapped his tongue against his teeth, a loudtsk tsk tskechoing through the room. “That man,” he said, tilting his head toward Jaxson, “has more power in his pinky than you’ll ever have. And he doesn’t even use it.”

He was standing in front of Aleksei again, close enough to touch, looking down at him like he was debating his next move. But I could see it in his eyes. He already knew how thisended. He wasn’t deciding. He was choosing his words, slow and careful, so every single person in the room would hear him.