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Viktor

The room is thick with tension, the kind that settles into your bones and makes your muscles coil, ready to strike. The scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey hangs in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of low conversations and the sound of ice clinking in crystal glasses.

The meeting room is located in a discreet high-rise in downtown Philadelphia—a neutral ground chosen by both sides. Bulletproof windows overlook the city, and the marble floors gleam under the low, ambient light. No one gets in without being checked—twice.

At the head of the table, Aithan Vasilios sits like he was born to own the room. His pewter-gold eyes are sharp, calculating as they flick over the men seated around the table. He’s calm. Controlled. But there’s a dangerous undercurrent beneath that composure. The kind of lethal control that makes other men uneasy.

As they should be.

The last people who tried to cross him—Lazaro and his men—ended up with bullets in their skulls.

Aithan looks different from the man I first met when they came for Yelena. He seems harder and sharper. There’s a coldness to him now, but not the kind that comes from apathy—it’s the kind that comes from surviving hell and coming out the other side with blood on your hands and no apologies for it.

He’s earned my respect in more ways than one.

After what he went through to get Yelena back—to protect her—I have no doubt that Aithan Vasilios is more than just the prince of the Elliniki. He’s a fucking king.

And tonight, we’re about to make sure his reign is secured.

I sit to Aithan’s right, a subtle signal to everyone present that the Bratva is standing with him. Aithan’s father, Sabastian, sits at the other end of the table, flanked by several high-ranking members of the Elliniki . Leon stands behind Aithan’s chair like a shadow, his eyes cold and scanning the room for threats.

To my left are my men—Lev and Zasha, both with their hands resting near their weapons. Not tense, not aggressive—but ready. Always ready.

Aithan leans back in his chair, the tailored black suit fitting him like a second skin, his posture relaxed but coiled with latent violence. His fingers tap against the armrest of his chair as he surveys the room. He’s letting the silence stretch, making every man seated at the table feel it pressing against their chest.

Tactical. Strategic. Ruthless.

The room quiets completely when Sabastian speaks.

“Well,” Sabastian begins, his tone smooth but sharp. “We’ve made our position clear. The threat has been eliminated. The Elliniki has been purged and is whole again.”

Zasha scoffs under his breath. “How long will that last?”

Aithan’s gaze slices toward him like a blade. “Let’s hope for a long time, because anyone who tries to betray us again will meet a worse kind of death.”

Zasha doesn’t argue, and neither does anyone else.

Sabastian clears his throat and stands slowly, with a smooth and deliberate movement. The room stills as all eyes shift toward him.

“I have ruled this organization for forty years now,” Sabastian says, his voice measured but heavy with authority. “I built it with my blood and my will. I forged alliances. Crushed enemies. And I made the Elliniki feared.”

He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room.

“But my time is over.”

A tense ripple cuts through the room. Aithan’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the tension tighten in his jaw.

Sabastian looks directly at his son. “Aithan has more than proven himself. He has faced threats from within and without—and he has come out victorious. Stronger.”

Sabastian steps forward and clasps his son’s shoulder. “Today, I officially relinquish the title of Archigos . I am no longer the head of the Elliniki.”

There are sharp intakes of breath from some of the older men seated at the table.

“I am no longer the ruler of this empire,” Sabastian continues. His eyes lock with Aithan’s, proud and unflinching. “Aithan is. He is now your godfather.”

Sabastian releases Aithan’s gaze and turns toward the men seated at the table. “All decisions from this point forward go through him. His word is law.”

Aithan’s jaw tightens. He stands, his shoulders squared as he faces the men who have served his father for decades.

“This is quite unexpected, but I have never been one to shy away from responsibilities.” He says, looking men in the eye from one person to the other. “I will make and keep the same promise my father has kept all these years. Which is safety, protection and growth in all your businesses and investments.”

Before Aithan sits back down, he asks a question that sounded more like a challenge. “Does anyone here wish to contest my leadership?” His voice is sharp and lethal.

No one speaks.

“Good.”

Sabastian steps back, reclaiming his seat at the table. He’s still powerful—still respected—but the invincible crown now sits on Aithan’s head.

Aithan’s gaze slides toward me.

“The Bratva?”

I lean forward, clasping my hands together on the table. My eyes meet Aithan’s, and I don’t bother softening my expression.

“The Bratva is prepared to move forward,” I say, my tone measured and steady. “Now that Lazaro is gone and the internal threat has been purged, we believe the path is clear to strengthen our alliance.”

Aithan’s eyes narrow slightly. Not with suspicion—but with calculation. He’s reading me the way I’m reading him. Looking for cracks in the foundation. Weakness. But he’ll find none.

I give him a sharp smile. “You’ve proven yourself, Vasilios. Eliminating Lazaro wasn’t just about protecting Yelena—it was about securing your position at the top of the chain. The Bratva respects strength. You’ve earned that.”

Aithan’s gaze sharpens further. He doesn’t speak—but the muscle ticking in his jaw tells me he’s listening carefully.

I glance toward Sabastian. “The Bratva is ready to align our resources with the Elliniki fully. Intelligence, weapons, manpower. Moving forward, our two organizations operate as one force.”

Sabastian’s brow arches. “And what are the terms of this… alignment?”

I meet Aithan’s gaze, speaking directly to him. “Full partnership. Equal distribution of resources and profits. The Bratva handles the Eastern European territories. The Elliniki keeps control over Western Europe and the States. If there’s conflict in either territory, we back each other. Without question.”

Aithan leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes darken with dangerous promise. “And what happens if one side betrays the other?”

My smile sharpens. “Then we bleed together.”

A ripple of tension moves through the room. Men shift in their seats. Some of them don’t like the idea of merging power with the Russians. Too bad. They’ll adjust—or they’ll die.

Aithan’s gaze stays locked on mine for a beat longer. Then he sits back. His mouth curves slightly at the corner. “I can live with that.”

Aithan stands. “Then it’s done.”

The rest of us stand too, following his lead. I extend my hand toward him. He grips it firmly, his strength matching mine. A silent agreement. A promise.

I lean in slightly, my voice low enough for only him to hear. “Take care of my sister, Vasilios. Or I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

Aithan’s smile doesn’t waver. “She’s my wife. My queen.” His gaze hardens. “No one touches her.”

Good.

We step back, and Aithan turns toward Sabastian. “Draw up the contracts. Make it official.”

Sabastian nods. “It’s already done.”

Aithan strides out of the room, his presence lingering long after he’s gone.

The Elliniki has a new king.

And the Bratva is standing with him.

Yelena

The sound of the elevator chime draws my attention from the balcony. The city lights stretch beneath me, glittering and endless, but my mind isn’t on the view. It’s on Aithan. He’s been gone for hours at the meeting with the Bratva. I know how important this is—the final step in solidifying the alliance between the Greeks and the Russians.

Just as I pick up my phone to send a quick message to him, the sound of the penthouse door opening makes me turn.

Aithan steps inside, his tall frame filling the room with that raw, commanding energy that always seems to shift the very atmosphere. His black shirt clings to the hard lines of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the strong veins beneath his tanned skin. His pewter-gold eyes find me immediately.

I don’t miss the tension lingering in his gaze.

I rise from the couch, walking toward him. “How did the meeting go?”

He exhales, the sound low and steady. His eyes soften a fraction as he pulls off his jacket and tosses it carelessly onto a chair. “It went well.” He rakes a hand through his hair, those sharp lines of his jaw tightening. “We’re on the right path.”

Relief floods through me. “That’s good.”

“But,” he says, stepping toward me, his eyes darkening with something deeper, “there was… a development.”

I stop mid-step, searching his gaze. “What kind of development?”

Aithan’s mouth curves at the corner, but the smile is thin, almost brittle. “My father pulled a surprise.”

My pulse stutters. “What kind of surprise?”

His gaze sharpens as he steps closer, the warmth of his body brushing against mine. “He stepped down.”

My lips part, shock ripping through me. “What?”

Aithan nods, his jaw flexing. “He made it official in front of the council and the Bratva.” His eyes darken, something dangerous flickering beneath the surface. “I’m now the leader of the Elliniki .”

My heart races. “Aithan…”

I reach for him instinctively, resting my palm against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my hand.

“You’re ready for this,” I say softly, searching his gaze. “You’ve been ready for this. You’re more than capable of ruling the organization.”

His hand lifts, rough fingers brushing along my jaw before his thumb skims my lower lip. His gaze darkens with something fierce. “No,” he corrects. His voice is low, lethal, the sound curling through me like smoke. “We are capable of ruling the organization.”

My breath catches.

“We,” he repeats, his gaze burning into mine. “You’re not just my wife, Yelena. You’re my queen.” His thumb presses against my lip, a rough caress. “They saw that tonight. They know what you are now. What we are.”

My stomach tightens. My eyes search his. “And what is that?”

His hand curls possessively around the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our lips are a breath apart. “Unstoppable.”

A shiver runs through me at the sheer weight behind that word.

“You’re not afraid?” I whisper.

His gaze sharpens. “Of ruling?” He shakes his head. “No. The only thing I fear is losing you.”

“You won’t.” My hand slides to his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Because you’re not doing this alone.”

Aithan’s lips part, his expression darkening as if my words unlock something inside him. “No,” he says, his voice like smoke and steel. “I’m not.”

He bends his head, his lips brushing mine, a dark promise curling in the space between us.

My fingers tangle in the back of his hair as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing me back against the wall. My heart races, my breath hitching as his hands slide down my back, anchoring me to him.

“I will burn the world to protect you,” he murmurs against my mouth.

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, my lips curling in a slow, dangerous smile.

“Then let’s rule it together.”

His gaze darkens, approval flickering there.

“Together,” he promises