Chapter 12 - The Ghost of Brighton Beach
The report took less than an hour to unpack, but its ripples reached deep into the underbelly of New York’s shipping syndicates.
That evening, back in the sprawling security-fortified penthouse, Nikolai sat behind his sleek glass desk, the glow of twin computer monitors illuminating the intricate tattoos crawling up his throat. I sat across from him in a deep leather armchair, nursing a glass of red wine, watching the quiet storm raging behind his dark eyes.
“It’s not my father,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.
“No,” Nikolai replied, his voice flat, dead, and terrifyingly calm. “Your father is currently living in a modest studio apartment in New Jersey, working a legitimate job at a hardware store, too terrified of my name to ever pick up a pair of dice again.”
“Then who?”
“Viktor Vance,” Nikolai said, tapping a file on his screen. “The low-level syndicate boss your father originally owed forty thousand to. He thought my buyout was an insult to his local authority. He’s been trying to rally a few disgruntled dockworkers and small-time loan sharks to challenge my shipping ports in Brooklyn.”
I set my wine glass down, a cold chill washing over me. “Is it dangerous?”
Nikolai looked up from his screens. The absolute stillness in his gaze was more terrifying than any weapon. He stood up, walked around the desk, and knelt beside my chair, placing his large, warm hands over my trembling fingers.
“Dangerous for them, Elena,” he said softly, his voice dropping into a register that brook zero argument. “Not for us. Tomorrow morning, Viktor Vance will receive a visitor. By tomorrow night, he will realize that stepping into my territory was the last mistake he will ever make in this city.”
“Nikolai—I don't want blood on my account,” I whispered, touching his cheek. “I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by ruin. I want peace.”
May you like
He leaned his face into my palm, his dark eyes softening as he looked up at me with fierce, unconditional devotion.
“There will be no blood spilled where you can see it, Elena,” he promised, his thumb brushing my jawline. “I protect my empire so that you never have to look at the dark. But understand this: nobody threatens what is mine. Tomorrow, this chapter closes permanently.”
