Page 76 of Savage Obsession

She just holds me.

And for the first time, I let someone carry the weight with me.

We lost.

But we survived.

And maybe—just maybe—we’ll find a way to heal. Together.

32

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, calculatingas 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 theElliniki.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 theElliniki. 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. TheEllinikihas 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 theEllinikifeared.”

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.

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