Page 17 of His Grip

The man was in town, and he was making a play for Viktor’s empire.

Fucker.

How many men like Alexei had thought they could take him down? And how many times had he proven them wrong? Hewould do it again with Alexei—if he could get his hands on that slimy bastard. Viktor swallowed the wine and smashed the glass against the wall in frustration. It shattered into a million pieces, and in the aftermath, he considered slamming his fist against the wall.

He hated it when people got under his skin. It was understandable, considering that if he let them, he’d end up six feet under. Viktor had built a formidable empire by never allowing anyone to get to him. But somehow, Alexei was doing just that.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Andrei; the man’s heavy tread was as familiar as the irritation that often accompanied him.

“Come in,” Viktor snapped.

Andrei entered, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had earned his place at Viktor’s side, but today, there was a rigidity in his posture, a wariness that didn’t escape Viktor’s notice.

“What is it?” Viktor asked, gesturing for Andrei to speak.

Andrei closed the door behind him and stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Alexei’s making moves,” he said. “More than we thought. Some of our men—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “They’re listening to him.”

“Names.”

Andrei hesitated, a rare show of reluctance. “I don’t have them yet. But I will.”

“You’d better,” Viktor replied, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Andrei shifted, the hesitation returning. “There’s something else.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Sofia.”

The name hung between them, and Viktor’s expression darkened.

“What about her?”

Andrei didn’t flinch under Viktor’s scowl, but there was a pulse of something—disapproval, perhaps, or concern. “She’s a distraction, Viktor. We’ve got Alexei making moves, men questioning your leadership, and you’re—” He stopped himself, but the implication was clear.

“And I’m what, Andrei?”

Andrei held his ground. “You’re letting her get under your skin. I’ve seen it. Others will see it too. They’ll think you’re weak.”

The room went deathly quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside. Viktor’s eyes bored into Andrei, his expression unreadable.

“Do I look weak to you?” Viktor finally asked, his tone soft but lethal.

Andrei looked up at him, but there was a dim of unease in his eyes now. “No,” he said quickly. “But perception matters. And right now, Alexei’s using every angle he can find. Don’t give him more ammunition.”

Viktor stood, the movement slow and deliberate. He walked around the desk, his every step measured, and stopped in front of Andrei. For a moment, he said nothing.

“Sofia is my wife,” Viktor said. “And whatever game Alexei thinks he’s playing, it has nothing to do with her.”

Andrei didn’t argue, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. Viktor saw it, and it ignited a spark of fury within him.

“You have your orders,” Viktor said, dismissing him with a sharp nod. “Find the names of the traitors and bring them to me. And Andrei?—”

Andrei paused at the door, turning back.

“Don’t bring up Sofia again.”

Andrei gave a curt nod and left without another word. Once the door closed, a sigh escaped Viktor's lips, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Andrei’s words lingered, needling at him in a way he hated to admit. Sofia wasn’t a distraction—she was a complication, yes, but not a weakness. He wouldn’t allow her to become one.

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