They follow me because I don’t offer salvation.
I offer clarity.
And power.
Konstantin thinks I’m playing drug dealer. That I’m undermining his little empire just to rattle the bars of his Bratva cage.
It’s small thinking for such a smart man.
No, this isn’t about product.
It’s about purity.
It’s about the powerful bloodlines who built their thrones on blood and fate. On the idea that power is inherited, sacred, something only the chosen deserve.
But I wasn’t chosen, was I?
Even with all my brilliance. Even with my loyalty. My sacrifice to the mafia lifestyle. I wasn’t born with the right last name. The right abilities. The right blood. I was only useful for one thing—fucking whoever I was told to fuck.
So, I’ll create my own throne and my own bloodline.
I’ll create my own abilities.
Something more pure, more powerful than any man could ever dream of being.
Abilities the chosen ones try to keep hidden. But when you study people long enough, you learn who is powerful and who is just pretending they are.
When I choose to reveal myself, I won’t come crawling. I’ll come crowning, and every single one of them will kneel.
Evenher.
Sweet, stupid Cressida and her silly little shadow, Sunniva.
I step closer to the table and pick up a vial, holding it to the light. It glows, iridescent and hungry.
Just like me.
The next shipment goes out tonight. More cities to create more chaos. Menace and mayhem wrapped in pretty, sparkly vials of liquid.
I don’t want to watch the world burn.
I want to remake it.
No more inherited power. No more fated bloodlines.
Just strength. Earned, bought, bottled, and injected.
Deserved.
I’ll shatter every bloodline who believes they’re more powerful than me. Not with an army and not with bombs, but from the inside.
I’ll crack their foundation, twist their laws, and poison their future.
And when it crumbles . . .
I’ll build something better from the ashes.
The trembling man finally speaks up. “Shipment’s ready, boss.”
