VERA'S POV
ONE WEEK AFTER
Vera was restless. Even the sound of the River outside her window, usually a calming presence, seemed to whisper warnings now. It had been over a week since her brother, Pavel, had shut his door and walked away from her, leaving her with the heavy burden of his fear. He'd told her to forget it, but the fear had woven itself into the fabric of their home.
She hadn't seen Pavel much this week. He was tense and distracted, either locked in his room or out late, always telling their mother he was "managing security issues." Vera knew better. He was worried, stressed, and hiding something.
She was pacing her plush bedroom carpet just after 2:00 AM when she heard it: the faint, nearly silent click of the front door closing, followed by the soft sound of a man's shoes on the marble floor far below. It wasn't her father; Vladimir never moved so stealthily.
Vera crept to her door and peered down the long, dark hallway. She saw the shadow of Pavel slipping quickly into his room at the end of the hall. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped, but there was a new, hard edge to his posture—like a man who had just won a small, secret battle.
Where has he been?
A sudden noise from her father's study made her freeze. The study door wasn't fully closed. She heard the familiar clink of a tumbler and the heavier, frustrated sound of Vladimir's voice.
"You're telling me we just lost three key warehouses to a common fire? A copper theft?" Vladimir scoffed, his voice loud enough to carry. "And the city is already putting a freeze on the entire zone? This is incompetence, Dimitri! We need to tighten our security, not waste time investigating petty vandalism!"
Vera recognized the name—Dimitri was one of her father's top security aides. She pressed her ear against the wall near the study door.
"Glava," Dmitri's voice was low and hesitant, "the fire was small. The real issue is the structural compromise. The city engineers say the foundation is compromised beyond immediate repair. And, Glava, the warehouses were leased just last week by Zhukova Holdings' subsidiary."
A heavy, stunned silence filled the hallway.
Then, Vladimir's voice, cold and laced with suspicion, pierced the quiet. "Sergio? Why would he lease three warehouses, only to have them destroyed by thieves a week later? Is he moving in on our territory?"
"He was moving in on the Port Bottleneck, Glava," Dmitri confirmed. "It's a strategic location. But to lose the lease so quickly... it looks like a targeted strike. Perhaps another rival.
Vera's heart started to pound. This wasn't a petty incident. This was the Industrial Zone Pavel had been staring at on his maps. She knew, with a rush of icy certainty, that Pavel had been out there tonight, and that this "accidental loss" was his doing. He wasn't just worried anymore; he was fighting back.
She realized her fear was giving way to a strange mix of terror and pride. Her brother was risking everything to protect their father, who was too blind to see the danger.
She retreated to her room, her mind racing. The war had started, quietly and surgically, just as she and Pavel had feared.
Sergio's POV
Sergio Zhukova was standing by the large, glass window of his home office, staring out at the city lights that glittered across the river. The room was dark, lit only by the screen of his tablet, where the details of the disaster glowed.
His calm, predatory composure was gone, replaced by a deep, simmering fury. He tossed the tablet onto the desk with a sharp clatter.
"A botched copper theft?" Sergio bit out the words, turning to face his two sons, Kiril and Nikolai, who stood silently before him. "They targeted the storage tanks and destroyed the structural integrity, rendering three key properties unusable for months, and the best the police can do is blame vagrants and thermite?"
Nikolai, stepped forward. "It wasn't vagrants, Papa. Vagrants don't know the difference between copper wiring and a chemical structural catalyst. This was a professional hit. Precise. Surgical."
Kiril, ever the strategist, narrowed his eyes. "And look at the targets, Father. Not just a random shipment; these were the three key properties needed to control the Port Bottleneck. This move was clearly defensive and highly informed."
Sergio walked over to the expensive bar, pouring a heavy measure of vodka. "Defensive? Meaning someone saw my move. Someone in Vladimir's inner circle is not as blind as the old Glava." He took a long, burning sip.
"Who?" Nikolai demanded, his hand subconsciously moving to the dagger concealed beneath his jacket. "It's too early for any other rival family to move against Vladimir. They would wait until he looked weak."
"Exactly," Kiril confirmed. "This wasn't an attack to steal market share. This was a countermove designed only to buy time and create bureaucratic chaos. It halts our financial chokehold before it even begins."
Sergio's eyes were icy. He ran through the possibilities, dismissing them one by one. Vladimir's old guard was loyal but slow. Zoya was shrewd, but she had no tactical training.
"Pavel," Sergio finally whispered the name, tasting the bitterness on his tongue. "The viper. He looked at me with that distrust, that suspicion. Vladimir dismissed him, but the boy is intelligent. He saw the ambition, and he acted."
Sergio slammed the glass down on the desk. This was worse than a confrontation; it was a silent challenge from the heir apparent. Pavel had just proven he was a credible threat.
"He is trying to warn his father without actually showing him the evidence," Kiril realized. "If he told Vladimir about our subsidiary leases, Vladimir would have confronted you. Instead, Pavel chose to attack our move covertly, forcing us into a resource drain."
Sergio smiled, a slow, terrifying curve of his lips. "The boy is learning the game faster than I thought. He has fire. Good. A warrior deserves respect."
He looked at Nikolai. "The game has changed. We can no longer afford the slow choke. Pavel will be searching for the main artery—the final move. We need to accelerate the timetable."
"The asset?" Nikolai asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Yes. The thing Vladimir trusts more than his own son," Sergio confirmed, his voice dropping to a decisive pitch.
"Vladimir Petrov is protected by his history. We will use that history to tear him down. Kiril, you are to ensure that the Industrial Zone remains a chaotic bureaucratic nightmare for the next month. Nikolai, you will prepare the asset. Move the schedule forward three days."
Sergio lifted the glass again, looking at his reflection. Pavel had made his first move. It was time for the Glava of the Future to make his final, decisive move.