CHAPTER 18: THE FALL OF A KING

 Antonov's breath came in jagged snatches, and his face alternated between rage and something dangerously near panic. 

He had cemented his empire through blood and brutality, making a name for himself in the underbelly of society with ruthless precision. 

But as he knelt there, before the people he had dismissed, he finally understood what real power was.

Damien loomed over him, his eyes keener than a knife.

"You've been controlling others for years," he whispered, voice like ice. 

"But now? You're the one who has run out of options."

Antonov's lip twisted even through the pain. "You think I should be afraid of dying?"

"No," Damien admitted. 

"But I do sense you're scared of losing everything before you declare."

Antonov's fingers twitched, presumably itching for a concealed weapon. 

Damien didn't give him the opportunity. He jammed his gun into the Russian's temple.

"Let's get something straight," Damien continued. 

"Your accounts? Already drained. Your allies? Running for cover. Your men? Either dead or ready to turn on you." He grinned, cocking his head slightly. 

How does it feel for the first time in your life to be powerless?

Antonov's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Damien turned away and looked at Gabriel, who was at the control panels. 

"Status?"

Gabriel grinned. "Well, the good news is we've broadcast Antonov's filthy little secrets to a lot of very powerful enemies." 

He cast a scornful glance at Antonov. 

"I'd give it about ten minutes before every major crime syndicate in the world starts hunting you."

Nathaniel whistled low. "Damn. That's worse than death."

Antonov snarled. "You think you can delete me?"

Damien leaned in. "No. But I can guarantee that when people hear your name, all they will remember is your fall."

He turned to Isla. "What are you going to do with him?"

Her fingers curled around her gun.

She was justified to pull the trigger. An explosivity means to ensure Antonov never had another opportunity to inflict pain on another human being, ever.

But killing him here—now?

It wasn't enough.

"Let him live," she said, her voice firm. 

"But don't let him have another place to run."

Gabriel's grin widened. "Oh, I will absolutely make that happen."

"So, it is you who will convince him," Isla said, kneeling next to Antonov and locking her fierce eyes on his. 

"You told me I was merely a pawn in this game." She smiled—cold, sharp. 

"You were wrong."

With that, she got up, walked away from him.

Damien gestured to Gabriel. "Lock him in."

Gabriel typed a command in the terminal. A steel door slammed shut behind them, sealing Antonov in his own nerve center with no exit.

No escape.

No empire.

No mercy.

***

 As they walked into the night, the first sounds of sirens in the distance and helicopters overhead came to them.

Viktor Antonov was a man the world was coming for.

And this time, nobody was coming to his rescue.

The steel door trapped Antonov inside, signing his death warrant. For a man who had ruled with an iron fist, who had constructed an empire on fear, nothing could be more fitting as punishment than to be stripped of all and left to rot, powerless.

Isla didn't look back. Neither did Damien.

"Time to go," Gabriel said, powering the system down entirely. 

"We have five minutes before this place is a war zone."

Nathaniel gave a short nod. "Extraction is making its way to the south dock."

Damien put his hand to his side. His previous wound ached, but he didn't pay it mind. 

They had won. And yet, there was no celebration — only the realization that the fight wasn't done.

Because power vacuums were never empty for long.

They were prompt, escaping out through the secondary tunnels to the docks. The air reeked of salt and smoke, the night throbbed with distant mortar shells. 

Antonov's empire was crumbling in real time, but the real reckoning was yet to come.

Isla paced with Damien, her expression inscrutable.

He watched her sidelong.

She had achieved what she wanted — revenge.

But what followed vengeance?

What did those who survived the war do next?

The boat had been waiting, engines already blown. Once they were on board, Gabriel hit the throttle, crashing through the waves, leaving behind Antonov's crumbling kingdom.

For a long moment, nobody said anything.

And then Nathaniel spoke up. "So, what now?"

Damien looked at Isla.

She was staring into the dark horizon.

"I don't know," she admitted.

And for the first time since this started, so did he.

The war was over.

But the future?

That was an actual decision they had yet to make.