"He smiled while feeding her lies soaked in the blood of her loved ones." _Unknown
Maeve had just had lunch, when a knock echoed through her quarters. She opened the door slowly—and froze.
Katya stood in the hallway, dressed to perfection as always, her modelesque frame practically glowing under the warm light. But it wasn't her striking presence that left Maeve speechless—it was what she was holding.
"I... brought you something," Katya said, her voice softer than usual. No sneer. No mockery. Just… sincerity?
Maeve blinked. "Is that—?"
"A Birkin. Yes. It's yours," Katya cut in, stepping forward, the bag outstretched like a peace offering. "I've been thinking, Maeve. And I realized… I've been cruel. Disrespectful. And I'm sorry."
Maeve's lips parted in disbelief. This could not be real. Was she dreaming?
"Katya, you really don't have to—"
"But I want to." Katya brushed past her and gently placed the bag on Maeve's bed like it was a sacred relic. "It's an apology gift. Don't reject it. Please."
Maeve looked from the bag to Katya's face, searching for mockery, a camera crew, some hidden catch. But Katya's expression remained eerily gentle. It unsettled her more than the insults ever did.
"I forgive you," Maeve murmured, still stunned. "But… you didn't need to get me anything."
Especially not a bag worth million of dollars.
Katya stepped back toward the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. "I wanted to. And if you ever need someone to talk to… a friend maybe… you can come find me. Anytime."
With that, Katya walked away, leaving Maeve alone with her confusion—and a Birkin bag.
Maeve sat slowly beside it, fingers hovering over the leather. It was beautiful. Perfect. Suspicious.
She didn't know what game Katya was playing.
But this… was just the beginning.
---
The cigar smoke curled lazily in the air, but Levi didn't touch his. He leaned back in the darkened office, jaw clenched, fingers steepled under his chin. The silence around him was deceptive—calm on the surface, chaos beneath.
They were back.
The BSCs (Bratva splinter cell). A rival group Vadim had buried years ago with threats and fire— they had crawled out of hiding, like maggots sensing blood. After his father's death, the silence had fractured. And now, they were clawing at the foundation of the Gazdanov empire, leaving a trail of bodies and voices in their wake.
Three of Levi's men dead in the last two weeks. Two businesses torched. One informant beheaded and dumped in public.
The message was loud: Without Vadim, you're nothing.
He knew better. But the weight was real. Vadim had once silenced the BSCs with a single line—a threat in a hushed tone that he had something that could bury them forever.
Something powerful enough to destroy their entire operation and drag their name through hell. They believed him and disappeared into silence.
But the tool—the proof, the evidence, whatever it was—never made it. The researchers carrying it died in a car crash before it reached Vadim's hands. Bodies burned. Data lost. Or stolen.
Vadim died without retrieving it. And now Levi was left with a war at his doorstep—and a ghost of a weapon he'd never seen.
Levi stood suddenly, the chair scraping behind him. "Find it," he said to his head of research, pacing the room like a man with fire licking at his heels. "Whatever my father almost had… whatever nearly destroyed them... I want it."
The researcher nodded, pale. "We've begun—"
"No, beginning is for fools with time. You hunt it. Search with your lives. Dig through the wreckage, the labs, the archives. I want names, blueprints, servers, old voices—I want everything."
He turned, voice lowering into a quiet growl. "I'm not my father. I don't bluff. When I come for them, I'll burn them to the marrow."
The office fell into silence as Levi lit the untouched cigar, the tip burning red like a warning.
War had begun.
And he would end it.
---
The room was finally empty. The hum of machinery had quieted, voices faded, doors shut. Levi leaned back against his desk, the weight of the war dragging on his shoulders.
Then came Mikhail.
He entered like he always did—silent, sharp, calm. "I heard what you told them," he said, closing the door behind him.
"I'm not repeating myself," Levi muttered, rubbing his temples.
"You don't have to." Mikhail stepped closer, hands in his coat pockets. "I'll send a few people I trust. Old allies. They know how to dig where no one else thinks to look. If that information father nearly got exists, we'll find it."
Levi looked up. "And if it doesn't?"
Mikhail smirked faintly. "Then we give them something better."
He turned and left without waiting for a thank you.
Levi exhaled, alone again for only a moment.
Until Anton entered.
The younger man looked hesitant, a man who knew what Levi's expression already said: Now is not the time.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," Anton began.
"Later," Levi replied coldly, already reaching for his phone. "I have more important things to handle—"
"It's about Maeve."
That made him pause.
"I said, later."
But Anton didn't move. "Levi, it's important."
There was something in his tone—quiet, firm, sure. Levi lowered the phone.
Anton stepped forward and dropped a file onto his desk. "Her parents' death. I looked into it like you asked months ago."
Levi didn't touch it. Not yet. "It was an accident."
"No." Anton opened the file and pulled out grainy CCTV stills and a faded report. "The brakes were tampered with."
Levi stilled.
Anton continued, "Whoever did it was careful—paid off the investigators, buried the autopsy report. But I dug deeper. Found security footage nearly destroyed in an old city storage archive. Took me weeks too recover it."
Levi's voice was tight. "Who?"
Anton's jaw clenched. "It was someone close. Someone who had access to the car, to the timing, to their trust."
He laid the final image flat on the desk.
A blurry but unmistakable figure.
"Archie," Anton said. "Maeve's uncle."
The silence in the room became a scream in Levi's ears.
He stared at the image, at the name, at the weight of the truth Maeve had no idea she was living beside.
And just like that, the war outside was momentarily eclipsed by the storm rising within.