Nikolai’s pulse pounded in his ears, a relentless drumbeat of frustration and rage. The weight of the night settled over him like a thick fog, suffocating, inescapable. Alex could have died. The thought alone sent a violent storm through his chest, his breathing ragged. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms until they stung. He wanted blood—needed it. Whoever had done this was still out there, and Nikolai ached to tear them apart.
He barely heard the voices around him, only snapping back to reality when Lucas spoke, his tone as sharp as a blade.
“Of course, he would be strong,” Lucas said. “He’s challenging the Greco and Smith alliance. Only a fool would come unprepared.”
“Not necessarily,” Antonio countered, arms crossed. “He could be reckless, but he has to be smar
