Viktor got home late.
Not unusual, but unlike most of the time, the atmosphere inside the estate felt different. It wasn't tense. It wasn't warm.
It was patient.
When he stepped inside, took off his coat, and looked around, he saw that the fire in the lounge was lit. The curtains were closed and the table was set with two glasses. Bourbon, two fingers worth in each glass.
She was waiting.
Not like a lover.
Not like a wife.
But like a queen. Something colder and older. Someone who built a palace instead of inheriting one.
"Drink?" Lila asked from the armchair, glassy-eyed with crossed legs.
"He didn't answer," which is why Viktor chose to step closer, take the glass that she slid across the table and sit in front of her.
They sat in silence.
The peaceful ticking of the clock, alongside the sound of the two of them pretending as if this was the norm, filled the lounge.
Then Lila broke the silence with.
"There's someone I want dead."
No small talk.
Just the straightforward truth.
Because Lila didn't play games anymore.
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Viktor remained still, but inaudibly. "Who?" she asked, keeping a cold gaze.
"Rolan Petrov," Lila replied with no ounce of hesitation.
This brought Viktor to a screeching halt, and while he may not be showing it on his features, he's definitely feeling it on the inside.
Rolan has been with Viktor since the early years. He was quiet, efficient, and loyal. Well, up until recently. There were whispers, small fractures, one missing crate, a name passed to Sergei's men.
"Why?" Viktor asked, but it was clear he already knew.
Lila spun her bourbon on the table. "He's feeding your enemies information. He's been following me. He tried to intercept a message I sent to our contacts in the South."
Viktor, tasting the words, advanced, "Our contacts," sounding mildly perplexed. "Is that what they are now?"
"They are, if I make them," she said, tilting her head.
She intended to give her words harshly, but perhaps exactly how she intended.
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Viktor set the glass down.
"You're positive it was Rolan?"
"Of course."
"How positive?"
Lila leaned forward.
"Positive enough to do it myself. But, I'm giving you the chance to go first."
____________________________________________________________________--
And there it was.
The moment laid bare.
Not about Rolan.
Not really.
This was about trust.
Who does he belong to now?
Was he still the man she used to hug or the one she could build a life with?
Viktor snorted quietly.
"On your word, you want me to eliminate a man I trusted for ten years."
"On your word," Lila said, not smiling. "Yes."
"And if that's not what I want?"
She turned around then, dancing shadows fired across her skin as she strode towards the fireplace.
"I thought this was set in stone," she said gently, "then you show me that I'm building… I have to construct this alone."
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He rose as well, took a step toward her.
Not in a stance of aggression.
But near.
Close enough to perceive the bourbon on her breath, fire in her hair, and the steel in her spine.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
When Lila responded, she turned to look into his eyes.
"No," she responded forthrightly. "But I'm not frightened enough to want it anymore."
That, in particular, was what tore him apart.
Not her demand.
Not the betrayal.
But the quiet confidence in her voice when she said she could walk alone.
She meant it.
She wouldn't ask twice.
She meant it.
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Viktor allowed himself to act without thinking.
He moved, grabbed his phone, and made a single call.
It was brief.
"Rolan, come over to the estate now."
With a click, Viktor ended the call.
Lila did not wonder what needed to be done.
She understood.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Just under 30 minutes later, 'Rolan', sporting his ever-springy smile, stepped through the entrance until he spotted her.
Until he spotted 'Viktor' standing behind her.
'Silence is golden' rang in his ears.
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"Boss?" he blurted, fighting to control the quiver in his voice.
Viktor advanced. "You've been a double agent this whole time."
"No, I—"
Lila cut him off.
"You tailed me. You met us at the drop. You even gave Sergei's people names."
The color completely drained from Rolan's face.
"I-I didn't know—"
Viktor stopped him with a hand. Rolan went quiet.
"You had options," Viktor explained. "And now I do as well."
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He shifted his gaze to Lila.
She did not nod.
She didn't shove.
She kept her gaze steady.
As if anticipating how this would conclude.
Viktor calmly approached the gun safe. He opened it, revealing a Glock, which he promptly pulled out.
At one moment, he thought he would pause.
For whatever reason, he didn't.
What ended up being reality is quite simple. Rolan was part of yesterday's storyline.
That means I am no longer in Lila's reality.
But Lila…
She is everything that matters in pivoting my narratives.
"I am.
Viktor swung around, gun in hand.
Aiming made reflexes far too easy.
"Boss—please—"
Before decisive thought could settle in, a single shot rang out.
Clean and precise.
As effortless as breathing.
Without dispute, it's better this way.
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Lila didn't thank him.
She walked past the body. Past the blood. Past the smoke still curling from the barrel.
She stood at his side. Took the gun. Set it down gently.
"You didn't do it for me," she said.
"No," Viktor murmured. "I did it for us."
Lila looked up at him.
And for the first time in days, her hand found his.
Not to hold.
To anchor.
Ordinarily, she grasped his palm.
_____________________________________________________________________
Finding undeniable solace, cradling her hand to rest under his palm.
Not to hold.
To center oneself.
They refrained from talking for the remaining part of the night.
Not touching verbal sounds.
They remained motionless, gazing into the fire as if it had all the wisdom that remained unuttered and hidden within them.
And during silence, Viktor accepted the fact:
He would no longer be needed.
But she was still going with him.
And that?
That was far more valuable than loyalty could ever provide.