Viktor Krolov's mansion was a fortress of steel and luxury. Armed guards watched as Damian and Elena stepped out of the car.
Viktor awaited them in a cavernous room, lounging in a leather chair with a glass of whiskey. He was broad and menacing, his cruel smile sending chills down Elena's spine.
"Well, well," Viktor drawled. "The prodigal son and his little lawyer. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Damian didn't flinch. "We're done playing your games, Viktor. Step back, or I'll bury you."
Viktor laughed coldly. "You? You're already half-buried."
Elena stepped forward, voice steady despite her fear. "We have evidence of your crimes. If anything happens to us, it goes straight to the authorities."
Viktor's gaze sharpened. "Clever," he said slowly. "But you underestimate how far my reach extends."
The room went still as Viktor's men closed in, guns drawn. Damian stepped in front of Elena, shielding her with his body.