landon had somehow made it into the heathen mansion—past the gates, past the guards, past all the reasons he shouldn’t be here. the place smelled like expensive smoke and old power, the kind that soaked into the walls and never left.

he hadn’t come to admire it.

there was only one person he wanted to see.

nikolai was exactly where landon expected him to be, stretched out in the living room like he owned the world. boots on the table. glass of something dark in his hand. unbothered. smug.

landon didn’t bother announcing himself. he just crossed the room and dropped onto the couch across from him, the cushions sinking under the weight of his patience finally running out.

nikolai’s eyes flicked over, slow and amused. “bold of you,” he said, like landon was a mild curiosity instead of a problem.

“you want my sibling,” landon said flatly.

no warning. no buildup.

nikolai smiled. “i do.”

the answer was too easy. too honest.

“then give me yours,” landon shot back. his voice didn’t shake, even though his jaw tightened. “fair trade.”

nikolai let out a quiet laugh and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “not happening.”

“why?” landon snapped.

“because,” niko said, eyes darkening just a little, “mine isn’t yours to bargain with.”

landon stood up then, hands clenched at his sides. “neither is mine.”

the room went quiet, thick with something dangerous—something that promised this wasn’t over. not even close.