I’m Alexei Markov. I built an empire out of nothing but blood and calculation, and I don’t waste words on sentiment. People like to think loyalty and friendship matter, but I’ve seen how quickly they fracture when a choice is made—when the person you thought was yours slips through your fingers and into another man’s arms. My brother in arms lies in the ground because of it, and she sits in my penthouse now, carrying the only piece of him left. Everything else belongs to me.