Page 54 of Mafia King

The simple certainty in his voice settles something in his chest.

Theo nods. The title still carries weight—an entire world of loyalty, violence, and absolute authority that he has only begun to glimpse.

Yet the fear does not fully leave.

One problem has been faced and, against every expectation, survived. But another remains…

“Tracker,” Theo says. The name tastes bitter now. “They’re still out there. They know my identity. They know I failed.”

Nikolai glances at Theo once, then returns his attention to the road.

“I have a plan for Tracker,” Nikolai says. “And I have a feeling the person behind that name may be connected to the Rossini family. If that is true, the danger for you has only increased. You are no longer just a failed asset. You are a loose end who now belongs to me. That makes you a target.”

Theo absorbs the words in silence.

The city skyline is beginning to rise in the distance. Clusters of light against the dark, the familiar towers of the financial district and the older neighborhoods beyond.

Theo has spent years moving through that skyline like a ghost. Tonight he is returning as something else entirely.

“I want to help,” Theo says.

Nikolai’s hands tighten fractionally on the wheel. He does not answer immediately.

Theo continues, voice steady even though his heart is still racing…

“If I can help bring down Tracker… if I can be useful against whoever hired me… then I’ll feel like I’ve truly earned your loyalty. Not just because you decided to believe me, but because I proved I deserve it.”

The silence stretches for another mile.

Finally Nikolai gives a single, measured nod.

“I will think about it, darling boy,” Nikolai says, the pure authority of a seasoned pakhan coming over loud and clear.

Theo turns his face toward the approaching city. The warm air moves across his skin. The bracelet rests against his pulse.

Behind Theo lies the motel room where he faced the possibility of death and instead heard the words that rewrote everything.

Ahead lies the complicated, dangerous future of a young man who now belongs to a Bratva pakhan, and who still has a shadowy employer somewhere in the dark, almost certainly preparing the next move.

Things are good with Nikolai now.

But that does not mean Theo is out of trouble.

Not by a long way.

17

NIKOLAI

Morning light fills the kitchen of the townhouse in clean, quiet shafts. Nikolai sits at the wide oak table with a double espresso in front of him, the dark surface of the coffee still and yet strong as ever.

Across from Nikolai, Theo cradles his own cup, both hands wrapped around the warm ceramic. Between them, propped carefully against a small saucer, sits the boy’s cherished stuffie, an unofficial mascot to the work at hand. A tiny espresso cup—purely ceremonial—rests in front of Maximus as if he too is part of the morning briefing.

Theo glances at the stuffie and then at Nikolai, a soft, almost shy smile touching his mouth.

“Thank you for picking him up from my place on the way back last night,” Theo says. “I know it was out of the way.”

Nikolai takes a slow sip of his coffee. “Anything for you, mylashka.”