“Istvan, what is going on?” Leon shuffled, both he and Alexandru grouping together, unsettled by the shift in the atmosphere.
“Leon, why don’t you shut the fuck up and hide behind your fae mistress as you normally do?” Istvan dismissed him.
Leon’s eyes went wide with shock, his mouth puffing, his cheeks ruddy with embarrassment and anger. “How dare you!”
“I said shut up!” Istvan’s voice cut through the space. “Both of you have been nothing but a nuisance to me. And now I no longer have to play nice.”
Ivanenko and his daughter peered at each other haughtily, and I understood a great shift was happening.
“I do not have to stand here and be disrespected like this.” Lazar huffed, ire creasing his features.
“You do, and you will, Alexandru.” Istvan gleamed with power. Every word to these men was said with dominance. He seemed relieved he could finally pull down the veil of pleasantries. “Things have changed.”
Tracker retrieved something from a messenger bag, lifting it up into view.
My entire universe stopped, oxygen seizing in my lungs.
In his hands was a box, singed and burnt on the corners and across the lid. I recognized every mark as if it were a tattoo on my skin. I knew they had it, could feel it, but seeing Tracker place the nectar in Istvan’s hands… Reality slammed into me like a tsunami. Terror churned and swallowed me whole. Taking no prisoners. Perception of time and space blinked out of existence, my brain not computing the certainty of this moment.
Istvan had the nectar.
He had his men walk in and take it because of one single flaw I let slip out to the wrong person. One of the most powerful substances in the world was now in the hands of the most narcissistic, psychotic, evil asshole because of me.
“What is that?” Leon huffed, though Sonya stood stock-still, her eyes locked on the box. “I’ve had enough of your games, Markos.” Leon turned for the exit. Sergiu tapped at his father, wanting to follow, but Lazar stopped him, his head shaking.
“Take another step, Leon, and it will be your last.” Istvan’s focus stayed on the box in Tracker’s hands as he spoke.
Leon’s eyebrows pushed together, glancing at everyone else as if he were saying, are you going to put up with this? The rest didn’t move as if they sensed what Istvan held, could feel its magic, whether they were human or not.
“This is ridiculous!”
“For once, just shut up and listen before you open your trap,” Sonya spat, irritation and disgust on her face, like she also no longer had to play nice to him.
He went still, shocked by her reaction, taking in Lazar’s and Sonya’s tense figures.
But they no longer mattered to me; all I saw was the object in Istvan’s hands.
I could feel it calling to me. The possessiveness of someone taking part of you—it was violating and wrong. The power thrummed from the box, a drumbeat in sync with my pulse. It wanted me to seize it back. To have what was rightfully mine. It went past ownership, a magic significant to only me. Oxygen heaved from my lungs, a growl slipping through my gritted teeth. I felt and saw nothing else.
“Kovacs,” Warwick called my name, the feel of him skimming over my skin, dipping beneath. His real hand tried to pry mine open. Peering down, I noticed blood dripping into the dirt from my hand, my nails slicing deep into my palm from my grip.
“It’s mine.” The force with which it called to me, the need to take it and protect it from anyone else who wanted to touch it, trembled my muscles.
“I know,” Warwick replied evenly, his deep voice keeping me from actually leaping up to the balcony. “We will get it back.”
Istvan’s fingers clutched the lid, slowly opening the box, his eyes scanning over the object inside. A smile curled his lips, his eyes flashing, the shine of greed and power glowing on his face. His shoulders were set back, his spine straightening; his confidence created the impression he was getting taller. Arrogance and superiority filled the space around him.
“What is that?” Leon looked in the box, his nose wrinkling up, his overconfidence ramming up against the tension growing among them. I was starting to think Sonya pulled the strings behind the scenes, giving Leon his ruthless reputation. I didn’t doubt he was, but his own arrogance had dulled his common sense, made him believe he was untouchable. “This is what you are all trembling over? Some solidified honey or whatever it is.”
“Nectar,” Istvan replied, a giddiness in his tone I had never heard before.
“This is the mythical nectar?” Leon exclaimed before bursting out in a throaty laugh. “You have lost your mind. Not only is it just a fairytale, but you expect me to believe that gross lump of goo is all-powerful? It is sap you probably harvested from a tree—”
“Do you not feel its power, Leon?” Istvan’s hand quaked as he lifted toward the nectar.
I didn’t even realize I had reeled forward until I felt Warwick and Ash both grab my arms.
“Are you that obtuse? Ask Sonya if she thinks the nectar is a myth. Even Lazar seems to understand what I have.”
Leon glanced at Sonya and Lazar, both resembling statues. While Sergiu seemed to want to follow Leon’s example, his father’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him from stomping off like a toddler. Ivanenko and Olena glowed with authority and supremacy. Ivanenko, through his daughter, was on the side of power. And I couldn’t deny Ukraine was by far a more formidable ally in strength and power than Romania or Czech.
Istvan sucked in a sharp breath before pulling his hand back, nodding his head at Tracker. Tracker shut the lid.
“Sonya, let’s go.” Leon beckoned her as she would a dog, still continuing down his obstinate road. When someone is used to being the alpha, or at least acting the part, they couldn’t seem to get when it was time not to be an idiot. “I’m done with your games, Markos.” He marched for the door.
With an insignificant flick of Istvan’s chin, HDF soldiers shuffled in, blocking Leon’s path.
“Move!” Leon bellowed. “How dare you block my way. You still work for me.”
Bang!
The shot rang out, piercing the walls in surround sound. Lazar and Sonya barely reacted, while Sergiu screamed out as Leon’s body dropped to the ground. Blood pooled from the hole between his eyes.
“You are wrong, Leon. They work for me,” Istvan retorted. The shift in power, in leadership, was like a light switch, guards moving in and around Sonya, Lazar, and Sergiu, holding them at gunpoint.
“Leon was warned.” Istvan snapped around to the remaining leaders. “So, let it be a warning to you… things have changed,” Istvan declared, his head held high with no doubt. “I am your king now.”
Olena moved closer to Istvan with a cruel smile, and her head held with the same conceit and surety. She was his queen.
Ivanenko may not like Istvan being over him, but being on his side with his daughter gave him even more power and control than he had before. He could basically rule and dictate out Istvan’s laws as a sub-king. The king could only do so much, so Ivanenko had made himself basically second in charge.
In one swift move, not only did Istvan have Romania and Czech, but he had Ukraine as well. Three huge power-seated countries. It wouldn’t be long before he took the rest of the Eastern Bloc. Only China might contest; the rest were too poor with insufficient military power to fight.