Chapter 7 - The Silver Coin|
The peaceful afternoon stretched into a golden evening, casting long shadows across the terrace. I watched Emma and the pups until they exhausted themselves, curling into a pile of fur and fleece on the outdoor rug. Clara handed me a glass of iced tea, her fingers briefly brushing mine. The warmth of the moment was something I had fought thirteen years to secure, and I intended to protect it with my life.
"She looks so happy, Sebastian," Clara murmured, leaning against the wooden railing.
"She is," I replied, taking a slow sip. "We all are. The Vale empire is finally what my brother envisioned. Clean, legitimate, and safe."
Before Clara could respond, the heavy oak door of the terrace opened. Marcus, my head of security, stepped out. His face was pale, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor. In his gloved hands, he held a small, black velvet box.
"Boss, forgive the interruption," Marcus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This arrived at the front gate. No courier, no cameras picked up the drop. It was just... there."
I set my glass down, the ice clinking loudly in the sudden silence. "Open it."
Marcus popped the lid. Inside rested a single, tarnished silver coin. It bore the emblem of a two-headed eagle, struck through with a deep, deliberate scratch. Clara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. I recognized it immediately. It was the calling card of the Volkov Syndicate, a ghost from my father's era.
"They know we are vulnerable," I said, my voice hardening. "They think the cleansing of our ranks made us weak."
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"What do we do?" Clara asked, her eyes darting toward Emma, who was still sleeping peacefully.
"We prepare," I answered, feeling the familiar, cold edge of the wolf returning to my blood. "Marcus, double the perimeter guards. No one enters or leaves without my direct authorization."
