Chapter 39: The Pact of Ashes

Kasimir

The rain over the Danube did nothing to remove the smell of burning diesel. Instead, it mixed with the ash and cold river water, making the air heavy and difficult to breathe.

Inside the hidden shelter beneath an old grain elevator in Vienna, a single light bulb hung from a worn cord. It swung gently above us. The distant sound of city traffic passed through the damp stone walls.

I leaned against a concrete pillar, my left arm held tightly against my chest in a fresh surgical sling. The painkillers had stopped working hours ago. Now, a sharp, burning pain ran through my arm, matching the pounding of my heartbeat.

Across from me, on a wooden crate, lay the leather folder Vespera had rescued from the fire. Three old sheets of paper were spread beside it: Erich Lindner’s autopsy report, the forged transfer document, and the laboratory reports that revealed the truth behind twenty years of lies and bloodshed between our families.

Soren sat at the far end of the long pine table. He had taken off his ruined suit jacket. His silk shirt was torn at the shoulder and covered in soot and dried blood.

He no longer looked like the powerful, untouchable crime boss who had controlled the Baltic shipping routes for twenty years.

He looked like a broken man who had spent his entire life chasing an enemy, only to discover that the truth was much closer to home and far more painful than he had imagined.

“The second detonator failed,” Soren said quietly. His voice sounded dry and empty. He kept his eyes on the laboratory report. “The explosives beneath the main dock went off, but the rising river water weakened the blast. She escaped on another boat before the dock collapsed.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice rough with exhaustion. “Jonas confirmed that her convoy crossed the Bavarian border an hour ago. She’s already heading back to the central bank in Frankfurt to secure control of the board.”

Soren gave a quiet, bitter laugh, but it quickly turned into a rough cough.

He poured two fingers of cheap rye whiskey into a chipped glass. His hand shook so badly that some of the drink spilled over his bruised fingers.

“Twenty years, Kasimir. Twenty years I spent cutting off your father’s supplies, leaving your workers without food or money, and hunting down everyone connected to your family.” He paused, staring at the papers. “All because she made me believe your father was the one who held the syringe that killed mine.”

He slammed the glass onto the table. The sharp sound echoed through the empty room.

“She made me destroy the memory of the wrong man!” he shouted.

His grey eyes burned with anger and pain. The silence around us made his words sound even louder.

“She let me spend my entire life drowning in hatred while she used my father’s ships to build your family’s fortune!”

“I know,” I said quietly.

I took one slow step toward the table. I didn’t reach for a weapon or prepare myself for him to attack me.

“And every breath I take, every part of the life I have, has been paid for with the blood she stole from your family and Vespera’s.”

Soren breathed quickly, struggling to control his anger. He pressed his fists against the old wooden table until his knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened as he slowly raised his eyes to mine.

“Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?” he asked coldly. “You carry her name. You sit in her chair.”

“I’m going to destroy everything she has built,” I said. My voice was cold and firm, and the room fell silent.

“The board will meet in three days to decide how the company shares will be divided. Greta believes she controls seventy percent of the votes because of the Falkenrath assets she seized.”

I reached into my coat with my right hand and pulled out a heavy metal drive. It contained the original records Vespera and I had uncovered while searching the library. I placed it on the table and slowly pushed it toward Soren.

“You have the records of her secret bank accounts. You also have the original Lindner family financial records she hid in Zurich,” I continued, looking straight into his eyes. “If you take those documents to the international court in Hamburg while I use my power inside the company to block her decisions, we can strip away her legal protection before the stock market opens.”

Soren stared at the drive, his forehead creasing with suspicion.

“To block her decision, you need more than half the votes in the family trust,” he said. “You don’t have enough shares, Kasimir. Even with your father’s shares, Greta still has the deciding vote.”

“She has that vote because she believes Vespera’s father lost his right to the shares when he died,” a calm voice said from the dark doorway.

Vespera stepped into the light.

She wore a dark wool coat, and her face looked pale and tired. But her eyes were filled with a determination that nothing could break. Seeing her there filled me with a deep sense of pride, though the fear for her safety still hurt inside my chest.

She walked to the table and placed her father’s black notebook beside the metal drive.

“My father never signed away his shares,” Vespera explained firmly. “On my eighteenth birthday, he placed them in a special maritime trust under my name. Greta hid the paperwork, but the original documents bearing the official registration stamps are locked inside the Munich vault.”

Soren looked at the notebook, then at Vespera, and finally at me.

For the first time, the confusion and hatred that had controlled his life seemed to disappear. In their place was a clear, cold determination.

“We attack her from inside the boardroom,” he whispered, a cruel smile slowly spreading across his face. “And we destroy her in court.”

“No mercy,” I replied hoarsely. “No deals. We take everything she built and leave her with nothing.”

Soren reached across the table and picked up the metal drive.

“We have a deal, Adler.”

He stood and pulled his torn coat over his shoulders, ready to head into the rainy night and gather his legal team.

But before he could reach the iron door, the emergency radio clipped to my belt suddenly crackled.

Jonas’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and panicked. The sound of strong winds roared in the background.

“Herr Adler! Stop the plan to retrieve the documents from the Munich vault! Greta hasn’t gone to Frankfurt. She’s just sent a private army to the Alpine Ridge estate!”

My blood ran cold.

“Why is she at the estate? The house is empty!”

“She’s not after the house!” Jonas shouted through the static. “She’s found the second medical facility! She’s taken Liesea!”