Chapter 13

The Confrontations

Lucien was not a man of hesitation. He had waited, listened, watched, and harvested enough. Spiders spun webs, yes, but even spiders had to strike when the trembling was right.

And now, the trembling had become thunder.

Alexei had grown reckless. His calls to Arjun were more frequent, his voice strained with urgency, his questions keeps coming. Lucien no longer needed to guess—Vienna was where the path led, and the charm, the so-called Cham, was the prize waiting in the dark.

But Lucien was no fool. If he let the boy slip into that journey alone, he might return with more than a ring. He might return with freedom.

That would not do.

Tonight, the mask of patience would fall.

Alexei was in his quarters when the door swung open without a knock. The boy turned, startled, phone still in hand, his eyes widening as Lucien stepped in, cigarette smoke curling behind him like a shadow.

“Uncle again?” Lucien’s voice was soft, too dangerous.

Alexei’s mouth opened, but no sound came. His fingers tightened around the phone as though it could shield him.

Lucien closed the door with deliberate care and moved closer to him, watching the boy like a cat watches a mouse that thought it was clever.

“You’ve been busy, Alexei,” Lucien stated, strolling to the desk. “Busy with secrets. Busy with whispers about… charms.”

Alexei’s breath caught. His heart slammed through his ribs. He knows.

Lucien’s lips smile strange that was both kind and cruel. “You thought I would not hear? You live in my house, boy. You breathe my air. Nothing escapes me.”

He stepped closer, placing both hands on the desk. His eyes burned into Alexei’s. “Now… tell me about this Cham.”

For a moment, Alexei’s throat closed. He thought of denying, of stammering ignorance. But one look into Lucien’s face killed the lie in his mouth. The man’s patience had run dry.

“I… I don’t know everything,” Alexei whispered.

“Then tell me what you do know.”

“It’s a relic. A ring. My uncle says it can… tempt men. Make them give, make them surrender. Their wealth, their secrets and their power. Willingly.”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “So it’s true.”

Alexei hesitated. “It’s only stories. I don’t even know if it exists.”

Lucien’s laughter was mocking. “Stories do not make you whisper into phones at night. Stories do not make ministers tremble. Do not lie to me, Alexei. You believe it exists. Otherwise, why chase it?”

Alexei’s chest constricted. He hated how easily Lucien stripped him bare.

“I thought…” His voice broke. “I thought maybe it could free me.”

The admission slipped out like blood from a wound.

Lucien straightened, his smile fading into something darker. “Free you?” He repeated the words, as though savoring them. “From me?”

Alexei’s face dropped to the floor.

Silence stretched like a blade between them. Then Lucien chuckled, shaking his head. “You wound me, boy. After all I’ve given you—life, purpose, power. And you dream of trinkets to loosen my chain.”

“You gave me survival, not life.”

For the first time, anger flickered in Lucien’s perfect mask. But he smothered it quickly, pacing the room, his voice was cold.

“Listen well, Alexei. I am not your enemy in this. You think to use this Cham to break chains? Fool. If such a ring exists, it does not belong to orphans and dreamers. It belongs to men like me. Men who can wield it. Control it, and amplify it.”

He turned, eyes blazing. “You want freedom? Then give me the Cham. Help me claim it, and I will make you more than free—I will make you untouchable.”

Alexei’s breath just skipped. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Lucien—interested, almost desperate. The man who claimed he needed nothing but his own will was now admitting hunger for the ring.

And in that hunger, Alexei glimpsed a rare crack in Lucien’s armor.

“Why?” Alexei asked. “You already have power. Men obey you. Politicians fear you. Why do you need this?”

Lucien’s check flexed. “Because power bought with fear can crumble. But power born of surrender… that lasts forever. Imagine it: bankers begging to open their vaults, generals kneeling, ministers handing me their souls with smiles on their faces. No blood, no bullets, no bribes. Only obedience and eternal irresistible.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “That, boy, is empire.”

Alexei sighed hard. He wanted to spit in Lucien’s face, to call him mad. But deep down, a shiver of fear slid into his bones. If Lucien ever touched the Cham, what would be left of the world?

His uncle’s warnings still echoed in his mind: The Cham does not break locks, Alexei. It breaks men. And some men should never hold it.

But here was Lucien, towering, relentless, offering him a bargain.

Alexei steadied his voice. “And if I refuse?”

Lucien’s smile returned. “Then your uncle dies.”

The words hit like a hammer. Alexei staggered back, eyes wide.

“You wouldn’t—”

“You think I haven’t traced him already? Delhi, isn’t it? Arjun Singh. He speaks too much, knows too much. One word from me, and his voice goes silent forever.” Lucien leaned closer, whispering into Alexei’s ear. “Do not test me, boy.”

Alexei’s fists clenched. Rage swelled in him, but so did helplessness. Lucien had boxed him in, as always.

For a long time, silence filled the room. Only the ticking of Lucien’s watch could be heard.

Finally, Alexei whispered, “You’ll give me no choice, will you?”

Lucien moved back, satisfied. “Choice is an illusion, Alexei. You have survival. And survival is me. Now… will you help me claim the Cham?”

Alexei closed his eyes, torn between blood and chains. Between his uncle’s faith and Lucien’s shadow.

When he opened them again, his voice was though hollow. “Yes. I’ll help.”

Lucien smiled, clapping him once on the shoulder. “Good boy.”

The next days unfolded like a trap closing.

Lucien wasted no time. He summoned Henri, gave orders to prepare documents, routes, disguises. A journey to Vienna was crafted with surgical precision—under aliases, with cash, no traces.

At meals, Lucien spoke little, his mind clearly occupied by the thought of the Cham. But his eyes never left Alexei, watching for any flicker of betrayal.

And Alexei… he played his part. He answered when spoken to, nodded when instructed, never flinched. But inside, his soul burned.

Every step towards Vienna was a step deeper into Lucien’s claws.

Yet another thought gnawed at him: what if he found the Cham before Lucien could claim it? What if, by some twist of fate, it came to him first? Could he truly wield it? Could he finally cut the chain?

The idea frightened him almost as much as it thrilled him.

On the eve of their departure, Lucien entered Alexei’s room again, this time without smoke or pretense.

He handed the boy an envelope. Inside were stacks of euros.

“Money is no problem,” Lucien said. “Whatever you need, you take. I want no excuses, no delays. If the Cham is in Vienna, it will be ours.”

He placed a hand on Alexei’s shoulder, squeezing it like a vice. “Remember, Alexei. Your uncle’s life rests on your loyalty. Fail me, and he dies. Bring me what I seek, and he lives.”

Alexei met his eyes, refusing to flinch. “And after that?”

Lucien smirked. “After that… the world kneels.”

When Lucien finally left, Alexei sat in silence, the envelope heavy in his hands.

He thought of Arjun’s voice, weary: There is nothing you cannot tell me. Blood remembers. God remembers.

He thought of his mother, of the life stolen from him, of the boy he once was.

And he whispered to the empty room: “God help your orphan. I walk with chains, but perhaps in Vienna… I find the key.”

He did not know whether he spoke of the Cham—or of his own strength to end Lucien.

Either way, the confrontation had changed everything.

Lucien knew. Lucien hungered. And now the hunt for the Cham had begun, with Alexei caught between love and fear, blood and empire.

And in the shadows of Vienna, destiny waited—ready to devour them both.