Chapter 14

The Journey to Vienna

The day came fast, the whole of Alexei's night was horrible, he couldn't sleep. He stood by his window, staring at the sleeping city as though it might answer the questions tearing through him. Vienna. The very name had begun to taste bitter in his mouth, tangled with secrets, charm, power, and chains he could not yet see but already felt coiling around his ankles.

He had not told his uncle.

Every time the thought of confessing rose, he heard the warnings of his uncle: “Beware the third party, Alexei. They will dress as friend but strike as master.”

Hmm! What an irony of life; he whispered through the darkness.

Lucien had become that warning incarnate. And yet, Alexei remained bound, walking willingly into the trap because what else was left for him?

The suitcase sat at his feet. Clothes folded, passport ready, all the things a man needed for travel. All but one: peace.

The morning came fast, Lucien arrived with the punctuality of a man who never allowed the world to dictate his time. His car, pulled to the curb like a silent predator. When Alexei stepped into it, the interior smelled like blood masked by perfume.

“You’re ready,” Lucien said without turning his head.

It wasn’t a question. It was an assertion, the kind that demanded no reply. Alexei only nodded, clutching his bag tighter, feeling like a schoolboy dragged to lessons he had not chosen.

The ride to the airport was long. Outside, the world bustled: early-morning vendors calling out, children running to school, men and women rushing with briefcases and coffees. Inside the car, there was only silence and the occasional sound of Lucien’s desperate hand tapping the briefcase.

Every few minutes, Alexei thought of pulling out his phone, dialing his uncle, spilling everything. He imagined the old man’s fury, his disappointment, his desperate attempt to stop him from boarding that plane. But each time, his fingers froze.

If he told him, his uncle might come. And if he came, Lucien would see him as an obstacle. Alexei didn’t want his uncle to end up as collateral in this war of underworlds. Better silence, better cowardice.

The terminal noise with the energy of departures — languages mixing, suitcases rolling, voices rising and falling like tides. Yet for Alexei, it all blurred into a distant memory. He moved through security, passport checks, and waiting lines with a body that functioned but a mind that wandered.

Lucien strode beside him like a king in exile, commanding respect with the mere cut of his suit and the smart look in his eyes. People stepped aside without knowing why, drawn back by some primal instinct that whispered: Predator.

“You’ve flown before?” Lucien asked suddenly, his voice breaking into Alexei’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Alexei said. His voice was too quick and too defensive.

Lucien smiled. “Good. Then you understand what it means to leave the ground, to cut yourself from everything familiar. It’s the closest thing to freedom most men ever know.”

Alexei sat, thinking how ironic those words sounded in Lucien’s mouth. Freedom? This journey felt more like a cage with wings.

The aircraft lifted with a roar, pressing Alexei back into his seat. For a moment, he stared at the noisy city — rooftops, roads, and people becoming mere dots swallowed by clouds. His chest tightened. Somewhere down there, his uncle might be reading the morning paper, sipping bitter tea, never knowing his nephew was vanishing into the sky with a man who could end him.

Lucien reclined as though born for the air. He flipped through papers, made notes, checked his watch, all with the ease of a man who never once doubted control.

“You’re quiet,” Lucien said after an hour, glancing sideways.

“I don’t like flights.”

“Or is it that you don’t like where this one leads?”

The question cut deeper than Alexei expected. His mind tightened, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t give Lucien that satisfaction.

Lucien moved too closer: “Vienna is not just a place, Alexei. It’s a mirror. It will show you what you are — and what you can become. Some men are terrified of that reflection and others… embrace it.”

Alexei looked out the window, watching the endless white of clouds. What will I see? he wondered. A prisoner? A betrayer? Or something worse — a reflection of Lucien himself?

Hours stretched into eternity. Alexei’s mind wandered back to nights with his uncle — the way he had spoken of dangers hidden in friendship, the way his eyes had hardened when speaking of power.

“Charm is the most dangerous poison,” his uncle had once said. “It doesn’t kill quickly. It makes you drink it willingly, until you’re hollow and don’t even know why.”

Lucien’s voice from the last chapter warned back that memory: “Power born of surrender… that lasts forever.”

Alexei closed his eyes. His uncle’s warnings were still fresh, yet here he was, crossing borders with the very man those warnings had predicted.

Mid-flight, Lucien poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Alexei, with a sweet laugh in his face.

“To Vienna,” he said.

Alexei hesitated. Then, not wanting to show fear, he lifted the glass. The wine burned bitter on his tongue, though Lucien drank as though savoring victory.

“You’ll thank me one day,” Lucien murmured. “For showing you a path wider than the streets your uncle would keep you on. Vienna will not just open doors. It will teach you which ones to burn.”

The words left Alexei's whole body cold.

Hours later, the plane began its descent. The captain’s voice spoke of Vienna, of weather and temperature, but Alexei heard only his heartbeat. Each thud was a countdown.

Lucien folded his papers, slid them into his bag, and straightened his tie. Ready, always ready.

Alexei gripped the armrest as the earth rose to meet them. Vienna sprawled, historic, a city of music and empire. But for Alexei, it was the stage of his reckoning.

As they disembarked, Lucien moved with the calm of a man arriving home, even though this was foreign soil. Alexei followed, his chest hitting. The air was like knives drawn in alleys he had yet to see.

And still, he did not call his uncle. His phone buzzed with a message — likely harmless and simple: Are you well? But he could not bring himself to answer. Not yet.

Soon, perhaps. Once he had stepped fully into this web, once he had man seen the strands that Lucien spun around Vienna, once he understood the danger. Then, maybe, he would tell him. Or maybe by then, it would be too late.

The journey had been arranged for two, but Alexei felt like one man against something unknown. He carried his uncle’s warnings in his heart, yet silence on his tongue. He carried Lucien’s poison in his glass, yet defiance in his chest.

Vienna waited.

And, that could be the beginning of the end.