Page 12 of Kazimir

I felt the familiar ache, the old longing that never left. Not for the sex—there was always sex, everywhere, and I could have any of it—but for the surrender. The hunger to lose oneself, to be unmade and remade at another’s whim. That was a luxury I could not afford.

The club’s pulse returned to normal, louder now, as if the audience needed to fill the space that had just been emptied.

I left the dais by the side stairs, winding my way to the third floor.

The office was my anchor. No matter how many lives or empires I built, it always ended with me, alone in a fortress of books and liquor and ghosts. A polite knock. Then, without waiting for a reply, Yuri entered.

He moved like a liquid shadow—silent, purposeful, no wasted motion. His bald head caught the purple light from the club, outlining his features in harsh relief. He wore a charcoal suit and, as always, gloves.

He didn’t sit. “Sovereign.”

“Report.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders square. “The casino is stable. Bohdan has implemented your new marker limits—there was pushback from the demons, but nothing overt.”

“Which demons?”

He recited the names: Vaelreth Korr and Thessan Mor; two lesser nobles, one not even worth the price of his own soul. “They’re desperate, sir. Borrowing heavily. I’ve limited their credit, as instructed. Know that Korr has a hellhound in his possession.”

“Interesting. Thank you, Yuri. Keep me updated. One last thing; I have felt incubus power tonight. It’s muted, but be mindful. See if Amelia can sniff him out. Keep an eye on him. We don’t want anyone taken advantage of.”

“Da,” he said and left without another word.

I stood at the window, letting the club’s glow bleed through the glass. I could see Bohdan at the bar, laughing with a cluster of demons and high-class vampires. He was in his element, smiling that predator’s grin, teeth white as a new moon.

It struck me how much he’d changed in the last year. Once, he would have torn apart anyone who slighted him or his siblings. Now he ran a business built on compromise and spectacle, and did it better than I could have hoped. I’d never told him, but I was proud.

I watched as he poured a drink for a familiar face—one of the city’s oldest witches, name lost to time, but her eyes were as sharp as broken glass. They clinked glasses, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to revolve around them.

Bohdan’s laughter reached me even through three feet of soundproofed glass. It was genuine.

I turned away, unease prickling the back of my neck. Yuri’s hesitation stuck with me. He was a creature of habit, unflappable even in a firefight. Something had him rattled.

I was halfway to the door when I saw it. In the corner of the security feed—a small screen above my desk—a disturbance at the club entrance. Amara at her desk, but her posture was wrong, tense. A girl, barely more than a shadow, stumbled through the doors, collapsed just inside. She didn’t trip or faint. She folded, as if the weight of the world had finally crushed her.

Yuri moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He was in the lobby in seconds, Amara already standing, uncertain.

I left the office at a run, covering the three flights in what would have been a blur to anyone watching. I slipped through the crowd, a shadow in my own domain.

By the time I reached the lobby, Yuri was kneeling over the girl. She sat with her back to the wall, knees drawn up, arms around them. Her hair was impossibly pale, almost white, and hung in damp hanks around her face. She wore street clothes, nothing remarkable: tattered jeans, a plain hoodie, but the way she held herself—the rigidity, the utter stillness—was not human.

She looked up at Yuri, and even from across the room I saw the color of her eyes: the unnatural blue of glacier melt, shot through with a clarity that made my vision swim.

Amara was almost yelling at her, “You cannot be here!”

Yuri was asking how she had made it through our doors. If she saw them. She almost laughed at him because she was in the building; of course she saw the doors.

The girl blinked. “Please.”

Her voice. It sounded like music. Amara hovered behind Yuri, uncertain what to do next.

I stepped forward, the club’s lights throwing my shadow ahead of me. The girl’s eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment, the entire room fell away.

It was like being punched through the heart. A jolt so sudden I forgot how to breathe.

I wanted to tear Yuri away from her, to tell him she was mine, that no one else could even speak to her. Instead, I walked until I stood over them both.

Yuri looked up at me, and for the first time since I’d known him, there was real uncertainty in his face.