A week had passed since the silent deal with Alaric Drago.
Nikolai spent most of it buried in paperwork or beating his body to the edge of collapse. After the ambush at the tower, he abandoned open training grounds and took to the underground chambers beneath the Volkov estate—an old battleground once reserved for the heads of the clan.
He fought whoever he could convince. Some days two at once. Some days until his fists bled.
The training was brutal. And Nikolai no longer held back.
The quiet left in him after the battle wasn't just exhaustion.
It was loneliness.
His mother no longer lingered around him, the pendant glowing a faint blue, lacking his mother's essence. From the moment she came to the mansion, Elizabeth spent her time in the mansion owned by Ivan.
Nikolai couldn't blame her and felt the pressure to make a new body for her, though research was progressing. It would take time.
But...
It was quieter now.
Too quiet.
