Trix returned to the hill.

The alarms wailed in the distance.

She lit a cigarette.

Grabbed the rifle.

Called Ksava.

Flew toward the mercenary outpost.

March 4th, 2135 — Two moons later

A Bratva administrator reached out.

The leader was dead.

She’d been summoned to take his place as Pakhan—

per Hedeon’s orders in his will.

Hedeon, right, Saymon?

Mraz’, you really fucked me with this.

She accepted—reluctantly.

They implanted the nanochip into her cheek.

Immediate access to the entire global Bratva network.

Her commands now echoed through all global branches.

She laid her head on the pillow.

Called Kiara, not giving a shit about the time zone.

The android never did video calls,

but hearing her voice was enough.

“What the fuck do you want?”

She smiled.

Maybe having a heart wasn’t so bad after all.

It felt good when it beat like this.

“I saw you picked up I’m Gonna Devour You.

I thought of you when I handed it over to Berg.

Told him to gift it to you.”

“He sold it to me, that bastard.”

“That svoloch. I’ll deal with him.

Either way, consider it a gift.”

“Fine, whatever. That all?”

“I think so, I just wanted to…”

“Then go fuck yourself,

I’m busy.”

Trix grinned wide.

“Only if you do it first.”

“Do what, dumbass?”

She let out a soft laugh.

“I gotta go.

Talk soon.”

Hung up.

Kiara’s laugh still echoed in her mind.

Maybe that was it, in the end:

A spark in the void.

A heated chaos.

And if the world ended tomorrow,

she knew one thing:

The throne was just a chair.

But the flame—

That was hers.

Trix allowed herself a smile.

Fell asleep smiling.