The meeting was not supposed to happen.
Artyom knew that.
Every instinct told him this was dangerous.
Yet he still came.
The abandoned cathedral stood on the edge of the old district, half forgotten by the city. Snow gathered on its cracked stone steps and broken statues.
Artyom stepped inside.
Cold air filled the massive hall.
His heartbeat echoed in the silence.
Then—
"You came."
The voice was calm.
Familiar in a way that hurt.
Artyom turned slowly.
Andrei Morozov stood near the altar, his long coat dark against the pale snowlight coming through the broken windows.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Eighteen years of absence stood between them.
Artyom's voice was tight.
"Why?"
Andrei tilted his head slightly. "You came all this way just to ask one question?"
"Yes."
A quiet breath escaped Andrei.
"I was forced to leave."
"That's not what I was told."
"I know."
Artyom's fists clenched.
"You let me believe you abandoned me."
"I let you survive."
That answer froze him.
"What does that mean?"
Andrei walked slowly across the stone floor.
"When you were born, you became the most valuable heir in three different power structures."
Artyom frowned.
"Sokolov."
Andrei nodded.
"Morozov."
Another nod.
"And Volkov."
Artyom blinked.
"What?"
Andrei's eyes darkened slightly.
"Your future marriage to Viktor Volkov was already being discussed when you were a child."
The words hit like a shockwave.
"That's impossible."
"No," Andrei said calmly. "It was inevitable."
Artyom laughed bitterly.
"So my life was a business contract."
"Yes."
The honesty hurt more than a lie.
"But I refused," Andrei continued.
Artyom looked at him sharply.
"I refused to let them turn you into a political weapon."
"So you left?"
"No."
Andrei's voice hardened.
"I was removed."
Artyom's breath caught.
"Sergei forced you out."
"Yes."
The silence between them was thick.
Artyom shook his head slowly.
"Then why start a war now?"
Andrei looked directly at him.
"Because you're old enough to choose."
"Choose what?"
"Your own life."
The words should have felt freeing.
Instead they felt terrifying.
Before Artyom could answer—
Footsteps echoed from the entrance.
Both men turned.
Viktor stood in the doorway.
Snow clung to his coat.
His expression was unreadable.
"How did you find us?" Artyom asked.
Viktor's voice was calm.
"You disappeared."
Andrei studied him carefully.
"So the Volkov heir came personally."
Viktor didn't look away.
"I came for Artyom."
Andrei's lips curved slightly.
"Of course you did."
The tension between them was immediate.
Predator meeting predator.
Artyom stepped forward.
"Stop."
Both men looked at him.
"I'm not a prize."
Viktor spoke first.
"I know."
Andrei nodded once.
"Then prove it."
For the first time—
The real battle had faces.
Not corporations.
Not empires.
Just three people standing in a ruined cathedral…
Trying to decide the future.