The leak didn't hit like the last one.
It didn't shake markets.
It didn't touch money.
It went deeper.
At exactly midnight—
Every major private network, encrypted channel, and underground server received the same file.
No sender.
No trace.
Just a title:
ORIGIN PROJECT — SUBJECT CONFIRMATION
And beneath it—
A single name.
Artyom Sokolov.
In the Sokolov estate—
The silence was suffocating.
Pavel was the first to react.
"What the hell is this?" he snapped, slamming the tablet onto the table.
Makar's expression darkened. "It's everywhere."
Nikolai stood still, eyes fixed on the screen.
"They exposed him."
Sergei said nothing.
But his silence was louder than any reaction.
Leonid looked at him.
"You knew."
Not a question.
A statement.
Sergei's jaw tightened.
"I suspected."
Pavel turned sharply. "You suspected? That he was part of some experiment?"
Sergei's voice was cold.
"He was useful."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Ugly.
Nikolai looked away first.
Across the city—
Volkov Tower was already awake.
Dmitri had multiple screens open.
Tracking spread. Containing reactions. Mapping responses.
"It's global," he said. "Every major player has seen it."
Mikhail's expression hardened. "They just painted a target on him."
Nikola's voice was quieter.
"No."
He looked up.
"They made him the target."
Yelena crossed her arms slowly.
"This isn't exposure."
"It's bait."
Roman stepped forward.
"For who?"
Silence.
Then—
Viktor answered.
"For everyone."
Far below—
In the Underground—
Artyom stood in front of the screen.
His name stared back at him.
Cold.
Public.
Unavoidable.
No more whispers.
No more secrets.
Just truth—weaponized.
"They moved faster than expected," one of the men said.
Andrei Morozov didn't look surprised.
"They were always going to," he replied calmly.
Artyom didn't move.
Didn't react.
But something in him had changed.
"They're going to come for me," he said.
Not fear.
Just fact.
"Yes," Andrei said.
Silence.
Then—
"Good."
That made Andrei look at him.
Artyom's eyes were steady now.
"No more hiding," he continued. "No more being passed around like something valuable."
His voice lowered slightly.
"If they want me…"
A pause.
"Let them come."
For a moment—
Andrei saw it.
Not the boy.
Not the abandoned child.
Something sharper.
Something dangerous.
Andrei gave a small nod.
"Then we prepare properly."
Above ground—
In Volkov Tower—
Viktor was already moving.
Coat on.
Gun loaded.
"Where are you going?" Mikhail asked.
Viktor didn't stop.
"To him."
Roman's voice cut in.
"You don't know where he is."
Viktor paused.
Just for a second.
"I will."
Roman watched him carefully.
"This isn't strategy anymore."
Viktor's answer was immediate.
"It never was."
Their eyes met.
Power against power.
Control against control.
Then Roman spoke.
"If you walk out now…"
A pause.
"You don't represent the Volkov empire."
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
Mikhail shifted slightly.
Yelena's eyes narrowed.
Dmitri didn't look up.
Nikola watched Viktor closely.
Waiting.
Viktor didn't hesitate.
"Then I'm not going as the heir."
He walked past them.
Without permission.
Without looking back.
Back underground—
Alarms started ringing.
Not internal.
External.
Dmitri's earlier prediction had come true.
"They've started moving," someone said.
"Multiple groups."
"Different directions."
Andrei's expression hardened.
"They're not coordinating."
Artyom stepped forward.
"They're competing."
"Yes."
For him.
Across the city—
The war had finally taken shape.
Not hidden.
Not quiet.
Open.
Hungry.
Dangerous.
In the middle of it—
Artyom Sokolov stood still.
No longer a secret.
No longer a shadow.
A name.
A target.
A weapon.
And now—
A choice.
Far above—
Snow fell heavier over Veligrad.
But beneath it—
Men were already hunting.
Empires were shifting.
And one truth echoed across every corner of the underground world—
Whoever controls Artyom Sokolov…
controls everything.