Gregor was already turning for his car.
“No— no.” Damjan cut through the crowd before I’d even processed the word “no,” people stumbling out of his way.
“Stay here.
With your mum.” “Absolutely not.” “Nico—” “He just— he just said that in front of 300 people, Damjan, I’m not standing here pretending I didn’t hear it.” “This isn’t a discussion.” “Everything’s a discussion.
That’s how conversations work.” “Not.
This.
One.” “Oh, so NOW you’re doing the capitalize-every-word thing, that’s— that’s very reassuring, very calm, very much not making me more worried—” “Nico, I do not have time for—” “You never have time, that’s kind of your whole deal, you just decide something and expect me to—” He grabbed my wrist, not hard, just enough to make me stop.
“Please.” That hit different.
I actually stopped mid-sentence, mouth still half open on whatever I’d been about to say.
“You don’t— you don’t get to ‘please’ me into hiding,” I said, quieter now.
“I am not asking you to hide.
I am asking you to let me—” “To let you what?
Go alone?
Handle him yourself, same as you handle everything, same as you’ve been doing for years before I showed up?” He didn’t answer that.
His jaw worked, and for a second I actually thought he was going to argue his way out of it, but he just looked at me, his shoulders dropping half an inch, and gave in.
“Fine.” His voice had gone flat.
“Behind me.
Properly behind me, not next to me like with Leander.” “Fine.” “I mean it, Nico.” “I said FINE.” “You always say fine and then—” “I know what I always— can we PLEASE just go before he actually gets in the car?” “Are you— are you two quite finished?” Henrik said, already jogging to catch up, waving one hand at us like he could physically pull us into moving faster.
“Nearly,” I said.
“Good.
Move.” We reached the gate fast, Henrik already there, jacket half undone, phone still clutched in one hand, and Gregor hadn’t left yet, hand resting on the car door like he’d known someone would follow.
“Mr.
Falk.” Henrik’s voice came out clipped, like he’d been holding it in since the ceremony.
“You need to leave.” “I’m going.” Gregor didn’t look at Henrik.
His eyes were already on me, moving slowly, cataloguing, like he was reading a report he’d already memorised and was just checking the footnotes.
“But since you’ve come all this way, Nico, I might as well say the rest properly.” “There’s more?” “There’s always more.” A pause.
“You run faster than any player in this league.
2 assists in your first start.
Bonded to my son’s oldest rival inside a week of landing in this country.” His head tilted, just slightly.
“You don’t— you don’t believe in half measures, do you?” “Didn’t realize there were any on offer.” His eyes shifted, faster this time, and he didn’t answer right away.
“No,” he said.
“I don’t suppose there were.” “You’ve clearly been reading up on me.
Should I be flattered?” “Both, probably.
I find the two aren’t mutually exclusive when it comes to me.” “Not reassuring.” “Wasn’t trying to reassure you.
You said you preferred honesty, before we’d even properly met.” “You say that a lot.
‘Before we’d even properly met.’ Like this counts as properly meeting now.” “Doesn’t it?” “Feels more like an ambush with better manners.” That actually got something out of him, a short exhale that might’ve been a laugh if he’d let it go any further.
“What do— what do you want?” Damjan said.
Flat.
Dangerous.
“I told you.
To offer congratulations.” “You’ve offered them.” “And to see for myself what all the noise’s been about.” Gregor’s gaze hadn’t left me.
“Half my contacts on the Council think you’re a weapon.
Half think you’re a liability in a football kit.
I find myself curious which one’s closer to the truth.” “Maybe neither.
Maybe I’m just a bloke who plays football and fell in love with the wrong bloke’s rival, and none of this is about weapons or liabilities.
It’s just my life.” “How refreshingly naive.” “I prefer honest.” “Rarely the same thing.” He glanced at Damjan, his face went almost fond, and honestly that was worse than if he’d just looked hateful.
“You’ve picked a mouthy one.
Your father would’ve found that unbearable.” Damjan went still.
“Don’t speak about my father.” “I knew him for 30 years.
I’ll speak about him if I please.” “Not to me.
Not here.” “Where, then?
Somewhere more convenient?” “There is— there is no version of this where you get to say his name and make it sound like affection.” “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission for how I remember him.” “You don’t.
You need to stop doing it in front of me.” Gregor held both hands up, mock surrender.
His eyes came back to me, studying, long enough that my skin wanted to crawl right off my body.
“Braver than I expected,” he said finally.
“That’ll either serve you well, or it’ll get you killed.
We’ll find out which, I suppose.” “That supposed to scare me?” “No.
Supposed to be honest.
You said you preferred that.” I didn’t have an answer, and he knew it.
I watched him clock exactly how hard that hit, a small satisfied twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You’ve made your point,” I said.
“Congratulations delivered, chess piece assessed, you can head off now.” “Chess piece.” Gregor’s mouth curved.
“Unflattering, for yourself.” “Felt accurate.” “Perhaps.
Though chess pieces don’t talk back.” “How do you— how do you know so much about our security, anyway?” I said before I could stop myself.
“The gates, the schedule, all of it.
That’s not just watching from the road.” His eyes shifted, faster this time, and he didn’t answer right away.
“That,” he said, “is a very good question.
I’d ask your own people that question before you ask me.” “That’s not an answer.” “No.
It isn’t.” He almost smiled.
“But it’s the only useful thing I’ve said to you all morning, so I’d hold onto it, if I were you.
People rarely give you something for free twice.” “You need to leave,” Henrik said again, stepping between the gate and the rest of us.
“I’m going.” Gregor turned, unhurried, every movement so deliberate it felt rehearsed.
He paused, hand on the door.
“I meant every word of what I said back there.
All of it.” He got in, and the car pulled away, gravel crunching under the tyres, and none of us moved until it had rounded the bend and vanished, the sound of the engine fading slow into ordinary birdsong, like the whole morning hadn’t just tilted sideways.
“He’s— he’s never done that before,” Henrik said.
“Come himself.
Walked into a ceremony like he owned the place.” “I know,” Damjan said.
“What does it mean?” I said.
“The— the game’s changed.” He was still watching the road.
“He doesn’t waste threats.
If he says he knows where to aim, he’s already picked a target.” “Could be me.” “Could be.” He finally looked at me, his face gone blank and careful.
“Could be your mum.
Could be Kit, if he even knows Kit exists.
Could be something I haven’t thought to protect yet.
That is the honest truth, and I know it is not the answer you wanted.” “That’s a comforting list.” “Not trying to comfort you.
Trying to be honest, same as you asked him to be.” “I didn’t ask him to terrify me, though.” “No.” His hand found the back of my neck, steadying, thumb pressing once against the skin there.
“That part he does for free.” “Do you think he actually knows who leaked the schedule?
Or was he just— I dunno, messing with us, trying to make us paranoid about our own people?” “With— with Gregor, it’s rarely one or the other.
Probably both.” “Great.
Cool.
Really productive answer, that.” “I did not say it was productive.
I said it was honest.” My legs had gone strange, adrenaline finally catching up now the danger had physically driven off, and his arm came around me before I’d even registered leaning into him.
“You did well,” he said quietly.
“Don’t feel like it.
Feel like I might throw up.” “That’s— that’s what doing well feels like sometimes.” “Is that actually true or are you just saying it ’cause it sounds nice?” “Both, probably.” “That’s not— that’s not an answer, Damjan, that’s just you copying Gregor’s answer style back at me.” “…Fair.” Henrik’s phone buzzed.
His whole posture changed, shoulders coming up tight.
“What,” Damjan said.
“My contact.” Henrik didn’t look up.
“The one investigating the leak.” “And?” “Give me a second.
Reading it properly first.” “Henrik, whatever it says, just—” “I am reading it, Nico.
Give me the second.” I looked at Damjan, and he looked back, and neither of us said anything while Henrik’s thumb kept scrolling, his face doing nothing readable at all.
He looked up.
I couldn’t read his expression at all.
That scared me more than anything he might’ve said.
“He— he has a name.
He has a name already.”