Chapter 414 - 414: Viktor Meets Kyle... Again! [FIXED!][21/06!]

Kyle arrived at the address and stopped.

There, on a weathered bench overlooking the Thames, sat Viktor. The massive Russian was unmistakable—bald head gleaming under the grey sky, metal teeth catching the light as he grinned at something only he found amusing. His frame seemed too large for the bench, like a bear trying to fit in a child's chair.

"Viktor."

Kyle couldn't believe his eyes. He had expected a contact. An informant. Maybe someone from Marcello's network. But Viktor himself? The Butcher? In broad daylight, surrounded by tourists and street performers?

"He's not even hiding."

Kyle studied him for a moment. The fear he used to feel—that primal, gut-level terror that Viktor inspired in everyone—was gone. Not because Viktor was less dangerous. But because Kyle had changed.

"I could make him disappear. Not alone, but I have the means."

The system. The rebate. The connections he had built without anyone knowing. Viktor was powerful, but Kyle had become something else entirely.

He walked over and sat beside Viktor without a word.

The bench creaked under Viktor's weight. The river flowed past, indifferent. A group of tourists took photos nearby. A street performer juggled flaming torches.

Neither of them spoke.

One minute passed. Then two, then five.

Kyle leaned back, enjoying the weather. The sky was grey, but the air was crisp. The city hummed around them, unaware of the two men sitting in its midst.

Viktor broke the silence first.

"You are vondering vhy Viktor is here."

Kyle interrupted him. "Not really. I know you've been watching me. And I don't mind it, Viktor."

Viktor's grin faltered, his brow furrowed as he was certain Kyle was unaware.

"As a matter of fact," Kyle continued, "I feel safer knowing you're keeping an eye on things. I know you won't let anything happen to me."

Viktor stared at him. His metal teeth were still visible, but the grin had faded into something that he couldn't quite read.

He was so used to fear—to people shrinking away, to eyes darting to the ground, to the stench of terror that followed him everywhere.

"He's not afraid of me."

No one had ever said that to him. No one had ever looked at him like he was anything other than a monster.

"You are strange," Viktor said finally.

"So I've been told." Kyle shrugged. "Why did you want to meet?"

Viktor didn't answer immediately. He looked out at the river, his massive hands resting on his knees.

"You know, we could have had this conversation in a more comfortable place," Kyle said.

Viktor raised a brow. "You vant to be seen vith Viktor in public?"

"Of course. Aren't we in public right now?" Kyle said with a wink.

Viktor's grin returned, but it was different—less predatory, more confused. "You are not normal, Kyle."

"Neither are you but you don't see me complaining."

Kyle meant it. He had learned that no one was born evil. Viktor might very well be beyond redemption—the things he had done, the lives he had taken—but the loyalty he showed Marcello was proof that even he could be controlled. That even he had a code.

"And the split personality. That's not normal. Something must have happened to him. Something that broke him."

"You are target," Viktor said, his voice low. "I keep eye on you."

"I figured. But you've been out of sight until now. So why reveal yourself?"

Viktor opened his mouth, but Kyle cut him off.

"Is that so? How about we get something to eat? I'm starving."

Viktor blinked. "You vant to eat vith Viktor?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Kyle knew he was immune to harm. The Don had seen to that as long as he possessed this information and judging by how Viktor spoke, it was clear he had no idea about Maya.

There was no reason not to understand his enemy. And Viktor, for some very strange reason, seemed different.

Not softer, not safer but different.

Viktor studied him for a long moment. Then he stood, his massive frame towering over the bench.

"You are strange," he said again. "But Viktor likes strange."

Kyle stood beside him. "Good. Because I know a place. Best full English in London."

Viktor's grin returned—wide, metal, almost warm. "Lead the vay."

-

Kyle didn't hail a cab because there was no need to rush this meeting with the Butcher as he might not get this opportunity again.

He could have. It would have been faster, and easier. But he had no reason to hide. This was a new country—one he had no intention of staying in long-term. Ninety-nine percent of the people he passed on these streets would never see him again. Their opinions didn't matter, their stares didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the moment.

So why not walk?

He started down the pavement, his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. Viktor fell into step beside him, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the afternoon light. The contrast between them was stark enough to turn heads.

Kyle was tall, lean, well-dressed in dark jeans and a fitted jacket that probably cost more than most people's yearly rent.

He moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never needed to prove himself—someone who simply belonged wherever he stood.

Viktor was the opposite. Massive, bald, and scarred. His face was a roadmap of violence, and his metal teeth glinted when he grinned, which he did often and without warmth. He looked like he had crawled out of a nightmare and decided to stay.

People noticed.

A woman pushing a pram slowed her pace, her eyes darting between them before she pulled her child closer. A group of teenagers parted like water around a stone, their laughter dying in their throats. An elderly man clutching a briefcase crossed the street without looking both ways.

But something shifted as they kept walking.

Kyle's presence changed the perception. He was so put together, so obviously successful, that the association began to work in Viktor's favor. People's eyes flickered from Viktor's scarred face to Kyle's calm demeanor, and the conclusion was inevitable.

"Bodyguard," they must have thought. "Or a heavily tattooed model. He can't be a threat—look at who he's with."

The fear faded into curiosity. The stares lingered, but they were no longer hostile. A few people even smiled—nervous smiles, but smiles nonetheless.

Kyle noticed but he didn't comment.

Viktor noticed too. His metal teeth caught the light as he grinned.

"You are not afraid," Viktor said.

"Should I be?"

"Most people vould be."

Kyle shrugged. "I'm not most people. Heck, I'm probably more dangerous than you right now,"

They walked in silence for another block. The café Anthony had taken him to came into view—the one with mismatched chairs and sticky menus and bacon that had been frying since the seventies. Kyle had liked it then. He liked it now.

"This is it," Kyle said.

Viktor looked at the building. His expression was unreadable. "This is... your place?"

"Not mine. Just a place I like."

"This is family place."

"Hey, isn't your whole thing about family?"

Viktor grunted and followed him inside.

The café was half-empty. A few regulars at the counter. A couple in the corner. The same elderly woman who had been there before, nursing a cup of tea like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

The moment Viktor walked through the door, the atmosphere shifted.

The regulars at the counter froze mid-bite. The couple in the corner stopped talking. The elderly woman's teacup paused halfway to her lips. Even the cook behind the counter looked up, his spatula suspended in mid-air.

Viktor didn't give a fuck.

He scanned the room with cold, disinterested eyes—not looking for threats, just cataloging faces. His massive frame seemed to fill the narrow space. His presence was like a storm cloud rolling into a clear sky, heavy and inevitable.

Kyle walked to the same booth he had shared with Anthony and slid in. The worn leather creaked beneath him. Viktor sat across from him. The bench groaned under his weight, protesting loudly.

The waitress approached slowly, her smile strained. She was young, maybe twenty-two, with a ponytail and a notepad clutched to her chest like a shield.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"Full English for me," Kyle said. "Extra bacon. And tea."

He looked at Viktor.

Viktor's eyes met his. For a moment, something flickered in that cold gaze—something Kyle couldn't read. Recognition, maybe. Or memory.

"I vill have same," Viktor said. "And coffee. Black."

The waitress nodded and hurried away, visibly relieved to escape.

Kyle leaned back, studying Viktor. The massive Russian was looking at him with an intensity that felt almost intimate. Like he was searching for something hidden beneath the surface.

"What are you looking for?" Kyle could tell this visit felt personal.

"I am vondering," Viktor said, his voice low, "vhy you are not afraid."

"I told you. I'm not most people."

"Everyone is afraid. Even Viktor. Especially Viktor." He paused. "But you... you are different."

Kyle didn't respond. He just held Viktor's gaze, letting the silence stretch between them but what Viktor said got his attention. He just admitted he was scared of himself.

Outside, London hummed with life. Inside, two men sat across from each other, each trying to understand the other.

And in Viktor's mind, the itch grew stronger.