The Crippled King

Ivanov’s eyes flicked briefly toward Rocco’s ruined knee.

“I want that leg disabled.”

Boris bowed once.

“Understood.”

Ivanov adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as if he had just finished a minor inconvenience.

He turned and began walking toward the stairs.

Rocco groaned behind him, breath shaking, blood soaking through his pant leg.

Ivanov reached the bottom step—

Then stopped.

For a moment