Chapter 32 : The Royal Observation
Viktor's POV
Portland's skyline spread beneath Viktor's penthouse like a board game waiting for the right player. The American city lacked Vienna's elegance, Paris's culture, even Berlin's grim efficiency. It was useful, nothing more—a staging ground for larger ambitions.
The report lay open on his desk, annotated in his assistant's precise handwriting. The Verrat surveillance team had done acceptable work, given the circumstances.
Subject survived initial Reaper engagement. Injuries sustained: significant. Survival method: unexpected tactical innovation. Assessment: Subject demonstrates adaptive capabilities beyond standard Grimm parameters.
Viktor sipped brandy and considered the implications.
The Siegbarste enforcer's death had been annoying. Good Siegbarstes were difficult to acquire, and the one he'd sent to Portland had been particularly effective. That a Grimm barely a month into his awakening had destroyed such an asset spoke to either remarkable luck or remarkable capability.
The subsequent Reaper engagement suggested capability. The young Grimm—Damian Cross, according to the documentation—had prepared traps, coordinated allies, and escaped when the traps failed. Not through combat prowess, but through adaptability.
"Sir." His assistant entered with a secure phone. "The European Council requests an update."
"Tell them the Reapers are proceeding. The Grimm will be dead within the week."
"And if he isn't?"
Viktor set down his brandy. The question deserved consideration rather than dismissal.
The Reapers were good—der Scharfrichter and der Richter had never failed to eliminate their targets. But this Grimm was... different. He worked with Wesen rather than hunting them. He'd acquired abilities that no Grimm should possess. He'd even compromised the Hexenbiest Schade, turning a Royal asset into a personal ally.
"If he survives," Viktor said slowly, "he becomes more interesting than dangerous."
"Sir?"
"A Grimm who can survive the Reapers might survive other things. A Grimm who builds alliances might be... useful." He retrieved the phone. "I'll make the call myself."
The connection to Captain Renard's private line was secure—encrypted, routed through seven intermediary stations, impossible to trace. The bastard prince answered on the third ring.
"Viktor."
"Captain." Viktor kept his tone carefully neutral. "I understand you've been watching our mutual interest."
"The Grimm? He's proven entertaining." Renard's voice held calculated detachment. "Your Reapers are hunting him as we speak."
"Yes. They're confident of success." Viktor paused. "I'm less certain."
"Oh?"
"The Grimm has demonstrated unexpected resilience. If he survives this week—if the Reapers somehow fail—I want him approached. Offered protection, resources, whatever it takes to bring him into our sphere."
Silence on the line. Renard was calculating, as always. The bastard captain had his own ambitions, his own plans for Portland. A tamed Grimm would serve those plans as well as Viktor's.
"And if he refuses?"
"Then we revisit the elimination option. But a cooperative Grimm is more valuable than a dead one." Viktor watched the city lights flicker below. "Especially one who's already built networks we can exploit."
"I'll approach him if he survives." Renard's tone shifted—agreement wrapped in private calculations. "But the Reapers rarely fail."
"No. They don't." Viktor ended the call without farewell.
The next report on his desk concerned something more important than any Grimm: the Coins of Zakynthos.
Intelligence suggested the young Grimm had acquired them somehow—stolen from the Royal shipment, apparently. The coins were currently secured somewhere in Portland, location unknown. Three ancient artifacts of immense power, lost to the Royal families for decades, now in the hands of someone who probably didn't understand their full potential.
Viktor understood.
His grandfather had used the coins to start three wars and topple two governments. The power to command, to inspire fanatical loyalty, to bend minds toward any cause—such power was worth more than any single Grimm, any dozen Grimms.
"Send a Verrat recovery team." Viktor spoke to his assistant without looking up. "Priority objective: locate and acquire the Coins of Zakynthos. Secondary objective: eliminate any obstacles to acquisition."
"The Grimm?"
"Is a secondary objective. The coins matter more." Viktor finished his brandy. "If the Grimm dies, the coins can be recovered from wherever he's hidden them. If he lives, he can be convinced to surrender them. Either outcome is acceptable."
"And if the coins have been destroyed?"
The question was impertinent. Viktor answered anyway.
"They can't be destroyed. They've survived for two thousand years, passed through a hundred hands, corrupted everyone who held them for too long." He smiled without warmth. "They're waiting for someone strong enough to wield them properly."
The Verrat team would deploy within hours. Six operatives, specialists in location and recovery, equipped with the resources to search an entire city if necessary.
The Grimm was a piece on the board—useful if captured, acceptable if sacrificed. The coins were the prize.
Viktor watched Portland's lights until midnight, calculating moves and countermoves. The Reapers would force their confrontation soon. The Grimm would fight or die. The coins would be recovered.
And Viktor would be one step closer to reclaiming what his grandfather had lost.
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