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They pick up on the second ring. “Mr. Antonov, good evening,” the executive says, all polished and bright. “How can we assist you today?”

“I need a jet,” I say. “Tonight, if possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. Same specs as last time. Destination will be sent to you through the usual channel.”

“Of course. That won’t be a problem,” she says. I can hear keys clicking in the background. “We’ll prioritize it. And again, we’re very sorry about the inconvenience on your last flight.”

I frown. “What inconvenience?”

“We’re sorry we couldn’t get you the upper-class suite,” she says. “It was a last-minute change request, and availability was limited. We did our best with what we had.”

I straighten. “What are you talking about?”

There’s a pause. “Pardon?”

“My private charter was cancelled because of the weather conditions,” I say slowly. “I didn’t make any requests for change.”

“Someone from your team must have,” she replies.

“No, that’s not possible,” I say.

Another pause, longer this time. I can almost hear her replaying her own words.

“I…don’t have that on my file,” she says finally. Her voice is tighter now. “The last record I see is a change from a charter booking to a commercial partner airline. Upper-class suite requested, confirmed. Maybe I’m…mixing up accounts. I’m so sorry, Mr. Antonov. Let me double-check and call you back.”

“Don’t,” I say.

I end the call.

For a second, I just stand there, staring at the blank screen, my reflection warped in the black glass.

Someone wanted me to end up on the plane that Kirov died in.

I stare at the phone like it might say something else if I look hard enough, but the facts don’t change.

My charter didn’t get cancelled because of weather.

Did they want Kirov dead and needed him trapped with me?

“Aleksander.”

I hear my name behind me and close my eyes for a second before I turn. Of course.

Selene is halfway down the corridor, heels quiet on the floor, hair perfect like she didn’t just spend the night in a hospital.

“I told you to stay away from Bella,” I say. I don’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice.

She presses her lips together. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m trying to help you.”

“I’m sorry if I don’t believe you,” I shoot back.

She stops in front of me, looks up, and doesn’t flinch. “I found something,” she says. “You’re going to want to hear it.”

I fold my arms. “Then talk.”

“So I snooped around and found Bella was discovered with a knife after she was attacked,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say warily, not sure where she’s going with this.

“I bribed the tech in forensics,” she says, like it’s just another errand. “Told him I needed preliminary notes before the report gets buried.”