Then I hear footsteps.
Multiple sets, heavy boots on stairs. Men moving with urgency.
The door slams open.
Mikhail stands there, and one look at his face tells me everything I need to know.
Something went wrong.
"Up." His voice is hard. Furious. "Now."
I scramble to my feet. "What happened? Is Lev—"
"Alive. Upstairs. Move."
He doesn't touch me, just gestures sharply toward the stairs. I run up them on shaking legs, heart hammering so hard I taste blood.
The main floor is chaos. Men everywhere, some bleeding, all armed, voices raised in Russian I can't follow.
And in the center of it all is Lev.
Covered in blood. Face streaked with soot and gore. Exhausted and absolutely, devastatingly furious.
But alive.
Relief crashes over me so intense I nearly collapse.
He sees me. His expression doesn't change. Just watches me approach with those cold, dead eyes.
"It was a trap." Mikhail's voice cuts through. "Patrick wasn't there. He sent Rico Alvarez instead. His right-hand man."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"We killed Rico and twenty-three of his men. Burned the compound to the ground. Recovered weapons, cash, records." Mikhail's jaw clenches. "But Patrick wasn't fucking there. He knew. Somehow he knew this was a setup."
No. No no no—
"He sent his second-in-command to die while he disappeared." Lev's voice is flat. Empty. "Which means he didn't buy your performance on that call. Means he suspected you'd turned. Means he's out there right now, planning retaliation."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I thought he believed me…"
"So did I." Lev moves closer, and I see blood dripping from his knuckles, a gash on his forearm. "But apparently Patrick knows you better than I thought. Knows you are incapable of being truthful.”
The words are a knife.
"Maybe he heard it in your voice when you called me a monster. Maybe he knows you well enough to recognize a lie. Or maybe—" His eyes bore into mine. "—he's just smarter than both of us gave him credit for."
"W-What do we do?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
"We?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "There is no 'we,' Valerie. There's me cleaning up the mess you created. You're just—"
He stops. Jaw working like he's grinding teeth to powder.
Mikhail clears his throat. "Boss, what are your orders?"
Lev stares at me for a long moment. I see the calculations happening behind his eyes. The rage warring with something else I can't name.
"Triple security on the estate. No one in or out without my direct approval. Move Mila to the safe room until we neutralize the threat." He turns to Mikhail. "And get everyone out. I need the room."
