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I check my watch and stand. I was supposed to check on my wife an hour ago.

Luciano gives a short nod as I leave. I walk toward the car, phone already in hand. I’m about to call Aurora when it starts ringing. Maxim’s name lights up the screen.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“How’d the meeting go?” he asks without preamble.

“Same as the others. No real leads. Luciano’s people haven’t heard anything useful either. Whoever’s behind this is staying quiet.”

Maxim is silent for a second. “You sure you don’t want me back in Chicago?”

“No. Stay in Florida and finish tying things up there. I need that side clean before you move.”

“Florida side is almost wrapped,” Maxim says.

“Good. Keep it moving.”

There’s a short pause on the line. “So what are you going to do about the attacks?” he asks.

I pull my free hand across my face and let out a sigh. “Think I might need a different approach. Someone’s clearly feeding them information from inside.”

Maxim is quiet for a moment. “You thinking it’s one of ours?”

“I’m thinking I haven’t dug deep enough yet.”

I hear Maxim swear under his breath. “Fuck.”

He knows exactly what it means if the attacker has someone on the inside. Or worse, if the traitor is already one of us.

“How’s Aurora holding up?”

“She’s strong. Better than most would be after what happened.” I can hear the edge in my own voice when I add, “I’m fucking tired of not knowing who this is, Maxim. Someone’s leaking intel, and I need to find out whoever it is.”

Maxim is quiet again, longer this time.

“Something’s been bothering me,” he says. “The first attack at the gala, we all assumed it was aimed at you. But the second time, when they went after her with the needle, you weren’t even there. She’s the one common factor in both. What if this isn’t about taking you out? What if someone’s specifically going after your wife?”

I stop walking. Both times Aurora was the one in the line of fire. The shooter at the gala could have been aiming for me or her, but the second attack was deliberate, targeted, and personal. Someone wants her hurt.

“Fuck. You’re right.”

“I think you need to be focused on Aurora’s safety as well.”

“I already doubled security at the estate,” I tell him, but even as I say it, a cold, restless feeling settles under my ribs. Something feels off.

“I need to call you back,” I say. “I was supposed to check on her earlier. The meeting ran long.”

I end the call with Maxim and immediately dial Aurora’s number as I reach the car. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. Then it goes to voicemail.

I call again. Same result. Something tightens in my chest. I dial the main house line. No one answers. I try Dimitri. It rings out and dumps to voicemail.

I know immediately that something is wrong. “Turn the car around,” I tell the driver. “Estate. Now.”

“Sergei, when was the last time you heard from the guards on duty at the estate?” I ask Sergei, who’s in the front passenger seat working his own phone.

“They report back every half hour, and the last update was an hour ago.”

I can hear the tension in his voice. He feels it too. Something is wrong. The car swings into traffic. I keep calling. The gate guards, the men on rotation inside the grounds, the house staff. Every single one goes unanswered. Voicemail after voicemail.