Page 40

“Take whatever time you need. Just…” Alexei pauses, choosing his words with care. “Be careful. If the Blue Note is planning to move on us, they’ll be watching for this kind of approach.”

“I will,” I promise.

He claps me on the shoulder, the gesture both acknowledgment and dismissal, and turns down the corridor toward his office. I continue toward the front door, thoughts already on my next encounter with Orien and acutely aware of how the belief I can be both Lev and Lee is thinner than it was an hour ago.

Thinner than it was yesterday. It will be even thinner tomorrow, when I walk back into the Blue Note and into Orien’s orbit once more.

A loyal brother would turn around right now, go back to Alexei, and admit I’ve been compromised. But if I do, my brother will appear weak, and Uncle Mikhail will use it as leverage to push his plan to wipe out the Blue Note.

Any opposition must be eliminated.

The belief has been drilled into me since birth.

But the Blue Note isn’t the opposition, and I can’t convince myself to pretend otherwise. And I’m beginning to wonder why Mikhail is so intent on destroying it. What secret is he hiding?

I’m playing a dangerous game now, one that threatens far more than my mission at the Blue Note.

Because this has become about more than the family, or the Alpha waiting for me on Thursday.

It’s about the version of myself I become in Blue Note’s dim light. The Omega who kneels because he wants to, not because he has to.

It’s about Lee, who is both more and less real than the man who shares his face.

10

I’m still in pajama bottoms and a worn T-shirt when my phone rings, the sound cutting through the soft morning quiet of my apartment.

Coffee cools in a half-finished mug on my desk, the pale February light spilling across my small studio apartment in thin lines without adding much warmth to the space. It’s not quite seven, which is early for anyone familiar with my late hours, and I grab my phone with a scowl that vanishes the moment Orien’s name flashes on the screen.

My heart stutters in my chest. It’s the first time he’s called the number I gave him.

I answer on the second ring, my free hand going still around the mug. “Hey.”

“Come outside when I arrive,” Orien says, the words as spare as always.

I wait for more. There isn’t any.

“Should I be concerned about how you know where I live, stalker?”

His chuckle fills my ear. “Just come outside, trouble.”

I peer down at what I’m wearing. “How long do I have?”

“Twenty minutes.”

I want to push, to demand at least the courtesy of a destination or explanation, but the line goes dead before I decide whether I’m going to give in to the urge. I stare at the darkened screen, the call already gone from my notification center, and my jaw clenches around a protest that never quite forms.

That’s Orien, demanding without demanding, offering no option but to comply.

I set the phone down with deliberate care and tell myself the flutter in my chest is irritation at the presumption, and not at the memory of being left kneeling on cold tile while Orien zipped up his pants and walked out. Not at myself, for leaving through the side entrance instead of being an adult and going back out to the floor where I’m almost certain he was waiting.

And this…whatever it is, actually comes at a good time. I’m supposed to attend a family meeting this afternoon, and I’ve been putting off dealing with a routine report because they hadn’t liked the one I sent last night about the results, or lack of results, from the data crawler.

Chugging the last of my coffee, I take the fastest shower in existence, my mind racing through possibilities. Could this be my official invite into the crew? A test job for Rowan? Information he wants to pass along from his interrogation of my fake tip?

Or maybe⁠—

I shut the thought down before it can fully form, not letting myself hope for a moment that doesn’t include more spy work.