Page 12 of Crystal Veil

“Renat,” I breathe, stepping closer. “If this is too much, ifI'mtoo much, just tell me. I need to know.”

The silence continues. Rain lashes against the windows with increasing fury, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles like an angry god. The storm outside seems to mirror whatever tempest is raging inside the man before me.

He finally turns, and the intensity in his eyes knocks the breath from my lungs. Those eyes that have looked at me with desire, tenderness, and possibly love now burn with something else entirely. Rage, carefully controlled but unmistakable. And beneath it appears to be pain.

“This isn't about the baby,” he states, his voice low and rough with emotion he's trying to suppress.

Relief floods through me, followed immediately by confusion. If not the pregnancy, then what is causing his anger? What has built this wall between us in the space of a few hours?

I search his face, looking for clues in the familiar landscape of his features. The strong jaw that I've traced with my fingertips. The mouth that has whispered Russian endearments against my skin. The slight scar above his left eyebrow that tells of violence survived. “Then what is it?”

He moves with dangerous fluidity to the bar cart in the corner. He finishes the glass in a single pull, the muscles in his neck tightening as he swallows. Then he sets it down with quiet finality, the crystal ringing softly against the silver tray.

“Sergey is the mole.”

The words strike like a cold slap, stunning the air from my lungs. My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn't among them. Sergey, who has been by Renat's side for years. Sergey, who has taken bullets meant for his boss. Sergey, whose loyalty seemed as unshakeable as the Miami bedrock.

“What?” The question comes out as an unsteady breath.

Renat begins to pace, like a drumbeat, before war. Each step is measured, but I can see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his composure. “He leaked the fake weapons shipment intel. Bennato's men hit an empty container last night exactly as I planned.”

My mind struggles to process the information. A fake weapons shipment as a test. A trap designed to flush out the traitor in their midst.

“Only two people knew about the location,” Renat continues, his voice deadly quiet. “Me and Sergey. And I found intercepted messages between him and Bianca.”

Bianca. The woman who came before me in Renat's life. The woman whose beauty and sophistication made me feel like a pretender in expensive clothes. The woman who wanted him back.

My legs give out, and I sink onto the leather couch behind me, my hands trembling as I grip the armrests. The room seems to tilt around me, reality shifting to accommodate this new information. “I don't understand...”

But even as I protest, pieces begin to fall into place. Sergey's lingering looks when he thought no one was watching. The way his jaw tightened whenever Bianca's name was mentioned. The tension that seemed to radiate from him whenever he was in the same room with both Renat and his former lover.

Renat's pacing continues, each step a study in controlled rage. His hands are clenched at his sides, the knuckles white with the force of his grip. “I've known something was wrong for a while. The timing of certain attacks. Information that seemed to leakno matter how carefully we planned. But this? This confirms it. He's working with Bennato. And Bianca.”

The betrayal cuts deep, and I can see it in every line of Renat's body. Sergey isn't just an employee or a subordinate. He's chosen family, bound by loyalty and bloodshed together. The violation of that trust is almost incomprehensible.

I lift my gaze to Renat, watching as he moves through the study like a man possessed. “I overheard them once. Sergey and Bianca.” The memory surfaces with painful clarity. A conversation I witnessed but didn't fully understand at the time. “I didn't tell you because I didn't know what it meant. The way he spoke to her...it was like she was his whole world.”

Renat stops pacing, his body going utterly still. When he looks at me, his eyes are sharp with interest and possibly hope. “You think he's in love with her?”

I nod slowly, remembering the desperate quality in Sergey's voice, the way his entire demeanor changed when Bianca was near. “I think he's been in love with her for a long time. Maybe from the beginning.”

Understanding dawns in Renat's expression, pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. His lips press into a thin line, and he nods once, sharp and decisive. “That explains his obsession. His resentment.”

The room feels darker now as if the truth has pulled a curtain across the light. The storm outside continues to rage, wind howling around the corners of the estate and rain hammering against the bulletproof glass. But the storm inside this room feels infinitely more dangerous.

I rise from the couch on unsteady legs and step toward him, drawn by an instinct I can’t name. The distance between us feels like an ocean, filled with the sting of betrayal and the promise of violence to come. “What are you going to do to him?”

He looks at me, and something in his eyes twists my heart. There's pain and fury but also a cold calculation that reveals plans already in motion. This is the man who built an empire through intelligence and ruthlessness, who survived in a world where weakness meant death.

“Nothing yet,” he replies, his voice laden with careful strategy. “I need him to think I haven't discovered his betrayal. I need him to lead me straight to Bennato and Bianca. I'll use him the way he tried to use me. And when I'm finished, there won't be a shadow left of what he used to be.”

My stomach churns, but it has nothing to do with pregnancy. The casual way he speaks of destruction, of using someone who was once loyal, reminds me of the darkness that lives at the heart of his world. The darkness that I've willingly entered by loving him.

But it's not fear that makes my hands shake. It's understanding. Because I know that in his position, faced with the same betrayal, I might make the same choices. The thought terrifies me more than any threat ever could.

Renat's voice drops, low and dangerous, carrying the promise of retribution. “This betrayal? It's personal. They used my trust, my loyalty, my affection for Bianca against me. And when it's over, they'll know exactly what it costs to cross me.”

The words settle like smoke, poisonous, and choking. I can see the future unfolding before us. Violence and blood, loyaltiestested and broken, the careful balance of power shifting like sand in an earthquake.