“We got the shooter. He came alone. He shot himself in the throat instead of saying anything.”
My fist hit the table in frustration.
“Whoever sent him must be high ranking,” he went on.
“And I’m supposed to celebrate you for figuring that out?” I spat, gazing up at him.
“That brings us to the findings we’ve been doing,” Mikhail pointed out.
“Yes, boss. First thing we’re sure of is that you’re not the target,” Dimitri added.
“Who is?”
The answer hit me with a harsh thud immediately after the question left my lips.
Emilia.
From the way Mikhail looked at Dimitri, who stood by the table, they knew I knew the answer to my question.
“We’ve been watching the Bratva rivals closely since the wedding, and none of them has made a move. It seems they are waiting for our guards to be down,” Mikhail explained.
“So these attacks are from where?” I asked impatiently.
“Romano’s rivals know his only daughter is now married to you. They also know that he owes the Bratva a large sum of money,” Dimitri disclosed.
“They have nothing to gain from killing her,’ I pointed out.
“They didn’t succeed. We can’t be sure they wanted her dead,” Mikhail answered.
I nodded. He was right.
“They might just want custody of her. Or, just proof to tell Romano they have the upper hand,” Dimitri mused. “Theonly reason they’ll want her dead is if they have come to know, somehow, that he wouldn’t take them seriously even if they seized her.”
“And they have no way to know that. The general opinion is that he has been trying to sort his debts, looking for the money to get his daughter back. They don’t know he hasn’t lifted a finger,” Mikhail divulged.
“We’re tracking the dialed contacts on the shooter’s phone. We’ll have our confirmation soon,” Dimitri revealed.
“Soon isn’t quick enough,” I replied. “I want this taken care of before it becomes something bigger.”
“We’ll get the answers, brother. And none of them will be spared,” Mikhail promised.
“You can leave,” I told them, sitting back into the leather chair.
“I hope she’s okay, boss?” Dimitri asked me.
I shrugged in a way that said, ‘I don’t know.’
“We’ll handle it, boss,” he assured before leaving the office.
“Who is she?” Mikhail questioned, a curious frown on his face.
“Emilia.”
The mere mention of her name made me feel weaker.
“Oh,” he commented. “You were there with her?”
“Yes.”
