The next morning, Pavel enters my office without knocking, jaw set in a way I’ve learned to read as bad news. He drops a thin folder on my desk, the weight of it heavier than the paper suggests. I close my laptop, fingers laced together, and nod for him to speak.
“It’s the girl. Sera Hale.” His tone is careful, but there’s something sharp beneath. “We got confirmation that her firm’s been handling secondary accounts linked to Sharov Corp. She’s the one who flagged the irregularities, Boss. She’s been digging.”
I feel the chill before I let it show. “How deep?”
Pavel shrugs, eyes flicking to the city skyline. “Deep enough to set off alarms. She’s flagged half a dozen holding companies, cross-referenced routing numbers, even found one of our old shells in the Caymans. She knows how to connect dots most people don’t see. And…” He hesitates, glancing down at his phone. “Our guy inside the company says she’s been contacted. FBI, probably organized crime division.”
For a heartbeat, the room sharpens, every sound amplified. I tap the folder, weighing my options. Most in my position wouldn’t hesitate; they’d move fast, burn the threat down to ash. The Bratva has rules for this sort of thing. Nobody snoops. Nobody lives who’s spoken to the feds.
I only grin.
The tension in Pavel’s posture deepens. “Boss, this isn’t a joke. If the feds are sniffing around—”
I cut him off with a raised hand. “She’s not a rat. Not yet. The Bureau always circles, looking for leverage, but they don’t have anything concrete. They’re hoping she’ll bring them something. She hasn’t. She won’t.” I feel it in my gut—the difference between a woman who’s running and a woman who’s just curious.
Pavel doesn’t argue. He knows better than to question the lines I draw. “What do you want done?”
I lean back, stretching out in my chair, letting the city blur through the window behind him. My mind unspools the possibilities, tracing every outcome, every potential betrayal. For most, Sera would be an annoyance, an analyst too smart for her own good, a liability to be erased.
For me, she’s become something far more interesting. She’s leverage, a wild card, a test I can use to my advantage. Ifshe’s clever enough to dig, she’s clever enough to use. And if the FBI wants her, then I want her more.
“She’s spoken to the feds,” I muse aloud, letting the words taste like possibility. “That means they’ll be watching her. They’ll be waiting for her to bring them something real. She’s a threat, but she’s also insurance.”
Pavel’s frown deepens. “Insurance?”
“If we control her, we control what she knows. If she’s ours, she can’t hurt us. She can only hurt them.” My smile is cold. “She wanted to play with codes. Let’s see how she deciphers me.”
I close the folder and flick it back across the desk. “Keep our guy in place. I want eyes on every channel—her work, her home, her friends. If she tries to meet the feds, I want to know where and when. And tell the cleaners: hands off. For now, she’s protected.”
Pavel nods, but not without hesitation. “You trust her that much?”
“I don’t trust her at all,” I answer. “That’s why I want her close. Fear is a stronger leash than any threat. She needs to know just enough to understand who owns her fate.”
For a moment, I let myself imagine her—the panic tightening her throat when she realizes she’s not alone, that the shadow in her life has a face. A face she’s already danced with, a voice she’s already heard. She’ll look over her shoulder, check the locks, startle at every whisper. When the moment comes, her fear will have primed her for obedience.
I want to see it. I want to see the moment she connects all the pieces: the codes, the shadows, the eyes that never quite leave her. Not random, not coincidence. Me.
I press my thumb to the edge of my desk, already thinking two moves ahead. She’s sharp, but fear will dull the edge.
I’ll make her question herself. I’ll let her scramble for safety, run to the FBI, and when she realizes even they can’t protect her, she’ll have nowhere to turn but to me.
“Anything else?” I ask, still watching the city.
Pavel straightens. “You want us to put pressure on the Bureau’s guy? Scare him off?”
“No. Let them think they’re ahead. Let them wait for her to make the first move. We’ll be ready before they are. If they push too hard, well. You know what to do.”
He nods, expression shifting to one of grim respect. He leaves, soft-footed, closing the door behind him.
The silence that follows is delicious. I turn my chair toward the window, letting my thoughts spiral around her. Sera: so careful, so meticulous, yet still walking straight into my world. She wanted to see behind the curtain. She wanted the truth. Now she’s going to learn what truth really costs.
I imagine the way her face will fall when I finally reveal myself. I want to see shock, then understanding, then terror. I want her to know she’s been chosen, not by accident, not by fate, but because I decided it. The game she thinks she’s playing was mine from the beginning.
“She wanted to play with codes,” I murmur, voice low. “Let’s see how she deciphers me.”
I smile, slow and predatory. The day darkens outside, storm clouds rolling in from the river. All the better. Shadows make everything clearer.
I flick open my phone, composing the next string of encrypted text—this one more intimate, unmistakable, carrying the scent of a promise and a threat.
