I walk forward with Lily, past the doors and into the room. Conversations dip. People look. No one smiles.
Selene sticks close as we cross into the main room, her eyes always moving, never quite settling on any one face for long. She keeps her voice low.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Not really,” I say. “What’s Irina’s problem with all this? Why is she holding us here?”
Selene hesitates, glancing around like someone might be listening. “It’s…complicated. She has a lot of history with certain people. That’s all I can say.”
I catch her meaning. “You mean with Aleksander?”
Selene gives the smallest nod, cautious. “Yeah. She’s got a grudge, that’s for sure. She doesn’t talk about it with anyone she doesn’t have to.”
I glance at Irina on the far side of the room, talking to a group of men in dark suits. She doesn’t look back.
I shake my head, almost laughing. “She thinks he’s going to come storming in here for me? She’s crazy. I’m not that important to him. I doubt he even knows where I am, or cares.”
Selene shrugs, careful with her words. “You’d be surprised what people will do when they feel like something’s been taken from them. Especially here.”
I roll my eyes. “If she’s waiting for a rescue, she’ll be waiting a long time.”
Selene steers me toward the edge of the room, away from the center, her hand light but firm at my elbow. I notice the people watching us as we move.
They don’t look like what I expected. No obvious bodyguards, no leather jackets or crude intimidation. These people are polished. Expensive watches. Tailored suits.
But I know now. Looks can be deceiving.
My stomach knots tighter with every step.
Who the hell has Aleksander pissed off enough to field this kind of opposition?
Irina leads the party into the main sitting room—a cavernous space with soaring windows, velvet drapes, and a marble fireplace big enough to stand in. A dozen of the staff are already assembled, standing in loose formation like they’ve been drilled for this moment. They turn toward her as one.
Irina stops in the center of the room, her back straight, voice carrying without effort.
“Listen carefully,” she says in crisp, accented English. “When Aleksander Antonov walks through those doors—and he will walk through those doors—anyone who puts him in the ground earns my personal favor.”
A ripple goes through the room.
“My protection,” she continues, cool and calm. “My gratitude. A clean slate, no matter your history. And a transfer of ten million euros by morning.”
The words hit me like ice water.
I feel the blood drain from my face. My grip on Lily’s hand tightens so hard she whimpers.
They’re not protecting us.
They’re baiting him.
I’m the bait.
Irina knew he’d come the second he realized we were taken. She’s counting on it. She wants him dead, and she’s willing to use a woman and child as bait to do it.
One of the men near the window gives a small, satisfied nod. The woman with the roses sets the vase down gently, then slips her hand inside her blazer—checking a weapon, I realize.
Lily looks up at me, confused. “Mama? Why is everyone quiet?”
I can’t answer her. My throat is frozen.
