Looks at us with an expression I've learned to read as incoming trouble. Big trouble. The kind that changes everything.
"Luan is here," he says flatly. "Wants to see us."
My good mood evaporates like steam. "That’s never a good thing."
"Luan Krasniqi?" Victoria asks, recognition clear in her voice. "The Albanian's son?"
I deflect before anyone can explain that Luan was the one who exposed her connection to Eryan Nis yesterday. That conversation can wait for another time. No need to complicate this morning more than it's already becoming.
"We'll handle it," I tell her, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. "Stay here. Finish breakfast. This shouldn't take long."
The three of us leave her in the kitchen and move through the house to the lobby. Our footsteps echo on marble floors. The warmth of the kitchen fades behind us, replaced by the cooler air of the formal spaces.
Luan is already waiting when we arrive. Standing in the center of the lobby with his hands in his pockets. His expression is carefully blank. Neutral in a way that makes every instinct I have scream warning.
When someone works that hard to show nothing, it means they're hiding something big.
We don't speak. Just head toward Maksim's office in tense silence.
Take up our usual positions. Maksim behind his desk, the power position. Zakhar and I flanking him, standing while Luan takes the chair across from Maksim. The arrangement deliberate. Practiced. A show of unity and strength.
"Two days in a row," Maksim says, voice carefully flat. "This must be important."
"My timeline accelerated." Luan reaches into his jacket pocket slowly. Pulls out an envelope. Hands it across the desk to Maksim with steady hands.
Maksim opens the envelope with precise movements. Pulls out what looks like tickets. Four of them. Heavy cardstock with elegant printing.
"Opening night ofLa Bohème," Luan says before Maksim can ask the obvious question. "Tonight. Lyric Opera House. Black tie event. Everyone who is anyone in Chicago will be there. Politicians. Business leaders. Society families. The cameras will be everywhere."
He pauses. Leans forward slightly in his chair. His voice drops lower. More intense.
"It is very important that you are all seen there. All of you. All night. Very visible. Very public. Very documented."
The emphasis on his last words drops into the room like a stone into still water. Cold. Heavy. Undeniable. Rippling outward with implications.
We all catch his meaning immediately.
Something's going down tonight. Big. The kind of operation that requires us to have an ironclad alibi. To be above suspicion.Surrounded by witnesses who can testify under oath that we were nowhere near wherever the real action happens.
"I understand," Maksim says quietly. His voice carries layers of meaning. Acceptance. Agreement. Acknowledgment of what's being asked without saying it explicitly.
Luan nods once. Sharp. Definitive. Stands from his chair and buttons his jacket with precise movements that speak of nerves he's working hard to conceal.
Heads for the door with purposeful strides.
"Good luck," Maksim says as Luan reaches for the handle.
Luan pauses. Looks back over his shoulder. His expression flickers for just a moment. Gratitude. Fear. Determination. A complex mix of emotions that humanizes him in a way I haven't seen before.
"Thank you," he says. Simple. Sincere. Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
The three of us sit in heavy silence for a long moment. Processing. Considering implications. Running through scenarios of what might happen tonight and how it could affect us.
"Well," I finally say, breaking the quiet. "There goes our peaceful morning."
36
VICTORIA
