Pavel's face goes white. "I never—I mean, I don't?—"
"Let's try again." I move to stand just a few inches in front of him. "Someone with considerable skill has been manipulating our financial systems. Someone who knows our security protocols, our account structures, our transfer procedures. Someone exactly like you."
"Please, I swear I didn't?—"
"Bogdan found evidence of your involvement on your personal computer," I continue, cutting through his protests. "Transaction logs, account passwords, communication with offshore banks. Very thorough evidence."
I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m going to assume Bogdan found something. I’m bluffing.
Pavel's eyes widen in what looks like genuine confusion. "That's impossible. I never—someone must have planted?—"
He stops mid-sentence, understanding dawning in his eyes. Too late, but he's finally grasping the full scope of his situation.
"You're being framed," I say quietly. "Just like Richard Quinn. The question is, by whom?"
"I don't know!" The words explode out of him. "I work freelance, I do legitimate consulting work. I've never stolen anything from anyone, I swear!"
I study his face, looking for tells. The fear is real. The confusion seems genuine. Alexei's words echo in my mind: The money trail is too clean, too obvious.
Pavel could be useful. If he's really a computer expert, he might be able to trace the real source of the theft. I open my mouth to offer him a deal?—
"Finish it," Bogdan says from behind me. I'd almost forgotten he was there, watching from the shadows. "We don't have time for games. The council expects swift justice."
I hesitate. Something about this feels wrong. But Bogdan is watching, and word travels fast in our organization. If I show doubt now, if I appear weak or indecisive, it will get back to Radimir. To the elders. To everyone who's been waiting for me to prove I'm not fit to lead.
"Wait!" Pavel throws up his hands. "I can help you find who really did this! I can trace the real source!"
"He's lying," Bogdan says smoothly. "Buying time. You know how this works, cousin."
I do know. That's the problem. I know exactly how this works—how convenient scapegoats appear when someone needs to cover their tracks. But I can't voice that suspicion. Not here. Not with Bogdan's eyes boring into my back.
Later, I tell myself. Alexei is still investigating. I'll find the truth another way.
I raise the gun. Pavel's eyes go wide with betrayal—he knows I don't fully believe he's guilty.
I pull the trigger anyway. Because in front of Bogdan, I have no other choice. Pavel crumples to the floor, his protests cut off mid-sentence.
I step back and check my shirt.
I shouldn’t have stood so close. I’ll have to change before we go.
"Clean this up," I tell Bogdan.
"What do you want me to tell the family?" Bogdan asks.
"I don’t give a shit what you tell them. If they have a problem with me, they are free to tell me.”
Bogdan smirks.
I head upstairs, slipping into the narrow corridor that leads to my room without requiring me to move through the main hallway. It’s not exactly a secret passage, but it is an escape route should I ever need it. The panic room is down here. Mila knows where it is. Her handprint will open the door should there ever be a reason to need it.
I pray that reason never happens.
I slip into my bedroom and take off the blood-spattered clothes. I leave them in a heap to be disposed of later. My staff is very aware of things that happen. They may never witness it with their own eyes, but the housekeeper will understand the clothes go to the burn pit—not the laundry.
11
HANNAH
