"Boss," Alexei says calmly. "You need to see this."
He's standing over the first body. But it's not the corpse that has his attention—it's what's he’s just pulled from the man’s pocket.
A photograph. My blood turns to ice.
Hannah. Smiling at the camera, unaware she's being watched. The photo was taken recently, maybe yesterday, somewhere on my estate grounds.
"They were watching the house," I say quietly.
"Watching her," Alexei corrects.
Hannah is in danger because of me. Because I brought her into this world. She’s collateral. That’s all anyone is supposed to know. Nobody knows about—us.
Except they must. There’s no other reason someone would be trying to take her out.
"We need to go," I tell Alexei, pocketing the photograph. "Now."
The drive back to the estate passes in grim silence, both of us processing what just happened. Someone set me up to die tonight.
The obvious would be Lev. But he's not connected. He doesn't have the kind of money it takes to pay professionals.
My mind goes to darker places. Bogdan gave me the location. Bogdan's intelligence said Lev would be there, waiting to talk.
But that's insane. Bogdan is family. We grew up together, trained together, built this organization together. He has nothing to gain from my death—Radimir would take over, not him. Unless...
No. I'm being paranoid. Bogdan has been loyal for twenty years. He wouldn't betray me over wounded pride or old resentments.
Would he?
I push the thought away, but it lodges somewhere in the back of my mind like a splinter I can't quite reach.
Richard, then. Did he think he could kill me and get his daughter back? Maybe that's what the photo was about. Lure me away and snatch her from the estate.
It doesn't make sense—Richard has no connections to hire professionals, no resources to coordinate an ambush. But the alternative means suspecting my own blood.
And I'm not ready to go there. Not yet.
By the time we reach the estate, it's nearly midnight. The house is quiet, most of the staff asleep, security making their regular rounds. Normal, peaceful, the kind of domestic tranquility I've spent five years building for my daughter.
"I'll coordinate with security," Alexei says as we park. "Make sure they know about potential threats."
"Double the perimeter watch. No one gets on the grounds without my personal authorization."
He nods once. “Got it.”
Inside the house, I check on Mila first—a habit so ingrained I barely think about it anymore. She's fast asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow.
Even in sleep, my daughter looks peaceful, protected, unaware of the violence that constantly threatens to breach our carefully constructed sanctuary.
I pull her blanket up higher and press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her favorite bubble bath and strawberry shampoo.
The hallway is dim as I make my way toward the guest wing, my feet carrying me to Hannah's door before my conscious minddecides to go there. I stand outside and try to reconcile the woman inside with what happened tonight.
Did her father try to kill me?
The thought circles in my mind like a predator. Everyone I care about becomes a target. Even if I convinced her to stay under her own free will, she would always be in danger. I could kill her father and keep her, but that would make my feelings clear.
It’s too dangerous.
