This, I'm good at. This, I understand.
A black SUV pulls up to the main entrance. Two men get out, scanning the area before opening the back door. A third man emerges—a Chinese businessman in an expensive suit, carrying a briefcase.
This must be the syndicate meeting.
"Wait," I murmur into the comm.
We watch as the Chinese delegation enters the warehouse. More waiting. I watch for Sergei to arrive, coiled and ready in case of anything going wrong.
Minutes tick by. "Where is he?" one of my men whispers.
"Patience," I murmur, but unease is starting to creep in. Sergei should be here by now.
Kazimir's phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns, then his face goes pale.
"Ilya," he says, voice tight.
"What?"
He shows me the screen. It’s a text from an unknown number:Did you really think I wouldn't know? You're getting predictable, Sorokov.
Ice floods my veins.
Before I can process it, Kazimir's phone rings. He answers, putting it on speaker, keeping the volume low.
"Hello, Ilya." It’s Sergei's voice, smug and amused. "Enjoying the view?"
"Where are you?" I demand, my mind racing through possibilities as a horrible realization starts to dawn.
"Not there, obviously." Sergei laughs, and the sound makes my blood run cold. "Yoursourcetold me everything. Your plan, your teams, your timing. I've known for days."
"This is a decoy," Kazimir says, his voice flat.
"Very good. The Chinese delegation is real—they're actually here to meet with my people. But me? I had more important business to attend to."
My jaw tightens, my blood humming with adrenaline as fear builds within my veins.No. No, no, no, no!
"You see, Ilya, you've been so focused on me, so obsessed with this little conversation that you want to have with me, that you left something very valuable unprotected." Sergei's voice drops, becomes almost gentle. "Or should I say someone?"
The world tilts. My heart stops, then starts again, pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my temples, in every nerve ending.
"If you touch her—" I start, but Sergei cuts me off.
"You'll what? You're miles away, Ilya. And your men at the penthouse... well, they were good. But mine were better."
I'm moving before I consciously decide to, running back toward the cars, Kazimir and the others scrambling to follow.
"All teams, back to the cars!" I shout into the comm. "Get back to the penthouse, now!"
I'm dialing Dimitri’s number as I run, my fingers shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. It rings. And rings. And rings.
No answer.
"Faster!" I shout at Kazimir as we reach the cars. He's already behind the wheel, engine roaring to life before I've fully closed the door.
The drive back is a blur of speed, my terror building with every mile that passes. I keep calling, keep getting nothing, and with each unanswered ring, the panic grows until it's a living thing inside me, clawing at my lungs, my heart, my sanity.
This can't be happening. Not again. Not Mara.
