Grigor stepped forward, his expression grim. “We need to consider the possibility that this is a trap.”
“It’s always a trap,” Katya said, turning from the window.”The question is, have we prepared for it?”
“I think this is going to work,” Roman said confidently. “We have the element of surprise. They think they’re getting a broken, frightened agent. They’re not. They’re getting a small but mighty Trojan horse.”
His eyes met mine, and I felt a surge of confidence, a fierce, unwavering belief in this plan, in us.
I was no longer a pawn in their game. I was a player.
And I was ready to make my move.
“Alright,” I said, my voice a firm, steady declaration. “Let’s get ready for war.”
CHAPTER 24
Kara
Well.
Here goes nothing.
Just before six p.m., I stood on the pavement outside a skyscraper that stabbed into the sky, its mirrored surface throwing back the skyline. ARCHEON’s headquarters, or at least one of them. There was no sign outside the door, no name, just a clean façade and a hundred security cameras that pretended not to see you.
The sun had set an hour or so ago, and the city had come alive. Roman stood beside me. To anyone else, he looked like another billionaire on business. To me, he looked like a loaded gun.
The mirrored glass doors hissed open. Three men in black suits stepped out. No logos, no insignia, but I knew who they were. I’d seen them before. They were ARCHEON operatives. One of them checked a small tablet, his expression all business.
“Ms. Lennox,” he said. “Mr. Markov. This way.”
I felt Roman’s hand brush my lower back. Then it was gone in the next blink of an eye before he lightly shoved me forward. I feigned a gasp and stumbled, knowing it was all a part of the ruse that I was the Markovs’ captive and they were just handing me over in exchange for Lev.
We followed them through the marble atrium. The air inside smelled like disinfectant and money. Every surface gleamed, all white marble, chrome fixtures, and glass walls. It was too clean, too perfect. It was the kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.
The elevator ride up was silent. I could see our reflections in the mirrored walls, my face pale but composed, Roman’s jaw tight, his hand flexing once at his side. The men flanked us, weapons hidden under their tailored jackets. My pulse drummed in my ears.
When the doors opened, I took a deep breath.
We were all the way at the top of the building.
They led us through a corridor lined with glass offices, each one filled with identical desks and identical people pretending not to look at us. The hum of technology was a constant buzz.
At the end of the hall stood a pair of double doors made of frosted glass. One of the men pressed his hand to a scanner. The locks disengaged with a hiss.
“Inside,” he said.
Roman went first. I followed.
The office we walked into was enormous. It looked more like a gallery than a workspace with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawl of the city, with abstract art on the walls and a single desk made of black glass at the center. Behind it sat the man himself.
The vice president of ARCHEON.
He was in his forties, maybe, dressed in a luxurious designer suit, his skin pale against the black fabric. His hair was close-cropped and peppered with gray. His eyes were empty, though. Not cruel, not kind. Just empty. From what I knew of him, he was the kind of man who didn’t see people, only outcomes. A sociopath.
He rose as we entered, a polite smile flickering across his lips. “Mr. Markov. Ms. Lennox. How pleasant of you to join us.” His British accent almost made his words feel welcoming.
Roman’s voice was smooth, clipped, controlled. “You have something that belongs to me.”
“Indeed.” The man’s gaze slid over me before returning to Roman. “And you seem to have been playing with something that belongs to us for a bit too long.”
