I walk into Enzo Valerio’s office like I’m not screaming inside my own head.
He’s standing with his back to me, looking out floor-to-ceiling windows at the city I grew up in. The same city that chewed up Marco and spit him out in a prison morgue. The skylineglitters like broken glass, beautiful and sharp, and the man silhouetted against it looks like he owns every inch of it. He probably does, with how deep Valerio connections run in New York City.
I knew from photos he was tall, but seeing him in person hits different. He’s got to be six-three, maybe six-four. Dark hair silvering at the sides. Shoulders that fill out his tailored suit, tapering to a narrow waist in a way that probably makes omegas go stupid.
Not me, though. I know what he is. What he’s done.
My hand twitches toward the gun. I could do it right now. In three steps, I could put one in the back of his head before he even turns around. Watch his blood spray across those pretty windows.
But I didn’t spend six months building this cover just to die in his office without getting Sokolov too.
I can wait a little longer.
“Mr. DaCosta.” He turns, and I get my first real look at the man I’m going to kill.
Dark eyes like a demon. A face that might be handsome if it wasn’t so brutally cold, all sharp angles with the kind of bone structure that comes from generations of people who took what they wanted and buried anyone who objected. A scar cuts through his left eyebrow, old and faded, the only imperfection on an otherwise perfect mask.
His gaze sweeps over me once, quick and clinical. But something in it catches before he blinks it away.
My breath snags as something hot and unwanted crawls up my spine, but I shut that shit down immediately. Traitorous omega-reaction bullshit I don’t have time for.
He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Of course it doesn’t. Men like him don’t have real smiles.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I understand you have an impressive background in software and security systems.”
The file I built for David DaCosta is immaculate. Former military, dishonorable discharge for reasons that make me look dangerous but hirable. Three years in private security for corporations that ask questions last and pay well. References that will check out if not probed too deeply.
“I go where the work is,” I say calmly. The part I don’t mention is how I had a hand in his former security analyst’s resignation. Or how I gave the guy a fat payout to put in a recommendation for me and keep his mouth shut too.
“Ms. Esperanza mentioned you’ve had some concerns?”
“Concerns.” Valerio moves to his desk, and I track him like prey tracks a predator. Everything about him screams danger, from the way he moves to the weight of his attention when he looks at me. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it. Someone has been accessing our systems. Moving inventory that should stay still.”
“Internal or external threat?” I ask.
“That’s what I’m paying you to tell me.” He leans against his desk, arms crossed, and watches me carefully, making my pulse kick up a notch. “But between us? I think it’s internal.Someone close enough to know the systems. Smart enough to cover their tracks.”
Viktor Sokolov. He has to be talking about Sokolov.
Which means maybe, just maybe, Enzo doesn’t know his underboss framed an innocent man. Maybe Marco was just collateral damage in a power play between these two.
It doesn’t matter. Valerio runs this organization. He’s responsible for every fucking thing that happens under his watch. Marco’s blood is on his hands whether he held the weapon or not.
And as for Sokolov, it’s only a matter of time before I find whatever hole he crawled into. The bastard went dark two weeks ago, vanished like smoke. But I will find him. I just need to tap into Valerio’s communications, trace the connection.
“I’ll need full access,” I say. “Server rooms, personnel files, surveillance footage at Eclipse, all your warehouses, even your home, Mr. Valerio. Everything.”
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. His back straightens, dark eyes zeroing in on me.
“My home.”
“If the threat is internal, then yes.” I keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my veins. “Whoever’s doing this may have access to your personal systems too. Your home network, your private communications. We need to look everywhere.”
Valerio doesn’t respond immediately. He tilts his head to the side, gaze sharpening like a scalpel.
“You ask for a lot, Mr. DaCosta. Most men in your position start by asking what access I’m willing to give.” His voice is low and even, with an edge to it that tells me I’m about to either earn his respect or get fucking crushed if I don’t choose my next words carefully.
But I’ve prepared for this, prepared for every test and trap that will be thrown my way.
