One name that keeps appearing just out of frame.
Viktor Malenkov.
My stomach tightens—not fear.
Confirmation.
The watcher wasn’t sent to hurt me.
He was sent toconfirm access.
To see how close I was to Ronan.
To test response times. Security gaps. Patterns.
I save everything.
Encrypt.
Duplicate.
Then I stand and walk downstairs.
Ronan looks up instantly.
“You found something,” he says.
“I know who watched me,” I answer.
The room goes still.
I hand him the tablet.
He scans fast. Too fast. Absorbing everything in seconds.
“Ilya Markovic,” he reads. “Scout. Asset confirmer.”
“Yes,” I say. “He wasn’t there to kill me.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “He was there to see how hard it would be.”
“And how fast you’d react,” I add. “He wanted to know if I was bait—or leverage.”
Ronan hands the tablet to Aaron, who swears softly.
“That puts Malenkov three steps ahead,” Aaron says.
“No,” I correct calmly. “It puts himbehind.”
Ronan looks at me sharply. “Explain.”
“He didn’t send someone expendable,” I say. “He sent someone careful. Which means he’s not ready to lose me yet.”
Silence follows.
Then Ronan exhales slowly.
“He’s shifting targets,” he says.
