“Remember what your brother’s intel said?”
Roman nodded.
“Baranov’s a single father. Treasures his son above everything.”
“Right.”
I shifted slightly in my seat.
“I used that.”
He looked at me now — fully attentive.
“Long story short — he agreed to let me move into the estate for a while.”
Roman’s brows lifted. “For what reason?”
“To help his ‘traumatized’ son.”
Silence filled the car for two seconds.
Then he exhaled slowly. “You’re telling me...”
His gaze flicked toward me.
“You just negotiated residency inside the most fortified criminal compound in California?”
“Correct.”
He let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
A beat. “Extremely Risky.”
“Strategic?” I allowed myself the faintest smile.
He nodded slowly — admiration mixed with concern.
I leaned my head back against the headrest.
“I took his private number. Told him I’d call when I’m ready to move in.”
Roman shot me a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road.
“Inside means access,” I continued. “Access means I can monitor everything — plant cameras in strategic rooms, tap communication lines, track movement patterns. His office. His security hub. Private spaces. We gather real evidence instead of relying on surveillance from the outside.”
Roman let out a slow exhale through his nose.
“It’s a golden opportunity.”
He paused. “But I’m worried.”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel again.
“What if it’s a trap? He agreed too fast. After one conversation.”
His jaw flexed. “Feels convenient.”
He glanced at me. “Too convenient.”
