My blood runs cold. “When?”
“Tuesday. He was there for three hours. Just watching.”
I flip through the other photos. Different locations. Different days. But the same pattern. Men watching my life.
“They’re building a profile,” Declan says. “Mapping your movements. Your routines. Looking for patterns.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“At least two weeks that we know of. Could be longer.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“We only connected the reports yesterday. Each informant gave us separate pieces. It took time to realize they were all seeing the same operation.”
I set down the photos. “What else?”
“Yesterday, one of them was in your neighborhood bar. Asked the bartender if you come in alone or if you bring anyone with you. Specifically asked about family.”
The word hits like a punch.
Family.
They know I have sons. They’re looking for vulnerabilities. For leverage.
“How much do they know?”
“Unknown. But they’re digging. And they’re being careful about it. Using different people for different locations. Keeping it quiet. This isn’t random curiosity. This is planned surveillance.”
I stand up and walk to the windows. The city spreads out below, millions of people living their lives with no idea what’s happening in the shadows.
The Petrovs have been quiet for six years. Since I killed Dmitri. Since his family swore vengeance and then did nothing.
Six years of silence. And now they’re moving again.
“Why now?” I ask.
“Could be they finally feel strong enough to retaliate. Could be they heard about your sons and see an opportunity. Could be something else entirely. We don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“I’m already on it. But, Cass, if they’re targeting your family?—”
“I know.” I turn back to face him. “Increase security on all my properties. Double the men on rotation. I want someone watching every entrance, every exit. And I want surveillance on anyone who gets within a block of my sons.”
“Done. What about the Vances?”
The question I’ve been dreading.
Aurelia and the boys are at the estate. Julian’s security is good, but if the Petrovs are planning something serious, good might not be enough.
I pull out my phone and call Julian.
He answers on the second ring. “Rourke.”
“We need to talk. Now. Are you at the office?”
“Home. Why?”
