Thebaby.
My hands curl into fists on the desk, and I have to force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Control. I needcontrol.
Vera is resting upstairs. Dr. Petrov checked her thoroughly, ran every test, and did another ultrasound. She’s fine. The baby isfine. They’re both miraculously, impossibly fine. But that’s just luck. Dumb fucking luck that I swerved when I did, that the bomb hit the decoy car instead of ours, and that we were thrown clear before the flames reached us.
Next time, we might not be so lucky.
And there will be a next time. Whoever is behind these attacks won’t stop until we’re both in the ground with Alexei.
I pull out my list, reviewing it for the hundredth time.
Attack 1:Peace meeting ambush. Someone knew the exact location, timing, and security protocols. 0 fatalities
Attack 2:Car bomb. Someone knew our route, vehicles, and schedule. 2 fatalities.
But those aren’t the only incidents. I’ve been too focused on the major attacks to see the pattern of smaller ones.
August 20:Security breach at the east warehouse. Someone accessed our shipping manifests, but nothing was taken. Dismissed as opportunistic thieves.
August 28:Sabotaged shipment. Three crates of merchandise destroyed. Blamed on rival organization.
September 10:Meeting location leaked to the press. Had to relocate at the last minute. Blamed on loose lips.
Every single one required inside information. Someone in my organization is feeding intel to an enemy. It’s someone close enough to know schedules, routes, locations, which means it’s someone I trust.
Trust. That’s what this all comes down to. I’ve spent my entire life building this organization based on loyalty, on the ideathat we’re family, that we protect our own. And someone has betrayed that. They’ve sold us out.
I just don’t know who.
A knock on my door interrupts my spiral. “Come in.”
Konstantin enters, looking serious. He moves with the confidence of someone who’s survived forty years in this business and has seen everything and can’t be rattled but I see the concern in his dark eyes as they sweep over my face, taking in the damage.
“You look like death warmed over,” he observes, settling into the chair across from my desk.
“Feel like it too.” I gesture to the files spread before me. “We need to talk.”
He follows my gaze, taking in the maps and timelines and personnel files with the practiced eye of someone who’s done this analysis a thousand times. “You’ve been busy.”
“Someone’s trying to kill us, Uncle. I’m trying to figure out who before they succeed.” I lean forward, ignoring the protest from my bruised ribs. “Look at this. Every attack, every incident in the past month. They all required inside information.”
Konstantin studies the timeline I’ve created, his expression unreadable. “You think we have a traitor.”
“Iknowwe have a traitor.” I point to the list. “The peace meeting—someone gave up that location. The car bomb—someone knew our exact route, our timing,andwhat vehicle I’d be in. This isn’t random. This is coordinated and deliberate. Someone on the inside is feeding information to an enemy.”
“Or,” Konstantin says carefully, “the Ashfords are more clever than we give them credit for. Marcus has always been ambitious. Perhaps he’s decided to eliminate both you and his brother, consolidate power?—”
“Marcus was at the peace meeting when it was bombed,” I interrupt. “He would have died too. And yesterday’s attack—that would have killed Vera. Why would he kill his own niece?”
Konstantin shrugs. “Perhaps she’s acceptable collateral damage to him. Perhaps he’s decided that removing you is worth the sacrifice.”
The casual way he suggests Vera’s death makes violence surge in my chest. “She’s not collateral damage,” I hiss, wanting to punishanyonewho dares to think that.
“Isn’t she?” My uncle raises an eyebrow. “That was the arrangement, wasn’t it? She’s here as a hostage to keep the peace. If the peace is broken anyway?—”
“She’s my wife.” I say warningly. “And she’s carrying Alexei’s child. That makes her family. No one touches her. No one.”
Konstantin studies me for a long moment, and I see something flicker across his face. Surprise? Concern? I can’t quite read it. “You’ve grown attached.”
