She planted the device.
My chest loosens slightly. She did it. The woman who was shaking in my kitchen three days ago just successfully bugged a Bratva money launderer’s office.
“There’s something else,” Caleb says, his voice taking on a different quality. Warmer. More personal. “The Starlight Gala is this Friday. It’s an important networking event—potential clients, investors. I could use a… companion for the evening.”
Suka.My blood turns to ice.
“I— What?” Mary’s voice goes up an octave.
“As my guest. Nothing improper, of course. Just business. You’d represent the bank beautifully.”
The silence stretches on for what feels like hours. I’m gripping the chair arms so hard I might leave fingerprints in the plastic.
Finally, Mary speaks: “That sounds… wonderful. I’d love to attend.”
“Excellent. I’ll have my assistant send you the details.”
More sounds of movement, chairs scraping, footsteps.
“Thank you again, Mr. Whitfield. I won’t let you down.”
“I’m counting on it, Mary.”
The door closes. The audio shifts back to the general bank noise.
Boris is practically bouncing in his chair. “Device is active. Clear signal. And she just got herself invited to whatever the hell that gala is.”
But I’m not celebrating. Because Mary just agreed to walk into a room full of predators wearing a dress that will make her a target.
And I’m going to have to watch from the shadows while Caleb puts his hands on her.
The audio crackles as movement settles in Caleb’s office. Then the distinctive beep of a phone being dialed.
Boris and I freeze.
“It’s done,” Caleb’s voice, clearer now through the bug Mary planted. “She agreed to the gala.”
A pause. Someone’s talking on the other end, but we can’t make out the words.
“Let’s make sure this time no one saves her,” Caleb continues. “Three attempts, three failures. Whoever’s been interfering won’t see it coming.”
They know someone’s protecting her.
They know I’m out there.
“Friday night then,” Caleb says. “The Bellagio. If her… guardian shows up, we’ll be ready.”
The line goes dead.
The office falls silent except for the hum of Caleb’s computer and the distant sound of the bank lobby.
Boris stares at his screens. “Anton…”
“I know.”
“They’re using her as bait.”
“I know.”
