It made sense. If someone didn’t want the Safins tracing stolen goods back to them, they’d make damn sure every step was hidden.
“Do you need me for anything else?” I asked.
“No, that’s it. Wexler will keep watch on the laptop, and if anything pings, he’ll come get you. You should get some rest. And Sienna…thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I was about to hang up when the words slipped out. “Hey, Avit?”
A few seconds passed before he answered. “Yes, angel?”
Goosebumps rose along my arms. No one had ever given me a cute nickname before, and hearing it come from him—soft and sweet, nothing like the hard, ruthless Bratva mask he wore for everyone else—sent an unexpected shiver through me.
“Can I keep my phone?”
I held my breath.
“Yes, angel. You can. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
The line went dead.
By the time I passed Wexler outside the office on my way back to my room, he was already on his phone. Once I got inside, the sleepiness was gone. I switched on the light, sat behind my desk, and buried myself in studying.
Over the next four days, nothing happened, and Avit was on edge. I saw it in everything: the constant tension in his shoulders, the way he’d force a smile when he saw me, how he’d reread the same page in a file for ten full minutes when we worked in the office together. How he’d snap at me, then immediately apologize.
That night, I was studying when a knock rattled my door. I got up to open it.
“Mrs. Safin, we got a ping for a few of the codes,” Wexler said.
My stomach tightened. I hurried to my desk, grabbed my phone, and sprinted to the office, already dialing Avit.
“Sienna, is something wrong?” Avit answered immediately.
“No,” I said quickly. “A few of the codes went off. I just got into the office, I’m logging in now.” I set the phone on speaker, my fingers scrambling across the keyboard, my eyes glued to the screen.
“I’ve got an address,” I said. “And the name of the delivery company.”
“Tell me the location and send me the codes,” he said. I heard movement in the background, then the fast, heavy sound of his footsteps. I rattled off the address just as a door slammed and tires squealed on his end.
“Avit, this stopover hub you’re heading to is used by several delivery companies.”
“Which means the stolen goods could go anywhere,” he said.
“Anywhere corporate,” I corrected. “These companies don’t deliver to residential properties.”
“Send me the list of companies.”
I rattled off the names, then asked, “Are you heading to the hub?”
“Yes.”
“Why? We don’t know how long it’ll take before we get another alert,” I said, fingers flying as I set up the stolen codes to track activity at the hub. I left the other company codes active too, just in case my father decided to sell more goods.
“Because something tells me there’s a lot more happening at this hub than just deliveries.”
“Are your Bratva senses tingling?” I teased.
He chuckled. “As a matter of fact, they are. And my siblings and I learned a long time ago to trust them.”
