Siroc was leaning against the wall just inside the warehouse, holding his bleeding shoulder with his other hand.
“Oh God. What can I do? Can you move? We should run,” I rushed.
He shook his sweat-covered head. “No, Alina. Get out of here now.”
“What? You’re asking me to leave you here. Have you gone insane?”
“Please,” he pleaded through pants. “I can’t let them kill you.”
He shoved me forward, and my body collided with another body. I saw the gun in his other hand before I looked up at his face. He looked down at me, too, his blue eyes clueless.
Konstantin.
“Go!” Siroc insisted just before he slid down the wall and stopped moving.
I woke up shaking. The dream felt so real, like it was a scene I was in just now.
Siroc is pushing me towards Konstantin?
What the hell?!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Konstantin’s POV
Maybe Alina was right when she said I had control. Because that would be a good explanation for why I didn’t look anything like the restless shit I felt like. It would explain how I could still hold conversations with my men when thoughts of what was going on with Alina spun around my brain. It would explain why I looked the same when I was practically going crazy.
I wasn’t one to be confused or at a loss for a way forward out of anything. But when she left the sitting room after Mila’s discovery, those were the exact feelings that wrapped around my mind. I was angry and disappointed that she knew something, however little, about Vitya without letting me know. But it was also true that information about someone who served as his driver might seem inconsequential to someone who didn’t know how people like him built their networks.
I looked at her when Mila said the leak was tied to someone in the house because…I couldn’t explain why exactly. What I knew was that it was the normal thing to do. She was the closest thing to a suspect in the house.
I would have justified it as the right thing to do had my chest not constricted with an unpleasant feeling when she stood to leave.
“The thirty packs are here, sir,” Lambeth notified, making me look at the transparent packs of white powder.
“Hm,” I uttered, sliding my hands into my pockets. “And those in the other room?”
“We counted those last night. Everything is complete.”
“Call the others. Start moving them. Quantity over order this time. The client’s limit is the container’s limit.”
“Oh, okay, sir.”
I turned around and went back into my office.
“Boss, Mila has something,” Sergei said, entering the office.
“Did she say what?” I inquired, already rising to my feet.
“A pattern in the intel. That’s all she told me.”
“Let’s go, then.”
The car had barely slowed to a halt when Sergei and I got out on different sides. I went ahead of him into the office.
“Mr. Konstantin,” she said from where she sat behind her table.
Her table was to the left of my desk, and it was closer to the door.
