"Because he’s a disease," I say. "Because he destroys everything he touches to save his own skin. He betrayed me once. Long before you were part of this game. And now he’s doing it again."
She stares at me, searching my face.
"I don't believe you.”
"Then go," I challenge her.
I point to the door.
"Go to the North Gate at midnight, and see who’s waiting. If it’s your father with a hug, I’ll let you go. But if it’s a Moretti with a knife, don't say I didn't warn you."
I release her.
She stumbles back, hitting the window. She checks the door, then me, a million emotions playing out on her face. She’s broken. The hope that was lighting her up minutes ago is gone, leaving her cold and desperate.
"You hate him," she whispers. "And you hate me because I’m his daughter."
I look at her. I look at the woman who has plagued my thoughts for two days.
"I should," I say, before turning my back on her. Turning my back on that foolish lapse in judgment.
She is a Blackwood.
"Lev!" I call out.
He steps into the room.
"Take her back to the penthouse. Lock her in the guest suite. If she tries to leave, tie her to the bed."
I walk out of the office, leaving her sobbing against the glass.
I need a drink. It’s time to prepare for war.
12
KONSTANTIN
The elevator doors slide open. I step into the penthouse.
The air inside is cool. It’s a hell of a difference from the smell of blood back at the Estate. I rip off my tie as I walk into the living area. My shirt is still stained with Mikhail’s blood.
"Ivan," I call out. "Report."
Ivan is already here with his setup, occupying the dining table. Lev stands by the balcony, cleaning his gun.
Ivan doesn't look up from his screens. "The firewall is patched," he says. "I closed the Founder’s Key exploit. Arthur won't be able to open the door again, but…"
"But what?" I demand, pouring myself a tumbler of vodka.
"I found a secondary script," he explains. "While the chat window was open on Helena's screen, a background process was running. It scraped the desktop."
I freeze, tumbler halfway to my mouth. "What did they take?"
"The logistics manifest," Ivan says. "It means they know the ship name, theLady Anastasia. They know the departure time and the return route from Venezuela."
I slam the tumbler down. It shatters, sending vodka and crystal shards across the marble counter.
"They know about the shipment," I snarl. "How? You said the firewall held."
