I picked it up, turned it over in my hands. The paper was thick, expensive. The masquerade detail was interesting. Masks meant anonymity, meant people could move and talk and conduct business without being immediately recognised.
It was the perfect cover.
I pulled my laptop closer, started searching.
Viktor Volkov, a former soldier, now head of security for the Crown Prince. The wedding was being called the event of the year, a spectacle of power and wealth and influence.
And it was taking place at the palace.
I sat back in my chair, my mind working through the angles. The palace wasn't just a venue. It was a statement.
The invitation gave me access. And according to the news, it was going to be a masquerade wedding. That was enough to give me the cover that I needed.
I built the palace like a map in my head: doors, cameras, choke points.
This was the break I'd been waiting for. Three years of dead ends and sealed files and watching Harrow operate with impunity. Three years of knowing the truth and not being able to prove it.
That ended now.
I picked up my phone, dialled a number I'd memorised but rarely used. It rang four times before a voice answered, wary and familiar.
“Bishop.”
“It's Mercer. I need a background check on everyone connected to the Laurentian Palace wedding. Staff, security, vendors, guests. Everything.”
“That's a long list.”
“I'll pay your rate.”
A pause. “This about Harrow?”
“It's always about Harrow.”
“You're going to get yourself killed, Cal.”
“Not today.” I ended the call, set the phone down, and stared at the invitation again.
I folded the invitation carefully and tucked it into my desk drawer, next to the recorder that held Jason’s confession and the photographs Mrs. Tremaine would probably burn before the day was over.
Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving the city washed clean and gleaming under the sun. London looked almost beautiful from my window. Almost innocent.
But I knew better. I'd seen what lived beneath the surface. I'd memorised its shape, learned its rhythms, understood its hunger.
And I was going to drag it into the light, one careful step at a time.
Starting with a masquerade ball at Laurentian Palace, where everyone wore masks but nobody could hide.
