Anton’s gaze stays on Konstantin. He doesn’t react, but he hears everything. He always does.
I nod once. “We’re fine with it if you are.”
Konstantin flicks his face to me. “Good. I will let him know we are set. We will have this sorted soon. But for now, I have a plan for the Whitlocks.”
That gets all of us curious. Even Anton moves, taking the empty chair at the conference table.
Konstantin looks directly at him. “I need you to be the one to do it.”
“Do what?”
Konstantin reaches for an orange envelope on the table, pulls out a photo, and slides it across toward Anton. I catch the woman’s face just as he does.
He picks it up and studies her like she’s not a person, but a problem he needs to assess. “Who is that?”
“Thora Whitlock.” Konstantin folds his arms over his chest. “Youngest child of Harlan Whitlock. And your target.”
Anton’s eyes lift from the photo for a brief glance, then drop right back to her. There’s no emotion in them—just that cold, unnerving curiosity.
“You want me to kill her?” He looks almost interested.
Excited is not the word to describe him. Anton doesn’t get excited. He gets…engaged. Like his mind clicks into place and the rest of the world fades into background noise.
“Not yet,” Konstantin says. “I want you to follow her. I want you to know her routine inside and out. I want to know when she wakes up, when she goes to sleep, where she goes, who she speaks to, what her habits are when she thinks no one is watching. I want everything. And when the time comes—ifit comes—I want you to be the one to kill her.”
Silence stretches as Anton stares at the photo again. His thumb slides along the edge, then his finger drifts across the image, slow and almost careful, tracing the line of her face like he’s memorizing it or studying a blueprint. He’s like a wolf deciding when to bite.
Anton lifts his gaze and shrugs. “Consider it done.”
The words land like a match. And I know what it means.
This war has already started. We just haven’t fired the first shot.
The engine is already running, the navigation set for one of our restaurants where I have a meeting with an investor, when my cellphone rings.
When I glance down, I find Oleg’s name, one of the men I put on Sloane without her knowing it. There is no way I will allow her out in the world without protection. Lev, of course, has his own guard, who is instructed to go wherever Lev goes, but this is her guard alone.
“Da, Oleg?”
A pause hits, then his voice comes through like he is choosing his words with too much care.
“Boss, I have been watching her all day as you asked, but…” He trails off.
Something is wrong.
Fingers snap around the steering wheel. “What is it? Say it.”
“She is with a man.”
Everything goes quiet in my skull, and I wonder if I heard right.
“What man?”
“Ya neznayu.”I don’t know.“I am not close enough to hear their conversation.” He pauses again, and I can just see him sweating. “There is a little boy with them too. They are at the park. She got the boy ice cream, and they are all laughing together.”
Laughing? She’s laughing with another man?
Heat crawls up my spine while that animal part of me that does not negotiate or share roars to the surface. She did not tell me about any men in her life. No mention of a boyfriend.
