“Yes. And they want to control it.” Chace sighs. Trey lets out a sharp, humorless breath. “Good luck with that.” Before Chace can respond, a soft chime cuts through the tension. Chace reaches for his phone, but the moment he sees the screen, something in his expression shifts. “They’re faster than I thought,” he mutters. Chace turns the phone slightly so we can see. A video. A black screen with no thumbnail, no sender, no ID—just the confirmation that it’s been delivered. My pulse spikes.
“Play it.” Chace hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, before tapping the screen. The video flickers to life. A dimly lit room comes into focus, revealing a chair and a woman standing beside it. She’s around sixty, tall, composed, her posture effortless in a way that feels practiced rather than natural. Ash-blonde hair is pulled back cleanly, exposing the sharp elegance of her features, and pale blue eyes hold a steady, unblinking clarity.
She’s dressed in dark, tailored lines that skim her figure without softness, every detail precise, intentional. Even throughthe grain of the footage, there’s something arresting about her—an unmistakable authority.
When she shifts slightly, it’s with the kind of controlled grace that suggests she’s always aware of exactly how she’s seen.
Power sits on her like it belongs there.
Her eyes lift slowly, locking onto the camera as though she knows exactly who’s on the other side—and has been waiting for it.
“Mr. Baker,” she says smoothly, her Russian accent unmistakable. “And…Mrs. Baker.” My breath catches.
She smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.
“You have something that belongs in my world.”
Beside me, Trey doesn’t move. Doesn’t even seem to breathe.
“And I have something you want,” she continues, her tone unhurried.
She smiles with no warmth.
“Let us not pretend we are not already in conversation.”
The screen cuts to black.
Silence floods the SUV.
Trey exhales slowly. When he speaks, his voice is quiet
and infinitely more terrifying.
“You know this queen murder momma I am guessing?” Trey asks. Chace nods, expression unreadable.
“Galina Orlova, yes.”
“The fuck she want with you?”
“Same as always. Influence, power… a favor. It doesn’t matter though. She played her hand too soon.”
“You okay, baby?” Trey’s hand runs through my hair. I’m trying to make sense of everything unfolding, but his touch pulls me back into myself. I lean into him and manage a small smile.
“I’ll be fine…so what does this mean, Chace?”
“It means she made a mistake.”
Trey gives a wry grin, glancing at him. “What we gonna do now then?”
“Well,” A dark grin pulls at Chace’s lips, “She put herself nicely in the crosshairs of old houses and rivalries. It would be a shame not to pull the trigger.”
Chapter Thirty
Trey
My Domain – Tommee Profitt, SVRCINA
Iflex my jaw, making my ears pop.
