The language is clinical, detached, discussing my brother like he’s a problem requiring management rather than a person. References to his investigative work, the networks he’d traced, the political exposure his findings would create. A recommendation section suggests “containment through Sartore channels pending Rudenko approval.”
There’s no explicit kill order. No smoking gun that saysmurder Ethan Clarke and stage it as an accident.
Except the phrasing is deliberate enough to confirm what I already knew: this wasn’t random. Ethan’s death was discussed, evaluated, and approved through channels that included Felix’s organization.
I grab a pen and notepad from the desk and start copying filenames, dates, anything that might help me reconstruct this later. My hands shake hard enough that the writing comes out barely legible, but I force myself to keep going.
Footsteps echo in the hallway.
My stomach drops. I freeze, pen still pressed to paper, listening to the measured pace approaching the office door.
The footsteps stop outside.
I have maybe three seconds before whoever it is enters. The door is still closed, but the keycard access doesn’t require unlocking from inside. If Felix came back early, if Oleg is doing a security sweep, if anyone with clearance decides to check the office—
The handle turns.
I dive beneath the desk, cramming myself into the narrow space between the chair and the filing cabinets. My knees press against my chest, breath trapped in my lungs, pulse roaring loud enough that I’m certain it’s audible.
The door opens. Footsteps enter, confident and unhurried.
I can see polished leather shoes through the gap beneath the desk. Expensive, well-maintained. The kind Felix wears.
The footsteps move toward the windows first, pausing there briefly. I hear the faint sound of curtains being adjusted, then he turns back toward the center of the room. The chairshifts as he leans against the desk edge, so close that I could reach out and touch his leg if I moved even slightly.
Silence stretches. I count heartbeats, trying to slow my breathing enough that the sound won’t betray me.
“Come out, Diana.”
His voice is calm, almost conversational.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. He knew. The entire time, he knew I was here.
I don’t move. Maybe if I stay silent, if I wait long enough—
“I can see you.” His tone doesn’t change. “You have three seconds to come out on your own, or I’ll drag you out. Your choice.”
My options narrow to nothing. I unfold myself from beneath the desk, movements clumsy and shaking, and emerge into the open space feeling exposed and furious in equal measure.
Felix stands beside the desk, arms crossed, watching me with an expression that gives away nothing. He’s still wearing the suit from this morning, but his tie is loosened slightly and his sleeves are rolled to his forearms. He looks like he just returned from a business meeting, calm and controlled despite finding me rifling through his encrypted files.
“How long have you been back?” I manage, voice coming out steadier than I feel.
“Long enough.” He gestures toward the notepad still clutched in my hand. “What did you find?”
I don’t answer. I’m calculating distance to the door, whether I could make it past him, how far I’d get before security stopped me. The math doesn’t work in my favor.
Felix moves suddenly, closing the space between us with two strides and pinning me against the desk edge. One handbraces beside my hip, the other catching my wrist to stop me from grabbing the notepad I dropped during the scramble.
The proximity is electric and hostile, his body caging mine without full contact. I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with something sharper—adrenaline, maybe, or controlled anger.
“Let go of me.” My heart hammers visibly against my ribs, pulse jumping in my throat.
“You broke into my office.” His voice drops lower, dangerously quiet. “Accessed confidential files, copied information you have no clearance to see. Do you really think you’re in a position to make demands?”
“You left the terminal unlocked.” The deflection is weak, but it’s all I have.
“I left it accessible to see what you’d do.” His grip tightens slightly on my wrist, not painful but firm enough to communicate control. “You’ve been watching the guard rotations, timing the shift changes, looking for vulnerabilities. I wanted to know how far you’d go.”
