Lukyan smiles slightly. It’s not an amused smile.
“When Misha brought him in,” Lukyan says casually, placing the laptop on the table, “I searched his studio.”
He taps the device lightly.
“This was hidden.”
Matteo’s breathing picks up.
“It’s heavily encrypted,” Lukyan continues. “Which, on its own, is already suspicious.”
A glance at Timofey.
“So I had some help.”
His fingers slide over the laptop.
“We unlocked it.”
Silence drops.
Heavy.
Final.
Lukyan looks at Matteo now.
And this time, there’s no trace of anything but cold clarity.
“You’ve been sending information,” he says. “Consistently. To the same encrypted number.”
Matteo doesn’t speak.
He can’t.
Timofey steps forward slightly. “Who does the number belong to?”
Lukyan shakes his head once. “We haven’t been able to trace it yet, but whoever it is—” His gaze flicks to Matteo. “They’ve been getting everything.”
The air shifts.
Timofey turns to Matteo slowly. His eyes are deadly. Cold in a way that makes the room feel smaller.
“Who does the number belong to?” he asks.
Matteo shakes his head immediately. Too fast. “I don’t know—”
I don’t think.
I move.
One second, my hands are empty.
The next, I’ve grabbed the gun from the guard beside me and turned it on Matteo.
Gasps ripple through the room.
“Valeria—!” Timofey’s voice cuts sharply behind me.
