Page 11 of Prey of the Bratva

“South docks,” I said. “Warehouse rotations tied to offshore clearances. Anything rerouted within forty-eight hours or less after arrival.”

His expression tightened again, and I could sense recognition in his gaze. It almost felt as if he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Those aren’t standard records,” he said carefully.

“I’m not paying you this much money for merely standard records. I can get those anywhere.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “That kind of access costs more.”

“That depends,” I said, my voice still calm and even. “On whether the information is worth it.”

His gaze flickered to the left again but quickly returned to me.

“Who told you to look into this?” he asked.

“No one tells me what to do.”

“That’s not how our world works.”

“It does for me.”

I took another step closer, closing the distance between us just enough to make him uncomfortable without appearing aggressive.

“You’re a mid-level logistics coordinator,” I continued. “You don’t have authority, but you have access. You see things before they are buried and cleaned up. I am paying you to know what you see, and I am sure you will cooperate.”

His throat moved as he swallowed.

“You are making assumptions.”

“I’m making observations.”

There was silence again, but this time I let it stretch. I let him feel the weight of it.

“I’ve also seen the symbol,” I mentioned casually, testing the waters. “And trust me when I say it, I know what it means. And I know that you know what it means, so let’s stop pretending and playing and get to it.”

That was when everything changed. It wasn’t outwardly dramatic because he didn’t even flinch or step back. He didn’t reach for anything either. But his eyes were enough to give him away. His pupils tightened, and breath hitched. That careful, constructed composure cracked just enough to expose what was underneath.

I could sense fear. I felt it settle into my chest like confirmation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said too quickly, as if he hadn’t even stopped to think his words through. It felt rehearsed and practiced.

“You do.”

“No—”

“You know all about the auctions,” I interrupted softly. “You know the background watermark in every leaked video on the dark web. It is subtle and easy to miss unless you’re looking for it, but we both know what it means and the cargo that is attached to it.”

His jaw clenched. “You are mistaken.”

“I saw it three nights ago,” I said. “On a crate being unloaded at the docks. A crate that came here.”

The silence between us was thicker this time, but he didn’t rush to deny it. He couldn’t deny it. The truth was on his face. I took another step forward, close enough now to see the sweat forming at his temple.

“That cannot be a coincidence,” I said quietly.

“No,” he admitted before he could stop himself.

The word hung in the air between us. There it was. The truth. I felt something sharp and cold settle deeper into my chest. Something that felt like satisfaction. I was closer to the truth than I could imagine, only if he would give it to me. I didn’t even need much, just scraps of information to get by.