Page 61 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

Marla scrambles out of bed, grabbing her robe from the chair. Her hands shake as she ties it closed. She rushes past me toward the front door, and I follow close behind. Russ and Alex fall into position automatically, flanking me as we move through the cottage. We're still on alert despite knowing it's Sharon.

The hallway is narrow, lined with framed photographs of landscapes. Afternoon light filters through the small window near the door, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. The cottage smells like coffee and sex, a combination that would be amusing under different circumstances. My boots are silent on the floor as I move.

Marla yanks open the front door and Sharon practically falls into her arms, sobbing. "Oh my God, I was so worried. I tried calling you like twenty times, and you didn't answer, and I thought something terrible happened."

"I'm fine," Marla says, but her voice is strained. "I'm okay."

Sharon pulls back, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Mascara has smudged beneath her lower lashes, and her blonde ponytail is coming loose, strands of hair sticking to her damp cheeks. She's breathing hard, like she ran here instead of driving. Then she notices the three of us standing in the hallway behind Marla, all of us dressed but clearly having just gotten out of bed. Her mouth falls open slightly, and fresh color floods her face.

"Oh," she says quietly, her voice breaking. "Oh."

"What are you doing here, Sharon?" Russ asks, his tone more gentle than I expected. He steps forward slightly, his body language shifting from threatening to concerned.

Sharon's gaze darts between us nervously, her hands twisting together at her waist. "I heard things at work last night. Scary things. And when Marla didn't answer her phone this morning, I panicked. I thought..." She swallows hard, her throat working visibly as she glances at Marla. "I thought maybe something happened to you."

"What kind of things?" Alex's voice is cold, cutting through Sharon's emotional rambling like a blade.

Sharon flinches slightly at his tone. She's clearly intimidated by all three of us, but especially by Alex. "Employees were talking. They were whispering about some kind of attack. A warehouse or something."

I straighten immediately, my eyes narrowing on her. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Beside me, I feel both Russ and Alex go still.

"Who was talking?" I ask quietly, keeping my voice level despite the sudden spike of adrenaline.

"I don't know all their names." Sharon's hands twist together more frantically now, her knuckles white. "Some of the bartenders. A couple of the servers. Maybe five or six people total that I heard directly, but it felt like everyone knew something."

"What exactly were they saying?" Russ moves closer, his posture deceptively casual but his eyes sharp and focused.

Sharon glances at Marla as if asking permission to continue. Marla nods slowly, her face pale. "They were saying that something big happened Sunday morning. That there was an attack on one of your warehouses." She looks at me when she says this. "They said people were hurt and that someone almost died."

The information isn't new, but hearing it discussed openly among employees is deeply concerning. That kind of talk spreads fast, and loose lips create problems we can't afford right now.

"How did they know it was my warehouse specifically?" I ask.

"I don't know. They just kept saying 'Vasiliev warehouse' and looking nervous whenever anyone walked by." Sharon's voice drops even lower. "The whole staff was on edge last night. People were scared to talk too loud. A couple of the newer servers looked like they wanted to quit on the spot."

Alex crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. "Did anyone mention who might have been responsible for the attack?"

Sharon shakes her head quickly. "No. Nobody seemed to know that part. Or if they did, they weren't saying."

"Sharon," I say carefully, watching her face. "Did anyone mention why they thought this attack happened? Any theories about motivation?"

She hesitates, and I can see her weighing how much to reveal. Finally, she nods. "Some people were saying it might be connected to... to some kind of business deal. That maybe someone was trying to send a message."

The merger. They're talking about the merger, even if they don't know the specifics. Information might be leaking faster than we anticipated.

"What else?" Alex presses, his voice harder now.

Marla has gone completely still beside Sharon, her face draining of color as she processes what her friend is saying. I can see the pieces clicking together in her mind, the full scope of what we're involved in becoming clearer with every word Sharon speaks.

Sharon's eyes dart away from mine, and my instincts immediately sharpen. She knows something else. Something she doesn't want to say.

"Sharon," Russ says gently, but there's steel beneath the kindness. "If you know something, you need to tell us. This isn't a game."

Sharon's hands twist together so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her breathing becomes shallow and rapid, her chest rising and falling visibly beneath her Ivory Wolf t-shirt. She looks at Marla first, then at each of us, her eyes wide with fear.

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble," she whispers.

"You won't," I say, keeping my voice level despite the tension coiling in my gut. "But we need to know what you heard."