Page 97 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

And it’s already ticking.

25

ONE HOUR. (ALEKSANDER)

Mikhail brings Tamara into the study just after noon.

He doesn’t make a joke when they enter. That’s the first indication of how badly the meeting went.

The second is Tamara.

Her control is too clean.

No wasted movement. No cutting remark when Mikhail closes the door. She removes her coat, folds it over the back of the chair, and takes a small envelope from her coat pocket.

“He gave me a photograph,” she says. “And a deadline.”

I take the envelope. Inside is a surveillance shot of her son walking beside Anna Morozov. I look at it once, then place it on the desk.

“What did he ask?”

Tamara sits. “Bellweather. Meridian. Saldívar. Whether Yuri is reviewing old routes.”

Yuri, standing near the bookshelves, shows no reaction.

“What names?”

“Reznikov. Malysh. Orlov.” A brief pause. “Morozov.”

I keep my eyes on Tamara. “What else?”

“He wants to know which brother questions the alliance.”

Mikhail laughs once, softly. “Charming.”

“He gave me until Friday.”

Enough time to set pressure. Not enough time to breathe.

Then Tamara looks at me. “He also thinks I can make you careless.”

She should not have to say that in front of men with guns. I hate everyone who made her able to. Including myself.

Yuri breaks the silence first. “Friday gives us time. We can feed him something controlled.”

“No.”

His brows draw together slightly.

“Not yet,” I say. “We think before we feed him anything.”

“He expects intel.”

“He’ll get it.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that makes him think he still controls the board.”