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“That’s exactly what I was about to address,” I say. “The timing is too precise to ignore. First a legal attempt to delay the project. Then a criminal complication on the exact same site.” I close the file lightly and rest my hand over it. “That suggests intent.”
Pavel’s gaze fixes fully on me now. “You’re suggesting they did this to us.”
“I’m not accusing them,” I say evenly. “I’m saying the circumstances are consistent with targeted disruption.”
Alex exhales and leans back in his chair, one hand dragging briefly across his jaw. My attention shifts, almost against my will, toward Maksim.
He’s quiet.
Too quiet.
His gaze is lowered to the table, something unreadable moving behind his eyes, something darker and more thoughtful than usual. For someone like him, the silence feels wrong. He’s normally the first to speak in situations like this, usually with a threat, a provocation, or some spectacularly unhelpful dramatic remark. This version of him—still, watchful, saying nothing—sets my teeth on edge more than any outburst would.
As if he feels me looking, he lifts his head.
Our eyes lock, and he gives me a hostile, confrontational stare that explicitly says, ‘what the fuck are you looking at,’ without him needing to utter a word. Then he quickly looks away, dismissing me.
My brows pull together.
What the hell is his problem?
“Whether this came from outside the family or not,” I say, redirecting my thoughts. “Access is the immediate concern. Someone knew where to place those bodies and when it would cause maximum disruption. And someone made sure it hit the press before we had any chance to contain it.”
“Well,” Pavel says with a sigh, “is there anything you need to build a defense for this case?”
“A full list of everyone with access to the site,” I answer. “Contractors, security, management, entry logs, and all internal communications related to the project.”
Anton gives a small nod. “You’ll have it by the end of the day.”
But I’m not done.
“There’s a gap,” I continue, folding my arms. “The site itself doesn’t yet have active surveillance, which means whatever happened out there wasn’t directly recorded.”
I lean back slightly, letting my gaze drift across the table before settling on Maksim again. This time, his eyes are already on me.
I hold them.
“There are still access points,” I say. “Roads leading in, adjacent properties, traffic systems, private security feeds. Movement leaves patterns, even when people think it doesn’t.”
His head tilts just slightly, and there’s something almost mocking in it. “That kind of access isn’t exactly standard.”
I raise a brow.
“When have you ever done anything standard, Maksim?” My voice stays level, but there’s an edge beneath it. “We need to identify whoever planted those bodies before the police do it for us. I’d think even you can see the value in that.”
His eyes narrow immediately.
“I know that,” he bites out, the words rough, edged with a glare hard enough to draw blood.
“Then do what you’re asked, son,” Pavel says, his impatience cutting cleanly through the room. His gaze shifts back to me. “I need to speak with you privately, in my study.”
I nod once. “Of course.”
❧
I step into Pavel’s office and close the door behind me. The quiet click settles in the room like something final. For a moment, I don’t move. I just stand there, letting my eyes adjust to the low light, to the familiar precision of his space. Everything in place, everything controlled, every object exactly where it should be.
He’s seated behind his desk, hands clasped neatly on top of it, posture straight, composed as always. At first glance, there’s nothing out of place, nothing that would suggest this is anything other than another routine conversation. But I’ve known Pavel long enough to recognize the subtleties, the fractures beneath the surface that most people would miss.
