"What does he know?" Makros asked, his voice calm.
Mikhail's eyes flickered back to him, blazing. "Enough that letting him escape was an unacceptable mistake. One which shouldn't have been made."
Makros did not blink. "There was a third party involved, an unexpected circumstance."
Mikhail's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but Sergei spoke first.
“You’re missing the point,” Sergei said, exhaling smoke from the cigarette he’d lit. “The issue isn’t that he got out. The issue is where he is now. And whose hands he’s in.”
Makros didn’t react, though the implications were clear. Aleksei wasn’t just missing, in fact he had been found. But by someone else.
Mikhail leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "We know Aleksei has been speaking to our associates in Naples."
Makros stiffened.
It all came back full circle. The ‘ambitious’ Naples partner Don Matteo had mentioned.
Mikhail's voice was getting colder by the second. "We expected you to bring Aleksei to us. And now our problem has become yours. Take care of the Neapolitans."
Makros didn't let his expression change, but in his mind, the pieces clicked into place. The Russians weren't here to call in an old debt. They were here to make it clear that if their enterprise was compromised by Aleksei, Makros would be the one to suffer.
It was a threat.
By his side, Leila continued to watch Mikhail, weighing him. Makros knew that she too had caught the meaning of his words.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The Rising Tide
Nicolai smoked in the front seat, his eyes flickering to the side mirror now and again, like he expected the Russians to be tailing them.
Makros's mind raced.
Malysh.
That had been a crisis point, and he had been quick to realize it was a nickname. But the use of it was far more unsettling. Had the Russian suspected something? Were they trying to test him?
Leila who had been seated beside him in ominous silence spoke finally, her voice like a blade slipping between ribs.
"First, it was me. Then the Russians. Naples waiting to slit your throat. One by one, your enemies are growing, closing in, and when they strike. If all else fails, I’ll be the one to finish you."
She didn’t shout. Didn’t sneer. But the satisfaction in her voice was unmistakable. She wanted him to lose. To fall. To suffer as she had.
Makros said nothing. He did not even glance at her. He let the silence stretch, let her words settle, their poison seeping into the air between them.
Leila tilted her head slightly. Waiting. Expecting something. But all she got was silence.
She laughed, turning away towards the window. "No clever reply? No threats?"
Still, he said nothing.
"I wonder what frightens you more," she breathed, her voice almost reflective. "That they're after you... or that this time, you'll lose for real."
That got her what she was hoping for. A reaction.
Makros shifted his head then, slow, calculated, his eyes finding hers with something dark and unfathomable.
"I am not worried about my enemies drawing near. In fact, I enjoy it when they do. Because close—" he leaned ever so slightly to her and continued, "I get to witness the instant they realize they never had a chance."
