Konstantin kicks one of the bodies, making sure he's dead. "Giovanni's men?"
I examine the closest corpse—mid-thirties, well-built, professional gear. There’s an insignia stitched into the fabric of his jacket shoulder—in black thread, so it’s difficult to see unless someone is looking closely. “Hired muscle.” I look at Konstantin. “You know Giovanni did this. Tried to throw us off the track by not using his own men, but he was willing to pay to do it. This is him.”
“No doubt.” Konstantin’s jaw tightens. “And not enough men to doanything but cause damage and take out a few of our own. Testing our defenses.”
I think quickly. “Were the cameras on? Any sign of a struggle at the front gate?”
It takes all of twenty minutes to uncover what happened. The cameras were switched off, the gates opened. The guard on duty in the security room is dead, a pool of blood beneath him on the concrete floor. An attempt was made to make it look as if there was a scuffle at the front gate, but not well enough to hide the truth.
Someone on the inside did this. They let the men in. And when we go to the guard shack at the front and find it empty, with no sign of the guard on duty, it’s not hard to figure out who it was.
“He tried to run.” Konstantin’s voice is clipped, and he turns to the men behind us. “Send out as many men as necessary to get him back. Bring him back alive.”
The cold edge in Konstantin’s voice is satisfying. This is the pakhan who will do what it takes to get answers. And knowing that someone here put Sienna and Adam in danger…
I want to help get those answers too.
“We need to send a message that this kind of betrayal has consequences,” I say flatly. “There can be no mercy for this.”
Konstantin looks at me, and I see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “We will,” he promises. “No need to worry on that front. Just as soon as our men return. But first, we make sure there are no more surprises tonight."
We spend the next hour sweeping the estate, checking every room, every hiding place. The attackers are all dead—fifteen men who thought they could walk into our home and walk out alive. They were wrong.
By the time our men return with the traitor, dawn is breaking over the estate. The cleanup is nearly finished—bodies removed, blood scrubbed from the marble floors, bullet holes patched and painted over. To anyone who didn't know what happened here tonight, it would look like nothing more than routine maintenance.
But the smell of gunpowder still lingers in the air, and there's a tension that won't dissipate until we get our answers.
I'm in Konstantin's office when they drag him in. Igor Petrov—a man who's worked security for the Abramov family for three years. Someone we trusted. Someone who had access to the codes, the schedules, the blind spots in our defenses.
He's roughed up from the chase, his lip split and one eye swollen shut. His hands are zip-tied behind his back, and there's fear radiating off him in waves. Good, I think, with a vehemence that I don’t normally feel in these situations. He should be afraid.
Konstantin doesn't look up from the papers on his desk when they force Igor to his knees in front of it. He continues reading for a long moment, letting the silence stretch until it becomes unbearable. It's a technique I remember from his father—make them wait, make them think about what's coming.
"Igor," Konstantin finally says, his voice conversational. "Three years you've worked for us. Three years of steady pay, good benefits, protection for your family." He sets down the papers and looks up, his blue eyes sharp and intense. "Help me understand why you threw that all away."
He almost sounds kind. Like he wants to understand. But I know the violence behind that tone, and I know Igor does too. He knows what kind of a man he works for. Which means Russo must have promised him something.
Igor's voice comes out as a croak. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The lie hangs in the air between us. I step forward into the light, letting him see the blood still staining my shirt from tonight's violence. "The cameras were disabled from the inside, the guard on duty down there, killed. The front gate was opened with the proper codes." I crouch down so we're at eye level. "We know it was you, Igor. You ran, which is the most damning evidence of all. Clearly, you thought that someone would extract you, give you something. The only question is what, and why."
Sweat beads on his forehead despite the chill of the air-conditioned office. "I swear, I don't?—"
Konstantin's fist slams down on the desk, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. "Enough." His voice is deadly quiet now. "Fifteen men walked into my home tonight. They killed Mikhail—a boy who looked up to you, who asked you for advice about handling his first assignment. They could have harmed my wife, my unborn child." His eyes narrow. "They could have harmed Damian’s wife.”
That word strikes me like a blow. I haven’t seen Sienna since I left her in the panic room. Regardless of the circumstances of our marriage, the one thing that hasn’t and won’t change is that she’s my responsibility, mine to protect. She could have been hurt tonight. Adam could have been hurt. That hot rage burns behind my ribs, making me want to speed up this interrogation, to hurt Igor sooner rather than later.
Igor's resolve cracks slightly. "They said they just wanted information. About your routines, your security protocols. They said no one would get hurt."
“Another lie.” Konstantin nods to me, and I prowl toward Igor. “Of course someone was going to get hurt. You’re not so stupid as to think that.” He watches as I step behind Igor, reaching for one of his bound hands. “Who approached you?”
When Igor doesn’t answer immediately, I take my opportunity. I’ve never enjoyed torture, though it doesn’t turn my stomach typically. But when I break Igor’s index finger, I feel a rush of satisfaction. They could have hurt Sienna.
"Who?" I growl, standing up. "Who approached you?"
Igor’s voice is choked with pain when he answers. He’s not a tough one, then. One broken finger is enough to start breaking him.
"I can't—they'll kill my sister. My nephew."
