Chapter 1 #2
I knew from photos he was tall, but seeing him in person hits different. He’s got to be six-three, maybe six-four. Dark hair silvering at the sides. Shoulders that fill out his tailored suit, tapering to a narrow waist in a way that probably makes omegas go stupid.
Not me, though. I know what he is. What he’s done.
My hand twitches toward the gun. I could do it right now. In three steps, I could put one in the back of his head before he even turns around. Watch his blood spray across those pretty windows.
But I didn’t spend six months building this cover just to die in his office without getting Sokolov too.
I can wait a little longer.
“Mr. DaCosta.” He turns, and I get my first real look at the man I’m going to kill.
Dark eyes like a demon. A face that might be handsome if it wasn’t so brutally cold, all sharp angles with the kind of bone structure that comes from generations of people who took what they wanted and buried anyone who objected.
A scar cuts through his left eyebrow, old and faded, the only imperfection on an otherwise perfect mask.
His gaze sweeps over me once, quick and clinical. But something in it catches before he blinks it away.
My breath snags as something hot and unwanted crawls up my spine, but I shut that shit down immediately. Traitorous omega-reaction bullshit I don’t have time for.
He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Of course it doesn’t. Men like him don’t have real smiles.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I understand you have an impressive background in software and security systems.”
The file I built for David DaCosta is immaculate. Former military, dishonorable discharge for reasons that make me look dangerous but hirable. Three years in private security for corporations that ask questions last and pay well. References that will check out if not probed too deeply.
“I go where the work is,” I say calmly. The part I don’t mention is how I had a hand in his former security analyst’s resignation. Or how I gave the guy a fat payout to put in a recommendation for me and keep his mouth shut too.
“Ms. Esperanza mentioned you’ve had some concerns?”
“Concerns.” Valerio moves to his desk, and I track him like prey tracks a predator.
Everything about him screams danger, from the way he moves to the weight of his attention when he looks at me.
“That’s a diplomatic way to put it. Someone has been accessing our systems. Moving inventory that should stay still. ”
“Internal or external threat?” I ask.
“That’s what I’m paying you to tell me.” He leans against his desk, arms crossed, and watches me carefully, making my pulse kick up a notch. “But between us? I think it’s internal. Someone close enough to know the systems. Smart enough to cover their tracks.”
Viktor Sokolov. He has to be talking about Sokolov.
Which means maybe, just maybe, Enzo doesn’t know his underboss framed an innocent man. Maybe Marco was just collateral damage in a power play between these two.
It doesn’t matter. Valerio runs this organization. He’s responsible for every fucking thing that happens under his watch. Marco’s blood is on his hands whether he held the weapon or not.
And as for Sokolov, it’s only a matter of time before I find whatever hole he crawled into. The bastard went dark two weeks ago, vanished like smoke. But I will find him. I just need to tap into Valerio’s communications, trace the connection.
“I’ll need full access,” I say. “Server rooms, personnel files, surveillance footage at Eclipse, all your warehouses, even your home, Mr. Valerio. Everything.”
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. His back straightens, dark eyes zeroing in on me.
“My home.”
“If the threat is internal, then yes.” I keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my veins. “Whoever’s doing this may have access to your personal systems too. Your home network, your private communications. We need to look everywhere.”
Valerio doesn’t respond immediately. He tilts his head to the side, gaze sharpening like a scalpel.
“You ask for a lot, Mr. DaCosta. Most men in your position start by asking what access I’m willing to give.” His voice is low and even, with an edge to it that tells me I’m about to either earn his respect or get fucking crushed if I don’t choose my next words carefully.
But I’ve prepared for this, prepared for every test and trap that will be thrown my way.
“Well, those men aren’t here, are they, Mr. Valerio?” I reply evenly. “If you want answers, you’ll have to let me look everywhere. I can’t chase shadows with blindfolds on.”
He leans forward, and the space between us takes on a lethal chill.
“You could be the threat.”
Ah, if only he knew.
I meet his gaze head-on, ignoring the faint waver in my gut that tells me my suppressants are thinning by the minute.
“I could be. But you’re the one who hired me. If you thought I wasn’t fit for the job, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
I let the silence stretch for just a breath.
“Give me enough rope to hang myself, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ll know soon enough if I’m here to help or not.”
Soon enough, when your body is six feet under.
He studies me in silence. Those dark eyes cut right through me, searching for cracks in the facade, for any weakness he can exploit.
But I’ve trained for this. Spent six months building David DaCosta into someone who could stand in this room and not flinch.
Except theory and practice are two different things, and Enzo Valerio in person is more than I bargained for.
The way he watches me feels less like suspicion and more like he already knows what I’m hiding and is simply waiting to see if I’ll confess.
My throat goes dry, but I don’t look away. I hold his stare with everything I have.
He hums, low in his throat, and starts tapping a finger on the desk. Steady beats that feel like a countdown. To what, I don’t know.
Have I overplayed my hand, maybe? Been too bold for someone who walked in here minutes ago? It will be a problem if he shuts me down or limits my access. I’ll be stuck trying to work around whatever restrictions he puts in place for weeks, precious time I don’t have.
Precious time I don’t want to give to this bastard.
“Full access,” he says at last. “Granted.”
Relief hits me so hard I almost sag. I don’t. I keep my spine straight, my expression neutral, even as my mind races with the possibilities.
Full access means server rooms, personnel files, and surveillance footage. Everything I need to build my case against Valerio and Sokolov.
Valerio pushes off the desk and closes the distance between us. My suppressants waver again, and his scent hits me harder this time—dark cedar with smoky notes. My brain goes quiet and attentive in a way that makes me want to claw my own skin off. I shouldn’t be aware of him like this.
He stops close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I can see the silver of his faded scar, the exact shade of black in his eyes.
His nostrils flare slightly, so subtle I would have missed it if I wasn’t paying attention.
He’s close enough that if I wanted to, I could—
The gun. I could reach for the gun right now. Put it under his chin and pull the trigger before anyone could stop me.
But not yet.
I force myself to stay still.
“I value loyalty, Mr. DaCosta,” Valerio says, and something flickers across his face, too fast to read. “My father used to say loyalty was bought with fear. I’ve found it works better when it’s earned.” His eyes hold mine, dark and fathomless. “But that takes time. Trust takes time.”
There’s something almost weary in the way he says it. Like he’s tired of the constant calculation, the endless testing he probably does in his line of work. For a second, he doesn’t look like a ruthless crime lord, but rather a man carrying weight he didn’t ask for.
Then it’s gone, and he’s all cold calculation again.
“The people who work for me, who I trust with my family’s interests—I protect them. Generously. But betrayal?” He smiles again. This one touches his eyes, but the look behind it could freeze blood solid. “I don’t tolerate that.”
I curse myself for whatever humanity I thought I glimpsed a second ago. This is the real him. The man who had my brother murdered. I need to carve that into my brain and never forget it.
“Understood, Mr. Valerio.”
His dark eyes hold mine for a beat, then drop to my mouth and back up so fast I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“Good.”
He steps back, and I can finally breathe again, though I'm not sure if it's relief or something else that loosens my chest. “Maria will get you set up. I want daily reports.” He returns to his desk, already reaching for papers.
“And Mr. DaCosta?”
I pause at the door.
“Welcome to the family.” He doesn't smile when he says it.
I manage a nod and press my lips together in something that should pass for a smile.
He holds my gaze for a moment longer. Then he gives a subtle nod of his own, and I’m dismissed.
I walk out of that office on legs that feel like they belong to someone else. Esperanza is right there, waiting.
“I’ll have your credentials ready within the hour,” she says, already moving down the hallway. “Come on, I’ll show you to your station.”
I follow her, keeping my breathing even through sheer force of will. We pass the guards again, and I give them a polite nod, sliding the mask of David DaCosta back into place.
The elevator ride down feels longer than the one up.
Esperanza fills the silence with talk of security protocols, access schedules, something about rotating passwords.
I nod at the right moments and make appropriate sounds of acknowledgment.
But my mind is elsewhere, replaying every second of that conversation with Valerio, analyzing every word, every glance, every shift in his expression.
Something about it doesn't sit right. I just can't figure out what.
The doors open to the sub-level. Esperanza steps out first and leads me to a glass-walled office tucked beside a reinforced door.
“This will be your workspace,” she says, nodding at the office. “And that’s the server room.” She gestures to the reinforced door. “Everything you’ll need access to is routed through there.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll leave you to get started. Mr. Valerio expects your first report by end of day tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
She walks away, heels clicking on the concrete.
I wait until I hear the elevator doors close before I let myself sag against the wall, all the adrenaline that kept me upright in Valerio’s office draining out of me at once.
My hands won’t stop shaking. And fuck—I can still smell traces of his scent on my clothes.
I close my eyes and Marco’s broken face flashes behind my eyelids, and the rage floods back into my veins all over again. I really should have killed the bastard and damned it all to hell.
Welcome to the family. Like I want any part of his blood-soaked empire.
I'm going to burn it all down, starting with him.