Vadim
"Alright, I think we've covered everything.
The access logs are clean, night rotation's been adjusted, and I'm still waiting on the final quote for the camera upgrades.
If it comes back within the ballpark figure we anticipate, I'll go ahead with it.
Oh, and the incident from Tuesday is documented. "
Marek looks up from my monthly report. "What incident?"
"We caught a guy trying to walk out with chips that weren't his. Detained him. Metro was called. It's in their hands now."
"Right. Okay, good. Everything seems to be under control." He closes his laptop and raises an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
“You mean Farkas?"
"Who else? What have you got?"
My fingers curl into clenched fists in my lap. "The explosion, it was him."
"Are you certain?"
"Positive. Verified by two separate sources."
"Okay. At least we know what we're dealing with now. What next?"
"I'm investigating. I need more information. It's clear him targeting Pres—uh, Preston—and Ellie was a signal to me. But I don't know why. Why me? Why now? What's his endgame?"
Marek lifts his chin, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "And how are Ellie and Pres?"
Then he dead-eyes me for a solid ten seconds.
Fucker.
I know exactly what he's doing. It's payback for all the shit I gave him when he and Agnieszka started dating. Not that Preston and I are even dating, but still, he'll take any little opening he can get to goad me.
I don't bite, answering calmly. "Ellie is staying in the suite and apparently ordering up big on room service."
Marek grins. "I see. And Pres?"
That's it. I plant my hands on the desk and shove myself forward.
"Don't ever call him that."
He cocks his head to the side. "Why not?"
"And cut the innocent act," I snap. "You're not pulling it off."
He taps his chest, grinning from ear to ear now. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Like hell he doesn't. I'm about to rip him a new asshole when his phone rings, and his expression turns serious.
"Hello, this is Marek. Yes… Yes… Is he okay?… And what did the teacher do?… Right. I see. No, no. I'll pick him up myself… I'll be there in ten minutes… Thank you."
The whole time he's been talking, his frown has grown from a crease to a full-on glare. By the time he ends the call, he's about ready to explode.
"What's wrong?"
"Some bullies beat Lukasz up and locked him in the janitor's closet."
"Why the fuck would they do that?"
"I don't have time to explain."
Marek gathers his keys, phone, and wallet.
I stand up as well. "Want me to come with you?"
"No, it's fine. You've got enough work to do. Get onto Farkas," he says, storming toward the door. "And deal with him…" He spins around, and our eyes meet. "By whatever means are necessary."
"What about the unofficial family truce?"
"Fuck that," Marek spits out. "Anyone who comes for us, or anyone we know, is fair game."
"Roger that," I say, tipping my head.
The only reason I've been holding back on putting an end to Farkas is because of Marek. But now that I've gotten his go-ahead, and I know it was Farkas behind the explosion, that motherfucker is living on borrowed time.