Konstantin
Watching Emilia work is mesmerizing.
She's set up my laptop at the small dining table, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a speed and precision that would put most hackers to shame.
I don't understand half of what she's doing. Code scrolls across the screens, incomprehensible strings of characters and commands that somehow make sense to her.
But I understand the result.
"Got it," she says, and there's fierce satisfaction in her voice. "First account drained. Thirty-seven million, redistributed across two hundred different micro-transactions to legitimate charities."
"He can't trace it?"
"Not without admitting the money existed in the first place." She glances at me over her shoulder. "Which he can't do, because that account is definitely not legal."
I move to stand behind her chair, looking at the screens. "How many accounts left?"
"Six. But the next one is trickier. It's got better security."
"How much better?"
"Government-level encryption. Two-factor authentication. Biometrics."
"Can you break it?"
Her smile is sharp as a knife. "I can break anything. It just takes time."
I believe her.
The morning dissolves into afternoon while she works. I order food, room service, delivered discreetly, and make sure she eats even when she's too focused to remember.
Around three, my phone buzzes. Maksim Vasiliev.
I step into the bedroom to take the call. "Yes?"
"Konstantin." Maksim's voice is smooth, urbane. "I trust you enjoyed The Hunt last night?"
"It was memorable."
"Good, good. I'm calling because we have a situation that requires your particular expertise." A pause. "A champagne glass was found shattered in the ballroom last night. Security footage shows a woman in blue attempting to approach Artur Troskoy before it was... knocked away."
Fuck.
"The woman disappeared during The Hunt," Maksim continues. "I'm told you caught number four. Interesting coincidence, no?"
My mind races. "You think my prey was trying to what? Poison Troskoy?"
"I think someone was. And I think you may have inadvertently stopped them." Another pause. "I'd like to speak with your prize from last night. Just a conversation. Nothing unpleasant."
"She's sleeping." The lie comes easily. "The Hunt, and her subsequent surrender, was intense."
"I'm sure it was." I can hear the smile in his voice. "When she wakes, bring her by my office. I'd like to understand what happened."
"Of course."
I end the call and find Emilia watching me from the doorway.
"That sounded ominous," she says.
"Maksim knows someone tried to poison Troskoy. He's connected it to you."
Color drains from her face. "What do we do?"
"We go talk to him." I see her about to protest and hold up a hand. "He's not accusing you yet. He's curious. And if we refuse, he'll become suspicious."
"So we walk into the lion's den and hope he doesn't eat us."
"We walk in together, and we give him a story he'll believe." I move toward her. "You're under my protection now. That means something in this world."
"It also means if I'm guilty, you're guilty too."
"Good thing we're in this together then." I cup her face. "Trust me?"
She searches my eyes for a long moment. Then: "Yes."
"Good. Get dressed. We'll go see Maksim, give him the story, and get back to work."
Twenty minutes later, we're walking through the hotel toward Maksim's private office. Emilia is wearing one of my shirts, and her hand is clasped firmly in mine.
To anyone watching, we look like exactly what we're pretending to be: a hunter and his willing prize.
Maksim's office is all dark wood and expensive artwork. The man himself sits behind a massive desk, his mask from last night is gone and in it’s place is the flat look I’ve come to know all these men to wear. They’ve seen everything, survived more. Nikolai Vasiliev sits in the corner looking bored.
"Konstantin." He stands, comes around the desk. "And this must be number four."
"Emilia," I say, keeping my voice casual. "Emilia Markova."
I watch Maksim’s face carefully. If he recognizes the Markov name, he doesn't show it.
"A pleasure." He gestures to the chairs across from his desk. "Please, sit."
We do. I keep my hand on Emilia's knee, a possessive gesture that signals exactly what I want Maksim to think.
"I'll be direct," Maksim says. "Last night, someone attempted to poison Artur Troskoy. The woman wearing number four was seen with the spiked champagne glass just before it shattered. I'd like to understand what happened."
Emilia's leg tenses under my hand. I squeeze gently.
"It was an accident," she says, and her voice is steady. Calm. "I was carrying champagne. Someone bumped into me—" She glances at me. "—and I dropped the glass. It shattered."
"Konstantin says he knocked the glass from your hand."
"Because I was heading to Troskoy to give him a piece of my mind." She doesn't miss a beat. "The glass wasn't meant for him. It was mine. But Konstantin didn't know that, and when he saw me near Troskoy, I suppose he assumed..."
"He assumed you were trying to poison someone." Maksim’s eyes are sharp and assessing. "Why would he assume that?"
"Because I told him I hated the man." She says it with perfect honesty. "My family had business with Troskoy years ago. It ended badly. When I saw him at the masquerade, I was angry. I may have said things I shouldn't have had I been afforded the opportunity."
It's brilliant. Close enough to the truth to be believable, vague enough not to incriminate herself.
Maksim studies her for a long moment. Then his gaze shifts to me.
"And you believed her enough to let her participate in The Hunt?"
"I believed her enough to keep an eye on her." I shrug. "If she'd actually tried something, I would have stopped her."
"But she didn't."
"She grabbed a mask and ran into the forest. I followed. Caught her. Brought her back." I let my smile turn wolfish. "Everything else is between us."
Maksim is quiet, weighing our story.
Finally, he leans back in his chair. "Very well."
Relief floods through me, carefully hidden.
"However," Maksim continues, "I'd appreciate it if you kept Ms. Markova close for the next few days. Just until we're certain there are no other threats to our guests."
"Of course." I stand, pulling Emilia with me. "Anything else?"
"Just one thing." Maksim's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The glass was tested this morning. There were traces of ricin in the champagne residue."
Fuck me.
"So someone tried to poison Emilia," I say carefully.
"Yes. Someone did." Maksim's gaze moves to Emilia. "Any idea who might want you dead, Ms. Markova?"
"Other than Troksoy finishing what he started?" She says it lightly, but there's steel underneath. "I’m a loose end, I suppose."
"Indeed." Maksim stands. "Thank you both for your time. Konstantin, I trust you'll keep me informed if you learn anything useful."
"Always."
We leave the office, and I don't breathe properly until we're back in the elevator.
"That was close," Emilia says quietly.
"Too close." I pull her against my chest. "We need to move faster. The Vasiliev’s aren’t idiots and after they’ve spoken to Troskoy they’ll realise that he didn’t even know you’re still alive, never mind at the Masquerade."
"Then let's drain the rest of the accounts today."
"Can you do it that fast?"
"Watch me."