Chapter 32 Tony
Tony
Sasha hasn’t spoken in twenty minutes.
She stares out the window of our rented car as the London suburbs give way to the countryside with her fingers laced together in her lap.
I know she’s running through the same scenarios I am.
What Adrian might say. How his guards might be positioned.
Which exits we can reach if everything falls apart.
I take the turn onto the private road that leads to Thornfield Manor and feel my stomach tighten.
We’ve planned for this moment. We’ve discussed contingencies and backup options and worst-case outcomes until my head spun from the weight of it all.
But planning and execution are two different things, and right now, we’re driving to the home of a man who wants to destroy everything Sasha loves.
“Boris confirmed his team is in position,” I state, breaking the silence. “Six men in the tree line on the eastern perimeter and six more staged near the service road for extraction.”
Sasha nods without looking at me. “What if we can’t reach the windows for visual signals?”
“Then we improvise. Boris knows to breach if we’re not out within three hours. But if things go wrong before that, I’ll say we’re done here.’ Boris’s spotters should be able to hear through the study windows, and that’s their signal to move.”
“Three hours is a long time.”
“It’s also enough time to let Adrian talk himself into a corner.” I glance at her profile. “You ready for this?”
She finally turns to meet my eyes. “The real question is whether Adrian’s ready for us.”
The manor comes into view as we round a bend in the road, and I take my first look at our destination.
Thornfield is everything I expected from a man like Adrian Belmont.
Georgian architecture, immaculate grounds, and a long gravel drive lined with manicured hedges.
It’s the kind of estate that screams loud power.
It also screams fortress.
I count eight guards visible from the front approach alone. Two at the main gate, two flanking the entrance, and four more patrolling the perimeter in pairs. Adrian spent serious money on protection for this meeting.
“Eight that we can see,” Sasha mumbled, echoing my thoughts. “Probably twice that inside.”
“At least.”
We pull up to the gate, and one of the guards approaches the driver’s side window. He’s built like a rugby player, with a shaved head and the dead eyes of someone who’s seen combat.
“Names?” he demands.
“Tony Haugh and Sasha Kozlov. Mr. Belmont is expecting us.”
The guard checks a tablet, then nods to his partner. The gate swings open, and he waves us through. “Park in front of the main entrance. Someone will meet you there.”
I ease the car up the drive, keeping my speed slow and my movements predictable. No sudden actions. Nothing that might spook the armed men watching our every move.
A woman in a dark suit is waiting on the front steps as we park. She’s got the same flat affect as the gate guard, and I’d bet my last dollar she’s carrying at least two concealed weapons under that jacket.
“Mr. Haugh. Miss Kozlov.” She doesn’t offer her hand. “I’ll need to search you both before you enter.”
Sasha and I exchange a glance that’s entirely for show. We expected this, planned for it, made sure we had nothing to find.
The search is thorough. The woman checks every pocket, every seam, every possible hiding spot for electronics or weapons. She runs a handheld scanner over our clothes and has us remove our shoes for inspection. When she’s satisfied, she gestures toward the door.
“Follow me. Mr. Belmont is waiting in the study.”
The interior of Thornfield Manor matches the exterior. High ceilings, antique furniture, and oil paintings in gilded frames. Adrian’s taste runs toward opulence, and he’s spared no expense making sure visitors understand exactly how wealthy and powerful he considers himself.
We pass through a marble foyer, down a wood-paneled hallway, and stop before a set of heavy oak doors. The woman knocks twice, waits for a muffled response, then pushes them open.
The study beyond is exactly the kind of stage Adrian would choose for this confrontation.
Massive bookshelves line the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that probably cost more than most cars. A massive stone fireplace dominates one end of the room, and above it is a portrait of Adrian himself, looking every inch the cultured gentleman he pretends to be.
Three chairs have been arranged in the center of the space. Two face the third, which sits slightly elevated on a small platform. The message is obvious. Adrian intends to hold court, with Sasha and me as his supplicants.
Guards flank every exit. I count six in the study alone, plus the woman who escorted us. That’s seven armed professionals between us and any possible escape route.
Adrian rises from behind an antique desk as we enter, and I’m struck again by how much he’s deteriorated since our first meeting. But his smile is bright and eager as he spreads his arms in welcome.
“Tony. And the lovely Sasha.” He moves toward us with the energy of a man who’s been waiting years for this moment. “I’m so pleased you could join me this evening.”
Sasha goes stiff beside me, playing her part flawlessly. “Tony, what is this? I thought we were meeting one of your colleagues.”
Adrian’s smile widens. “Oh, but you are, my dear. Tony and I go back quite a ways, don’t we, Tony?”
I keep my face neutral. “Adrian.”
“Please, sit.” Adrian gestures toward the two lower chairs. “We have so much to discuss.”
I guide Sasha toward the chairs with a hand on her lower back, feeling the subtle tremor she’s manufactured for Adrian’s benefit. She’s selling the confusion and unease beautifully. Anyone watching would believe she has no idea what’s happening.
Adrian settles into his elevated seat and crosses his legs, the picture of a man completely in control of his domain. “I imagine you have questions, Sasha. I’m happy to provide answers. In fact, that’s precisely why I arranged this little gathering.”
“I don’t understand.” Sasha’s voice wavers perfectly. “Tony, what is he talking about?”
Adrian holds up a hand before I can respond.
“Allow me. You see, Sasha, your friend Tony isn’t quite who he claims to be.
He’s not a journalist, though he does have a talent for cover stories.
He’s a former CIA operative with a very particular set of skills.
Skills I hired him to use against your family. ”
Sasha turns to look at me, and the betrayal in her eyes is so convincing that for a moment even I almost believe it. “What?”
“Several months ago, I offered Tony a substantial sum to infiltrate the Kozlov organization,” Adrian continues, clearly relishing every word.
“His mission was simple. Get close to you. Earn your trust. Gather intelligence about your brothers’ operations.
And when the time was right, deliver you to me. ”
“That’s not…” Sasha shakes her head, and her voice breaks. “Tony, tell me he’s lying.”
I say nothing. That’s what Adrian expects from me. Guilty silence. The confession of a man caught in his own deception.
Adrian leans forward in his chair, drinking in Sasha’s reaction like fine wine.
“I chose Tony specifically because of he knows how to make people trust him. How to become whatever his target needs him to be. And you needed a hero, didn’t you, Sasha?
Someone to save you from the gallery attack.
Someone to protect you from the big bad world without having to ask your brothers for help. ”
“The gallery attack.” Sasha’s hand flies to her mouth. “That was you?”
“A necessary piece of theater. Tony needed an opportunity to play the hero, and I needed to see how he performed under pressure.” Adrian shrugs as if orchestrating armed robbery is a minor inconvenience. “He exceeded my expectations. Within days, you were looking at him like he hung the moon.”
Sasha’s breathing has grown ragged, and tears brim in her eyes. I know they’re fake, that she’s giving Adrian exactly what he wants, but watching her perform devastation still makes something twist in my chest.
“Everything was a lie?” she whispers.
“I’m afraid so, my dear. Every tender moment. Every sweet word. Every time he touched you.” Adrian’s voice drips with false sympathy. “Tony was simply following my instructions. Building an emotional connection he could exploit when the time came.”
Sasha turns away from both of us, her shoulders shaking. Adrian watches her with naked satisfaction, savoring the destruction he’s been planning for two years.
“Why?” she finally asks. “Why would you do this?”
Adrian’s composure cracks for just a moment, revealing the obsession underneath. “You destroyed everything I built, Sasha. My career. My reputation. My standing in the art world. Twenty years of work, gone because you decided to play detective.”
“You were laundering money through Christie’s. I had to report it.”
“You had to report it.” Adrian spits the words back at her. “You, the daughter of a Bratva family, suddenly developed a conscience about criminal activity? Please. You reported me because I made the mistake of wanting something real with you, and that terrified you.”
Sasha flinches at the accusation, and I can’t tell if that reaction is genuine or performed.
“I trusted you,” Adrian continues. “I brought you into my world, introduced you to my contacts, shared things with you I’d never shared with anyone. And you used all of it to destroy me.”
“Adrian—”
“No.” He cuts her off with a slash of his hand. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to justify. You made your choice two years ago, and now you’re going to live with the consequences.”
He stands from his chair and begins to pace. The guards around the room stand a little straighter, responding to their employer’s agitation.
“I’ve spent two years building something new, Sasha.
New contacts. New resources. New allies who understand what your family has cost them.
” Adrian stops pacing and turns to face her.
“Do you know what a coalition of enemies can accomplish when they work together? Your brothers have made a lot of people very angry over the years. I’ve found a number of former associates who have found themselves on the wrong side of Kozlov ambition. ”
Sasha says nothing. She’s watching Adrian with wide, frightened eyes, playing the role of a woman whose world is crumbling around her.
“I’ve united all of them,” Adrian declares. “Every family, every organization, every individual who has reason to want the Kozlovs brought to their knees. And together, we have the resources to make it happen. Your brothers’ empire will burn, Sasha. Every bit of it.”
He moves closer to her chair, looming over her like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.
“Unless you give me what I want.”
Sasha’s voice comes out small and trembling. “What do you want?”
“You.” Adrian’s smile returns, but there’s nothing pleasant about it.
“Come back to me, Sasha. Voluntarily. Publicly. Let the world see that you’ve chosen me over your family.
Do that, and I’ll dismantle the coalition.
Your brothers can keep their empire. Your nieces and nephews can grow up safe. All it costs is your pride.”
He crouches down until his face is level with hers, close enough that I have to fight the urge to rip him away from her.
“Or refuse,” he continues, “and watch everything your family built get destroyed. Your brothers will be killed or imprisoned. Your sisters-in-laws will be widowed. Your nieces and nephews will be orphaned. All because you were too proud to admit you made a mistake when you chose them over me.”
Adrian straightens and steps back, spreading his hands as if presenting a reasonable business proposition.
“The choice is yours, Sasha. Your family’s survival, or your freedom.”
The room falls silent. Every guard watches. Every breath seems amplified in the stillness.
Adrian’s eyes never leave Sasha’s face, hungry for her response.