Chapter Eight #3
I watched the light from the fire flicker over the fresh cut on his cheek, the places where glass had marked him, the purple at the base of his neck from where the seatbelt had caught him during the shooting. He looked like a man who’d walked through a war, and survived only by accident.
I hated it.
I stood, crossed to the bed, and sat beside him. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. I put a hand on his jaw, tilted his face up. I looked at the cut, the blood drying in the hairline, the bright green of his eyes.
I ran my thumb over his cheek, gentle for once. He leaned in, just a little, and let the touch steady him.
He finished the chocolate, crawled under the sheet without undressing further, and was asleep in less than a minute.
I watched him breathe. Watched the twitch of his eyelids, the way he curled one hand under his chin. I memorized the pattern of the sheet over his body.
When I was sure he was out, I slipped from the room, closing the door without a sound. At the landing, I summoned the night guard. “No one in or out,” I said. “No one comes up this stairwell without my order.”
He nodded, wordless.
“Not Lin. Not Yuri. Not even the girl.”
He nodded again.
I went to the command room.
It was on the lower level, behind a coded lock and a door made from steel thick enough to turn a tank shell. The inside was a cathedral of screens, every wall alive with camera feeds, maps, schedules, and the shifting constellations of moving parts that kept the estate secure.
Yuri was already there, two steps ahead, as always.
He met me at the center table. “Perimeter is clean. No vehicles in the area. The shell company that rented the car at the shooting scene is registered to a dummy address in Tallinn. Tech is working it.”
“Have you checked the house?”
He nodded. “Lin swept the staff, no new hires, no deliveries. Sasha has not left the grounds since noon.”
I considered this. “Bring her to the interview room. Quietly.”
He hesitated. “You want me there?”
“No. I’ll handle it.”
He left.
I sat at the table and reviewed the feeds from the shooting. Two shooters, as Yuri had said, with a third man on comms. Their faces were covered, but their walk was all wrong for hired muscle. They were too disciplined, too calm, and definitely not local. I’d know if they were.
I noted that detail, then turned to the other screens: the estate, the bedroom, the empty hallways, the places where a body could disappear if needed. I checked the locks, the fire points, the panic rooms.
Everything was in order.
Yuri returned. “She’s waiting.”
“Good,” I said as I stood and started out of the room. “Wait outside.”
He nodded and took up position by the door once we reached the interview room.
It was a windowless space, furnished only with two chairs and a table. Sasha sat at the far side, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. She wore the same pearls, but had changed into a pale silk blouse. She looked up at me with the warmth of a grave.
“Is this about dinner plans?” she asked, innocent.
I didn’t sit. “Who did you call today?”
She blinked, then smiled. “You’re angry.”
“Answer.”
She shrugged, elegant. “I called my hairdresser. The club. The florist. I sent a text to my mother. Would you like to see the logs?”
I stared at her, not moving.
She held my gaze, not backing down.
“Was it you?” I said.
She considered. “I suppose that depends on what ‘it’ is.”
I watched the play of her eyes, the tilt of her mouth. She had rehearsed this. “You wanted me dead,” I said. “Or him.”
She laughed, low and sharp. “Please, if I wanted you dead, you would be.”
“You’re sloppy, Sasha. You always have been.”
Her nostrils flared, just a breath. “Don’t insult me, Vadim.”
I let the silence drag, let the air in the room grow dense. Then I said, “If I find out it was you, there won’t be a warning shot.”
She stood, slow. “You won’t find out anything because there is nothing to find. I know you’re paranoid, Vadim, but blame this on someone else.”
I didn’t believe her and I hated that I didn’t believe her. Sasha had grown up in this house. To suddenly not be able to trust her was like a punch to the gut.
“If my father could see how you’re treating his daughter, he never would have saved your life at the cost of his.”
That barb hurt, and I was pretty sure she meant it to hurt. Her father had given his life to save mine and I never forgot that, but that didn’t mean I would let her hurt Iren.
I did not move as she brushed past me, the scent of her perfume leaving a trail in the air like a dare.
I let her go.
In the command room, I found Yuri still waiting. He did not look up, just kept working the keyboard. “Keep eyes on her,” I said. “All night.”
“Understood.”
I checked the feeds one last time, making sure the bedroom was still secure. I watched the footage for a full minute, watched Iren turn in the sheets, watched the way his hair fell across his face, watched the tension in his body even in sleep.
I locked the door behind me as I went back up. I took the chair by the fire again, and waited for morning.
The rage was still there.
It was the only thing that kept him safe.