The Captive Liar's Eyes

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Aman didn’t wake his brother on his wedding night unless someone was dead, dying, or about to wish they were.

No one was dead yet.

So I let Lucian enjoy his new wife and went to Nikolai Volkov, the Russian bratva’s shadow king, who could bury a government problem behind a wall of code before most men finished their first coffee.

I slapped my palm against the private elevator’s scanner.

The panel rattled as I stared straight ahead, jaw locked, while it glowed red then green.

Seconds later, the doors opened into Nik’s Central Park South penthouse.

Morning had barely cracked over Manhattan, and pale winter light was just beginning to spill through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I was still wearing the tux I’d worn to my brother’s wedding, minus the tie, with a drink carrier in one hand, a sack of bagels in the other, and a legal hit job tucked under my arm.

No sleep.

No patience.

And my Irish temper had burned through every last shred of control I had left, leaving nothing but violence smoldering under my skin and the image of some city attorney’s pretty neck caught between my hands.

The elevator doors whispered shut behind me.

Temporary liquor-license suspension.

Civil enforcement action.

Sexual assault allegation.

Forty-eight hours before escalation.

The words had burned in my gut for the last few hours like battery acid.

Not because I understood every legal twist in the stack of papers Isabella Delgado had shoved at me.

I didn’t. I knew building codes, profit margins, security plans, corrupt cops, drunk rich boys, and how to make a man regret putting his hands where they didn’t belong.

I didn’t know the finer points of the city’s legal paperwork.

But I knew a threat when it walked through my door flanked by the NYPD.

And I sure as hell knew the name Delgado.

A shadow moved at the far end of the hall.

Nik appeared without a sound, barefoot and dressed in black joggers and a dark gray T-shirt, his hair mussed as if he’d either slept badly or not at all. Knowing Nik, it was the latter. His pale eyes swept over me, taking in my disheveled appearance and my weak attempt at breakfast diplomacy.

One corner of his mouth rose.

“That better be coffee.”

“Aye. Brought bagels with lox too—and a city-sized pain in my ass.”

His gaze dropped to the folder tucked under my arm. His faint amusement vanished.

“Your text said there was a problem that couldn’t wait.” His mouth tightened. “You look like shit. What happened?”

“Long night. Figured I’d soften the blow for dragging you out of bed with some of Cipher Coffee’s finest.”

“You didn’t drag me far.” His gaze cut briefly toward the hall that led to his bedroom. “Lacey and I were up late. Weddings make my wife sentimental, and I’m not stupid enough to waste that. She’s finally asleep, so keep your voice down.”

“More than I needed to know.”

“You came to my door at sunrise. You get what you get.”

I almost smiled, but the folder’s edge dug into my palm, dragging me back to why I’d come.

I let out a breath and shook my head, hating that any of us had to deal with this shit today.

“You know I wouldn’t have disturbed you if I had a choice.

But this needs to be handled before Xyst opens tonight, and hell will freeze before I knock on Lucian and Scarlett’s door because a hotshot city attorney decided to gut our club on their wedding night. ”

“After what they survived, they get a few days of peace regardless of whatever fire is burning at Xyst’s front door,” Nik said, stepping closer and taking one of the coffees from the carrier. “And don’t apologize for coming here.”

“I wasn’t apologizing.”

“No.” He tipped his coffee at me. “But you were thinking it. I took the blood oath beside you for a reason, Lach. You need me, you come. Any hour. Any problem.”

I nodded once.

I had two kinds of brothers in this life: the one born to my mother and the ones who’d cut their palms beside mine. Nik belonged to the second kind, and men like him didn’t take oaths lightly.

I followed him to the island between the kitchen and living room, dropped the bagels and drink carrier on the counter, and pulled a coffee free. Neither of us touched the food.

Nik lifted the lid off his cup and breathed in. “Now tell me who was stupid enough to walk into our house thinking they could touch us.”

We crossed the living room together. His office sat behind glass panels on the far side, overlooking the park.

The glass frosted as soon as we entered, and the door latched behind us, sealing the room off from everything but the view.

In Nik’s home, every system could lock a door, watch a room, listen in, or kill access at the touch of a button or spoken command.

“After the reception cleared, and the staff and I had nearly finished cleaning up and prepping for tonight, two uniforms walked in.”

“Precinct?”

“Sixth.”

His eyes slid to mine.

“Aye.” We both knew what that meant. Luca Genovese had owned the Sixth long before Xyst existed, and before we’d become made men under his roof. Luca ran most of Manhattan through politics, money, unions, and favors, while Nik ruled the shadows with enough hacker reach to make governments sweat.

“Anyone else with them?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah—the mouthpiece.”

Nik paused and arched a brow before stepping closer to his desk.

“She was a petite woman with long black hair, wearing a crisp white blouse with one of those fancy navy suits. Confident smile. She was pretty enough to be distracting, but that wasn’t what got my attention. It was her arrogance. As if she were a predator sizing up prey.”

Nik grunted. “Good. Arrogance is what gets most people in trouble.”

I took a sip of coffee and let the heat burn a trail down my throat. “She scanned the room, found me, and locked on. Attitude screaming she’d already won, and carrying enough legal ammunition to bury us six feet under.”

“Name?”

“Isabella Delgado.”

Nik stilled. His expression didn’t change, but something cold and lethal shifted behind his eyes. That was the thing about him. Most men got louder when the air changed. Nik went quiet.

“Before she could say another word, I asked if she was related to Ciro Delgado,” I said, tapping the folder against my thigh.

Nik stared at me. “And?”

“Said she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t so much as blink.

Kept that same smile on her face like I’d asked her about the weather.

” I took another drink. I could read people.

It was one of the few useful gifts God had given me.

“Either she’s the best liar I’ve ever met, or she genuinely doesn’t know him.

Could be the name’s just a coincidence.”

“Anyone named Delgado who walks into Xyst with NYPD backing isn’t just a coincidence.”

I shrugged. “That was my first thought, too, but who knows?”

Nik set his coffee down, pressed his palm to the scanner built into the workstation, and the screens woke one by one in a wash of artificial light.

I tossed the folder onto the desk.

“Start with the pretty attorney,” I said. “I want to know everything. Where she lives. Where she came from. Who she’s working for. And whether she’s connected to Ciro Delgado or just unlucky enough to share his name.”

Nik flipped open the folder and quickly shuffled through the documents.

Then he pointed toward the black leather sofa along the side wall. “Sit. This may take a minute. You look one breath away from putting your fist through something expensive.”

“Then don’t own so much expensive shit.”

His mouth twitched, but his eyes focused on the first document.

I lowered myself onto the sofa and set my coffee on the table beside it. From here, I had a front-row seat to Nik’s entire command center. He took the chair behind his desk and tapped the keyboard in front of him.

Windows began opening across the monitors, and the printer along the wall clicked to life.

Nik read the first page and swore under his breath in Russian.

“What?” I asked.

His eyes moved down the letterhead. “Assistant Corporation Counsel Isabella Delgado, New York City Law Department, Administrative Law and Regulatory Litigation Division. Assigned to the Mayor’s Office of Special Enforcement.”

He looked up at me.

I stared back. “Say that again in English.”

“She’s not some private attorney trying to scare you with stationery. She’s a city lawyer.”

“City lawyer sounds better than whatever the fuck you said before.”

“The Law Department represents the City.” He flicked the page with one finger. “That gives her proper authority.”

“Authority enough to shut Xyst down?”

“Enough to make most men hesitate.”

“Good thing we aren’t the type to hesitate.”

“Yes,” he said, already scanning the next page. “She assumed we’d comply and let our attorneys battle it out with the city. That appears to be her first mistake.”

The screens shifted as he worked, scanning the documents and entering key pieces of information into his system.

One screen displayed the documents; another filled with legal jargon and government-looking files, while a third moved too fast for me to make sense of, lines of text jumping as his fingers slid over the keyboard.

I leaned back, but every muscle in my body stayed tight with irritation.

Nik read in silence for a minute.

Finally, he said, “This isn’t just one case.”

“Didn’t look like a stack of good news.”

“It’s a coordinated hit.” He dragged three documents to the center screen. “City enforcement here. State Liquor Authority here. And this, this is a private civil suit.”

I stared at the pages on the screen. “Cut through the legal BS and tell me what it all means for the club.”

He pointed to the first document. “The City’s framing Xyst as a dangerous venue—a nightlife nuisance, a public-safety threat, and a business that can’t control what happens inside its own walls. If a judge buys it, they can bury us in inspections and restrictions or shut us down outright.”

“They should put that on a billboard. I bet it’d bring more of the filthy rich in.”