Page 163 of King of Envy

I released a slow, shaky breath that gradually turned into a laugh. I was fine. I was simply being paranoid.

I returned the knife to the kitchen and went back to the living room to grab my water bottle. It was halfway out of my purse when a manila envelope caught my eye. It sat on the coffee table amidst a pile of magazines, knitting needles, and a legal pad filled with notes from my last call with Sloane. It blended in with the mess, which was why I’d missed it earlier.

My heart picked up speed again. I stared at it, frozen.

There was no return address or text on the envelope. It was perfectly innocuous.

It was also proof that someone had been inside my apartment because itdefinitelyhadn’t been there when I left.

I edged toward the table and picked up the envelope with a trembling hand. Whoever left this was gone, but that didn’t stop an army of ants from crawling over my skin.

I wanted to run downstairs and open it in the safety of company or toss it in the trash and pretend I never saw it.

But I didn’t.

I retrieved its contents and?—

My stomach lurched. I gagged, the remnants of dinner surging up my throat as I stared at the images in horror.

They were photos. Bloody, gruesome photos of a man’s mutilated corpse. He was so mangled, he looked like something out of a slasher movie.

There was a note clipped to one of the photos. It contained one sentence typed out in neat black font.

It’s time you found out exactly the type of man Vuk Markovic really is.

CHAPTER45

Vuk

Ispent my weekend knee-deep in paperwork and calls. Amidst all the Brotherhood and Emmanuelle drama, I actually did have a company to run. My staff had kept things flowing while I’d been busy with other priorities, but if I didn’t buckle down before the holidays, I’d have a mutiny on my hands.

However, all thoughts of product launches and fiscal reports evaporated when Dominic emailed me Monday afternoon.

Subject: Done

The email contained no text, only an attachment. After the prerequisite cybersecurity checks, I downloaded the folder and opened the files.

My pulse thundered as I read through the documents. My team was good, but tracing money trails wasn’t in their wheelhouse. It was in Dominic’s.

I’d given him Shepherd’s old safe house address. He was able to take that grain of information and chase it all the way to the end.

The intricate web of aliases and shell companies would’ve taken normal forensic accountants years to untangle, but Dominic’s team wasn’t normal; they were the best of the best. Plus, the favor I’d promised him provided strong incentive for him to find what I was looking for within my given timeframe.

Say what you will about the man, but he got the job done.

I skipped past the unnecessary details and zeroed in on the name at the end of the trail.

The breath vanished from my lungs, and I smiled.

Bingo.

* * *

After I found out what I needed to know, I saved Dominic’s files to a secure location and deleted his original email. I kept my revelation to myself for now. I had to be strategic about how I used the information, which meant I couldn’t rush into action yet—no matter how much I wanted to.

The next afternoon, I went to the Valhalla Club for my shooting lesson with Ayana. She’d been strangely distant since Friday night. She hadn’t texted me as frequently as she usually did, and when I reached out, she replied with uncharacteristically terse answers. She said she was simply stressed about the Emmanuelle situation, but I suspected there was something she wasn’t telling me.

“You’re early,” I said. I’d arrived fifteen minutes before our scheduled lesson, but Ayana was already waiting in our usual stall. She normally didn’t bring any accessories with her, but today, she carried a giant tote slung over her shoulder.

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