Page 22 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

"And what about Calista?" she asks eventually, not looking at me.

I hesitate. "What about her?"

"You think Calista could be involved in this?"

"No. She's sharp, but she has no idea about our operations. She's confined to her room most of the day, and with cameras monitoring her every move, I’d know if she were stirring anything up."

Lucrezia exhales, gaze calculating. "Then she could be a wildcard. Dangerous. But useful."

I shove her image to the back of my mind, but it clings stubbornly. Thinking about her now would only cloud my judgment—and I can’t afford that.

"Keep everything locked down," I order the tech. "No outside comms. I want every camera double-checked. Every patrol route reassigned. And I want eyes on everyone from the estate. Especially the new hires."

Lucrezia moves to the door, pausing just before exiting.

"What’s the next move?" she asks.

I stare at the screen—at the frames, at the gaps left behind like ghosts.

"We flush them out," I say. "We turn the trap they set into a coffin."

And this time, I’m going to be the one digging the grave.

XXX

I walk toward my office first with measured steps. Suspicion is already bubbling up beneath my skin. When I reach the large double doors, I signal the guards stationed nearby to start gathering everyone.

One by one, my inner circle begins to filter in—trusted officers, lieutenants, senior guards. Some look confused, others tense. The room slowly fills, the atmosphere thickening with apprehension. Conversations are hushed, eyes flick toward me every few seconds. I stay silent at first, letting the pressure build.

Finally, I stand at the head of the long war table, my hands resting on its edge, knuckles white from how tightly I grip it.

"Full audits," I say, each word clipped and razor-sharp. "Every report, every route, every transaction. I want eyes on everything. Nobody leaves, nobody moves without my clearance."

The murmurs swell, and I see several officers exchange glances. I hold their gazes, daring any of them to speak out of turn. Riven stands beside me—calm, expressionless, loyal as always. His presence is a pillar. But something about it today—about him—makes a part of me itch with unease I can't quite name. Riven has always been my anchor in this world, my most trusted shadow—the one who never misses a beat. He’s supposed to stay on top of things, anticipate every threat before it lands. I built half this empire with him at my side. So why didn’t he see this coming? Why didn’t he tell me?

I watch their faces, cataloging every tick, every muscle twitch, every heartbeat too loud. These are my people, my inner circle. I know their habits, their rhythms. Which is exactly why I can sense when something doesn’t sit right.

I called Calista here too—not because I think she’s involved, but because I want to read her reaction in real time. I want to see if her fire loses its spark under pressure. If she’s hiding anything, it’ll show.

She is standing at the far end of the room, arms crossed over her chest, eyes sharp but carefully blank. She’s playing it cool—but I know her now. I know her tells.

I turn to Riven, eyes narrowing slightly. "What adjustments have we made so far?"

Riven steps forward, his voice steady and composed. "We’ve begun reevaluating patrol grids across the southern checkpoints—shifting some rotations to avoid pattern predictability."

On the surface, it sounds harmless. Routine. But Calista shifts. Not much—just the slightest narrowing of her eyes, the subtle way her teeth press into her lower lip. Most wouldn’t even notice.

But I do.

I don’t let my gaze linger on her. I turn back to the rest of the room, issuing more instructions, keeping my tone even, sharp, commanding. But my mind is already working—anticipating every variable, plotting every possible angle. I keep scanning the faces in the room, reading reactions, gauging tension levels. My orders come out clipped and precise, but underneath, there's a storm building. Something isn't right—and I intend to peel back every layer until I uncover what’s festering beneath. If she's hiding something... if anyone is... I’ll find out. And there won’t be any mercy when I do.

XXX

"Do you ever knock? Oh my god," she snaps as I walk in without warning.

She’s in nothing but a plain black bra and sweatpants when I enter—her back half-turned, reaching for the sweater on her bed. The moment she sees me, her expression twists into one of pure disgust. She pulls the sweater over her head sharply, eyes narrowing as she glares at me. "What is it now? Another command, another threat?"

I keep my gaze steady. I’ve seen plenty of bodies before, and hers—bare skin and black lace—has never affected me. But it messes with my control more than I want to admit. I close the door behind me, letting the soft click echo between us.

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