Page 159 of Filthy Lies

“It’s already working. The feds are focused on the Solovyovs. Our Costa Rica project is proceeding without scrutiny. Our shipping operations continue uninterrupted.” I lean forward, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. “I’m not asking you to abandon the old ways overnight. I’m asking you to recognize that the landscape has changed, and we must change with it.”

The mood in the room shifts subtly. Fear gives way to thoughtfulness as these men—predators to their core—consider the advantages of operating while their competitors are caged.

“When did you become so…” Mikhail searches for the word, “ … patient, Vincent? This doesn’t sound like the man who once had Yuri Kozlov gutted for looking at your woman.”

I smile, thinking of Rowan. She’s changed me; there’s no denying that anymore. But from what? Into what?

That remains to be seen.

“Let’s just say I’ve had an excellent teacher in seeing beyond immediate gratification to the longer game.”

My phone vibrates against my thigh. I pull it out discreetly, expecting another update from Arkady’s doctors.

Instead, I find a message from Rowan:Need to meet. Urgent. Come to the lake house tonight at 8.

Something in my chest tightens. Rowan doesn’t use the word “urgent” lightly. Not anymore. And the lake house—our most secluded property—suggests whatever she wants to discuss is too sensitive even for the compound’s secure walls.

“I’ll send the transition details to each of you by tonight,” I tell the council, rising abruptly. “Review them. Prepare your questions. We’ll reconvene in forty-eight hours.”

“And if we reject this evolution?” Boris asks, playing his final card.

I button my jacket slowly, deliberately, letting the tension stretch to its breaking point before I answer.

“Then you’re free to join the Solovyovs,” I say, voice like black ice. “I’m sure Anton is looking for a friendly face in his top bunk.”

As I stride toward the elevator, I type out my response to Rowan.I’ll be there. Everything okay?

Three dots appear immediately, then disappear. Then reappear. Seconds stretch into a minute before her reply finally comes through.

Just come. Trust me.

Another message appears before I can respond.

There’s something you need to see. It changes everything.

59

VINCE

In my world, “changes everything” usually means someone’s about to die. The question is who.

The gravel driveway crunches under my tires as I pull up to our secluded lake house property. Security scans reveal no immediate threats, but my instincts scream danger.

I’ve survived this long by listening to them. I don’t intend to stop now.

I step out of the car, hand resting on the gun at my hip…

… and freeze.

Another vehicle sits parked in the shadows. Not Rowan’s. A black Mercedes with bulletproof windows and diplomatic plates.

I know that car.

My blood turns to fucking acid.

“Welcome, Vincent,” a voice calls from the porch.

The voice of Grigor fucking Petrov.

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