Page 56 of Filthy Lies

“Of course.”

“I would be present the entire time.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He studies my face. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’m serious about keeping Sofiya safe. If understanding Grigor helps with that, then yes, I’m serious.”

Vince is quiet for so long that I think he’s going to refuse. Finally, he nods once.

“I’ll make arrangements. But Rowan—” His eyes lock with mine. “If at any point I say we leave, we leave. No questions, no arguments.”

“Agreed.”

From the next room, Margaret’s voice calls weakly. I rise immediately. “I should get back to her.”

Vince catches my hand. “We’ll figure this out. All of it. Together.”

I lean down and kiss his tattooed knuckles. “Yeah,” I whisper into his palm. “I know.”

23

VINCE

“They’re regrouping.”

Arkady’s voice crackles through the secure line. For a man who never worries, he sounds pretty fucking worried.

“Where?” I ask, moving to the window of my study. Outside, the morning sun casts long shadows across the compound.

“Warehouses in Red Hook. Our surveillance caught at least thirty of those Solovyov fucks gathering last night. Heavy weapons. Encrypted comms. This isn’t a defensive posture, Vin.”

I watch as one of my security men passes below, rifle slung across his chest. “How long?”

“Days, probably. A week at most.”

I end the call and set the phone down slowly as I think. The Solovyovs are nothing if not predictable—wounded pride demands retribution. They failed to keep Rowan and Sofiya as leverage. Now, they want blood.

Mine, specifically.

The door opens behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Rowan. Her scent fills the room long before she does.

“Bad news?” she asks.

I turn to face her. Sofiya sleeps against her shoulder, tiny fingers curled into that ever-present fist near her mouth. The sight still punches me in the gut—this perfect creature we created, slumbering with no idea of the chaos raging around her.

“The Solovyovs are mobilizing again.”

Her arms tighten instinctively around our daughter. “Here?”

“Not yet. But soon.” I cross to them, brushing a finger across Sofiya’s cheek. “We need to make a move before they do.”

“What kind of move?”

“Sofiya’s christening. Next week.”

Rowan blinks, confusion replacing the fear in her eyes. “We’re doing her christening? Now? With everything that’s happening?”

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