Page 33 of Black Castle

His phone vibrates again.

He inhales sharply, a faint tick in his jaw.

Because he is. He always is.

Does he feel like going to bed? Yes.

Will he go to bed?

Not if she is still interested in keeping the conversation going.

His gaze flickers to the new set of blue light illuminating the dark room, a gentle buzz slicing through the quiet air.

It’s his other phone. Another life. One Vivienne isn’t aware of.

Lucan shifts, stretching over to grab the phone from his nightstand. His thumb immediately swipes across the screen, the phone brought to his ear.

“Sokolov,” he answers, his voice low and controlled. It’s his second-in-command, Alex Sokolov.

A soft chuckle comes from the other side. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake, boss.”

Lucan glances at the other phone. Vivienne’s last message is still displayed on the screen. Do you wanna stay awake all night with me, then? We can talk about stuff.

“I didn’t think so too.”

Sokolov doesn’t pry. He never does. Because he is never meant to. All he has to do is obey instructions, carry out his duty to its fullness and protect his Pakhan and the Bratva at all cost.

“We’re heading off to the dork in an hour,” Sokolov informs. “The shipment’s cleared. But I need the confirmation from the previous manifest. I need to verify the last drop before I finalize the deal with the client.”

Lucan’s fingers tighten gently around the device. His gaze drifts to the door of his room. His indoor office is all the way across the hall.

“Wasn’t it cleared the last time?” Lucan asks.

“With the Cosa Nostra, yes. The ‘Ndrangeta are still down with ten percent to clear up. The Camorra cleared the last one plus the previous one. The Luchesse is who we are meeting at the port. I can’t remember if they cleared the last one. I need you to help me confirm before we finalize the deal,” Sokolov explains. “You know they can be sketchy. Always trying to be smart.”

“Alright,” Lucan exhales tiredly. “Give me some minutes.”

“Take your time, boss.” There is a shuffle of boots against the pavement. “In the meantime, we’ll be heading to the dork.”

Lucan hangs up, pushing himself off the bed.

His other phone buzzes with a message.

Lucan takes in a sharp breath.

With his other phone slipped into his pocket, Lucan walks across the room, opens the door, and goes straight into his ensuite living room.

Approaching the exit door, he pulls it open. The hallway is dark and quiet, except for the distant hum of the city beyond the forest of spruce and cedar, which his home is nestled in.

Proceeding to his office, he keys in the code, and a robotic chime sounds as the door is unlocked.

As soon as he enters, the office is filled with the scent of paper, ink, and a touch of sandalwood, rose and earth. And it’s just the way he left it; minimalist, orderly, untouched by anything that doesn’t belong or serve a purpose.

He walks across the room to the large steel safe, which is built into the wall behind a bookshelf. His fingers hover over the lock before he begins to input the codes.

A faint click echoes and the heavy door pulls open.

He freezes, eyes narrowing at the sight.

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