Page 98 of Royal Deception
I scroll down, trying to piece it together. My fingers pause as I stare at the geographical location data attached to the IP.
It’s right in the heart of Thornville. Smack dab in Russian territory.
And the stalker’s name?
Dmitry Petrov.
41
RORY
The bar is dimly lit, the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses filling the silence between the three of us. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light as we wait. Lev is late for our meeting.
Lucky leans back against the booth, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they flick between me and Liam. “Alright, enough of this brooding bullshit,” he says, breaking the silence. “What’s with you lately?”
Liam exhales sharply, tipping his drink back before answering. “What are you talking about?”
Lucky rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been off for weeks. Moody as hell. Snapping at people. Disappearing whenever you get the chance. And don’t give me some bullshit about work stress.”
Liam huffs, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I’ve got a lot on my plate? That I’ve been handling shit none of you even notice?”
I arch a brow. “You think we don’t notice?”
Liam meets my gaze, his jaw tightening. “I think you’re too busy to care.”
My fingers tighten around my glass, but I keep my voice even. “That so?”
“Forget it,” he mutters, looking away.
Lucky scoffs. “Real convincing, Liam. If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
Liam doesn’t answer, just downs the rest of his drink, eyes fixed on the bottle in front of him like it holds all the answers he refuses to give.
I glance at my watch, my patience thinning. Lev had better show up soon. I don’t have time for whatever the hell is going on with Liam right now.
Before Lucky can press Liam any further, the door to the bar swings open and a man steps inside, hood pulled low, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear into the dim lighting.
Lev.
Even in disguise, I’d recognize that rat bastard anywhere. His movements are stiff, as though he's trying to act casual, but every inch of him betrays the tension running through his veins. He walks toward our booth like he knows exactly where he's headed, but there’s a slight unease in his pace. When he reaches us, he places a plain cardboard box on the table, his hands quick to pull away as if he’s afraid we might notice the shaking.
“You’re late,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Lev glances at me, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I was careful," he mutters, then nods at the box. “I grabbed as much as I could.”
I glance at it but don't reach for it yet. “Did anyone follow you?”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, but I don’t feel good about it. I used someone else’s keycard. Someone Anatolywouldn’t think twice about seeing on the entry logs. Don’t feel good for putting someone else’s life on the line for this.”
I study Lev, noticing the way his jaw clenches. His gaze flicks around the room, eyes darting like he’s expecting someone to step out from the shadows. He’s nervous.
“What are you worried about?” I ask, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my voice. “You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. I’m sure that person will be fine, you’ll be fine. Anatoly will be locked away in an upstate facility.”
Lev looks between the three of us, his face tight with panic. “I did my part. I’ve done everything you asked. Please, don’t hurt my family. Just… leave them out of this.”
I feel a flicker of satisfaction, watching the desperation in his eyes. He knows he’s on borrowed time.
“We’ve got what we need,” I say, my voice low and cold. “But don’t ever show your face on our turf again, Lev. If we see you anywhere near us, you’re a dead man.”
