Chapter 21: Filthy Lies: Chapter 21

The phone call comes at 3 A.M.

I’m half-awake already, watching my women sleep. Sofiya’s fist rests against Rowan’s breast, like she’s staking her claim even in slumber. As if I needed proof that she’s my daughter.

Mine. Both of them are mine. They’ve found peace I can’t afford, not in this life. But that doesn’t mean I can’t watch them and breathe just the tiniest bit easier, knowing that my sacrifices help them sleep without nightmares.

But then comes the call.

The phone vibrates against the nightstand. I grab it before the sound can wake them. “Speak,” I answer, voice low as I slip from the bedroom.

Arkady wastes no time. “Kevin Peterson is dead.”

I frown. “That’s impossible. He’s in Costa Rica.”

“He was in Costa Rica.” Arkady pauses. “Until someone put three bullets in his head and dumped him in the ocean. Local fishermen found the body this morning.”

I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a migraine. “Who gave the order?”

“That’s just it, boss. No one knows. It wasn’t one of our people in Costa Rica. They’re as surprised as we are.”

“Blyat’.” I rub my temples. “Get me everything. Security footage, witness statements, autopsy report. I want to know what he ate for breakfast three weeks ago.”

“Copy that.”

I hang up and stare out the window at the pre-dawn darkness. This makes no sense. Kevin Peterson was supposed to be safe. I’d given explicit instructions for him to be relocated, not eliminated.

Someone in my organization has directly defied me.

And it’s not just about one middling former employee. It’s about what I promised Rowan—that I could show mercy, that I could find solutions beyond violence.

Now, I’ll have to tell her I failed.

Before I can process this, my phone rings again. Arkady again. Him calling back that quickly can only be bad.

“Tell me you have better news,” I answer.

“I wish.” His voice is grim. “The financing for the Costa Rica project has fallen through. Completely. The banks have pulled out. All of them.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “All of them? We had five different institutions backing us.”

“All of them,” he confirms. “Within hours of each other. Like it was coordinated.”

“This isn’t a coincidence,” I growl. “Get to the compound. Bring everything we have on the financing arrangements.”

“There’s one more thing,” Arkady adds with a wince, like he’s worried this last straw will be what pushes me over the edge. “Nikolai Barkov’s men have been moving around Brighton Beach. Gathering. Like they’re preparing for something.”

Fuck.

The sun is just beginning to rise when Arkady arrives in person, his face strained as he drops a stack of files on my desk.

“The lead bank’s president claims they received information suggesting the project was a money laundering operation,” he explains.

“What information?”

“Financial records and internal communications, mostly. Some of it manufactured, some of it real but taken wildly out of context.” Arkady spreads out several documents. “Whoever did this had access to material only someone inside our organization would have.”

I examine the financial records, anger building with each page I turn. These are sophisticated forgeries—transaction histories and wire transfers doctored to make legitimate business dealings look suspicious.

“This is professional work,” I mutter. “Not Barkov. He’s always been a blunt instrument, even before we sawed off his edges.”

“I agree.” Arkady leans against the desk. “This is someone with intimate knowledge of our operations.”

“My father.”

Arkady’s expression darkens. “Your father is still under house arrest. His communications are monitored.”

“Monitored, not eliminated. He still has loyalists.”

“True, but this doesn’t feel like Andrei’s style, either. Too passive.”

I stand and pace to the window. The betrayal burns in my chest. I’d shown mercy to Kevin Peterson—against every instinct beaten into me since childhood—because Rowan believed I could be better than my father.

And now, Peterson is dead anyway, the Costa Rica project is in ruins, and I’ll have to face her disappointment. After everything she’s been through—the kidnapping, giving birth in captivity, discovering her biological father—this feels like one more failure I can’t protect her from.

“The timing is too perfect,” I say. “Kevin’s death, the financing collapse, Barkov’s movements. Someone’s making a play against us.”

“But who has that level of access?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” I turn back to him. “Start with the people who knew about Kevin’s relocation. That was a closely guarded operation.”

Arkady nods. “What about the banks? Should we try to salvage the financing?”

I shake my head. “Too late for that, and too pointless. We need to identify the leak before we can rebuild.”

The sound of a door opening makes me look up. Rowan stands in the doorway, Sofiya clutched against her chest. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, her hair loose around her shoulders. Even exhausted, she’s an angel.

And I’m about to disappoint her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, taking in the scattered papers and our grim expressions.

“Arkady, give us a minute.”

He nods and steps out, closing the door behind him.

Rowan approaches my desk, shifting Sofiya to her other arm. “Vince, what’s happened?”

I come around the desk and guide her to the leather sofa against the wall. “Kevin Peterson is dead.”

Her eyes go huge. “What? How?”

“Executed. Professional hit.”

“But… but you sent him to Costa Rica. You gave him a chance.”

“Someone didn’t agree with my decision.” I take her free hand in mine. “There’s more. The financing for the Costa Rica development has collapsed. All five banks pulled out simultaneously.”

“That’s not a coincidence.”

“No, it’s not.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Someone with detailed knowledge of our operations has been feeding information to our enemies.”

“You think it’s your father?”

“I’m not sure. But whoever it is, they’re trying to undermine everything we’re building.”

Rowan is quiet for a moment as she processes. “Kevin had a family,” she says finally. “A mother in that care facility.”

“I know. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a weight to her gaze I wasn’t expecting. Not disappointment, but something harder. Resolve.

“Find who did this, Vince.”

“I will.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Her voice turns to steel. “Find them and make an example of them. The kind that ensures no one ever thinks of crossing you again.”

I stare at her, surprised. This is not the reaction I anticipated.

“You once showed mercy for my sake,” she continues. “And someone threw that back in your face. Used it to make you look weak.” She glances down at our daughter. “We can’t afford to be seen as weak. Not anymore.”

My heart clenches with a savage kind of satisfaction mixed with grief. The innocent woman I vowed to protect is dead, murdered by circumstance and necessity. In her place stands a queen of darkness, drenched in blood and shadows, who sees the brutal truth of my empire with eyes every bit as cold as mine.

“I’ll handle it,” I promise.

My phone vibrates with a text. I check it, then look back at Rowan. “Arkady’s received some new information about Barkov’s movements. I need to deal with this.”

“Go.” She stands, adjusting Sofiya against her shoulder. “Just remember what I said.”

I kiss her forehead, then Sofiya’s, before heading to the door.

Arkady is waiting in the hallway, phone in hand.

“What have you got?” I ask.

“One of Barkov’s men was spotted meeting with someone at the Marina. Security cameras caught this.” He shows me a grainy image on his phone.

The figure meeting with Barkov’s associate is familiar—tall, thin, with a distinctive way of standing. I’ve seen him dozens of times over the years.

My father’s accountant.

Not my father directly, but close enough. Someone with access to all our financial records, all our business dealings, all our secrets.

“Get the car,” I tell Arkady. “And call Dimitri. Tell him to bring his special toolkit.”

“What about Rowan? Should we increase security here?”

I glance back at the closed study door. “Double the guard rotation. No one gets within a mile of this place without our knowledge.”

As we head for the door, my determination grows fangs. I’d attempted to become the merciful man Rowan thought I could be. But someone mistook my restraint for vulnerability.

That ends today.