Page 120 of Raven

Good. It’s better not to beat around the bush with a guy like this.

“I also know that you are involved with her,” he says.

I don’t clarify that I was but not anymore. For a second, I wonder if he has a chart on his wall, sort of like those butcher charts, where he marks which part of my body he’ll cut off first.

“Why are you not calling her?” I ask carefully.

“I tried, Mr. Levi.” His voice is calm and somewhat indifferent, though the Russian accent can make even the gentlest words sound like a death sentence. “She never responded. Probably for the best.”

I cock a brow. “How so?”

“Because she can disappear again. So, I am talking to you. I hope we understand each other.”

“I see.” And maybe this is a good time to tell him that I might not be the best person to talk to. “What makes you think I care what choice she makes?”

“Please, do not play stupid, Mr. Levi.”

“Milena and I are not involved anymore,” I say.

“But you still have a tracking app on your phone for her. And her entire Ayana account. And motion sensors around her house. Am I wrong?”

My stomach twists.

I’ve seen a fair share of hackers infiltrating others’ profiles. I literally watched entire lives live-streamed through a camera on their personal mobile devices. I know a guy who can look at a name in front of him, pick up his phone, and get into any bank account, social security or DMV record. I’m not even talking about social platforms—that’s child play.

But this is Ayana. Its private network is protected by a complex security system and overlooked by serious hackers who are paid a hefty amount of money to do just that—monitor potential breaches. You need to have people on the inside, in the fucking Center, to know what’s going on in my phone.

I feel like I’m under a microscope. Did he read my messages too?

“There is no need to panic, Mr. Levi,” that same calm voice says.

I am not panicking. I am fucking cornered.

“I would like you to get me in touch with my daughter. Do it in such a way that she has no option but to talk to me. I would hate to fly there with my team”—there is no way to miss the special accent on “team,” whether that means bodyguards or assassins or a fucking army of headhunters—“and make a spectacle. Do you understand me? It would be a very unpleasant ‘parents’ week,’ if you know what I mean. Mr. Ortiz would agree.”

Oh, there we fucking go. Fucking fuck.

“Maybe it is better you talk to Archer Crone,” I say, trying to keep calm.

“I will. Considering he lied to me before, you will set up that meeting.”

“Please, let me clarify. He never did.”

“Is that so?”

Unlike Butcher, who is a reckless nobody, Tsariuk is a different kind of dangerous. And I don’t mind being overly polite. “Mr. Crone didn’t know about Milena until very recently.”

“But you did.”

I don’t answer. He knows he is right.

“You see, Mr. Levi? You did that against your better judgment, yes? And against Mr. Crone’s interest? I am intrigued. I think…” He pauses, and I can feel him savoring what he is about to say. “I think you did that because you were and still are involved with my daughter. Please do not interrupt me. I do not like petty lies. I think you have leverage, Mr. Levi. I think she listens to you. You will help me out. And I will make sure that everyone gets out of this predicament with minimal damage.”

“But damage, nevertheless?” I probe.

“You are an insightful man, Mr. Levi. I have heard that about you. But there is always damage. I would like certain compensation. We will talk later about it. And I would like my daughter back.”

It’s the latter that makes my world spin. He can’t. And not because I don’t want her to leave. Or because just the thought of never seeing her again makes me want to take out my stiletto and slash myself in a crazy jigsaw pattern and bleed to death. But because she doesn’t want it. I know it.

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