Page 147 of Milo

"Are you sure? I can see that there's something on your mind. What is it?"

Her face tenses. "Sometimes in life, Kiara, you must do what is necessary to survive."

I frown. "What does that mean?"

"You're the genius, right?" Her lips curl into a scowl. "Figure it out." She points to the door. "And get the fuck out of my room."

I scoff, heading to the door. "If I were you, I'd be careful, Vittoria. I just killed a man, perhaps I'm a little unhinged right now. Don't provoke me, okay?"

Her face pales. "Leave."

She's tougher than I gave her credit for. A shame. She was so close to cracking.

"Sweet dreams, Vittoria.”

I make my way to Milo's office, my brain pulsing as I try to wrack my head around what the fuck is going on. What is she planning? Who does she work for? Does Igor speak Arabic? Was she actually in Russia? Survival? What was she talking about? So many questions and none of them link together. There's no common ground. I can't solve a puzzle with half the fucking pieces missing. It's impossible.

I bust into Milo's office without knocking. "Did you know Vittoria speaks Arabic?"

Marchello and Milo look up from the computer. "What?" Milo asks as I sit down on the chair in front of him.

"Arabic," I repeat myself. "I just overheard her on the phone speaking to someone. Thought you'd want to know."

Milo pinches the bridge of his nose, reclining in his chair. "Kiara, she studied abroad for a year when she was in university. I think it was in Dubai."

"Oh." I cross my arms. "Does her sister also speak Arabic?"

"I don't know, Kiara," Milo says in a tired tone. "Why?"

"When I asked her who she was talking to, she said it was her sister. Doesn't that seem weird to you? Why would she speak Arabic to her sister?"

"Why were you eavesdropping on her?" Marchello asks, taking a sip of coffee. "That is also weird, don't you think?"

I shoot him a glare. "I just happen to be passing by."

"Mmm, of course," he hums, checking the time. "Perhaps you should go back to sleep, Kiara. We have a lot of work to do."

I roll my eyes, ignoring him. "Milo, come on, you don't think that's suspicious behavior?"

"Kiara," he sighs. "I have just spent seven hours going through footage and recordings of our new recruits, trying to find the mole. I do not have the energy to deal with this right now."

"Why are you looking through footage? She's lying. There's no mole! You're wasting your time."

"Kiara, please," Milo pleads, his tone low. "We have more footage to comb through and we need to adjust our plans for the Russians. Can you please just let this go? Please?"

"No. God, why don't you believe me? Seriously, Milo? Why? You said you don't trust her, yet you're changing your plans? What plans? For new year’s?”

Milo nods. "Yes, we cannot follow through. It could be a trap."

"Oh my God," I whimper, losing my mind. "There's no trap, baby, there isn't. Trust me, please." This is insane. What is he doing?! "Don't change your plans. You said everything is ready to go! It's almost over, Milo. You're so close. Don't stop now just because she claims there's an insider."

Marchello frowns. "She knows about new year's?" he growls. "Milo! Are you an idiot? Why would you tell her?!"

Milo slams his hand on the table. "You do not speak to me like that!"

Marchello grinds his teeth, glaring at me. "Why is it that you do not want us to believe there is a mole? Huh, Kiara? Why are you so adamant that we follow through with our plans? Hmm? Maybe perhaps it is because you have something to gain."

Oh my fucking God!

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