Smith scoffs, raising his chin in sheer arrogance. “Miss Sullivan here is the object of your attention. Go on, ask her what you want to ask her, then be on your way.”

For a split second, I’m speechless. I see Max’s gaze narrow. How did these fuckers know we were coming to see Shelby? As if reading my thoughts, Smith continues. “I know everything that you’re doing. I know where you go, who you meet with, what your endgame is. I know it all, and it’s time for you to understand that. You have nothing to surprise us with. Nothing to scare us with. And rest assured, you’re never setting foot in this building ever again. You’re not to come anywhere close to Miss Sullivan. If I so much as catch a whiff of you in the air, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Get a restraining order? Arrest us? For what?” Max chuckles dryly. “You’ve run out of reasons, Director. You’ve run out of warrants. And soon enough, you’ll be running out of excuses and support, too.”

Smith takes a step forward. He’s about half-a-head shorter than Max, but he’s well-built and bold enough to stand up to the three of us. My guess is that the badge and gun give him a certain kind of false confidence. “I will do whatever it takes to see you and your whole organization burned to the ground,” he says. “If you think you’re going to reinvent the wheel, you’ve got another thing coming, Mr. Sokolov. The world doesn’t want change. Even your own people agree.”

“No number of threats will stop us from what we have to do,” Max replies. “Your threats, however, are proof of repetitive harassment. I will be filing a complaint directly with Quantico about this.”

“You go ahead and do that. See how many more raids you can withstand before one of you finally breaks and you let things stay the way they’re supposed to stay.”

“Nothing stays the same forever. Change is inevitable. Adapt or die, Director. It’s been the way of the world since long before this great country was even founded.”

Smith laughs lightly. “You must be delusional to think that you three have what it takes to institute real change in a system designed precisely against it. I will enjoy destroying you, that’s for sure.”

“Max, let’s go,” Ivan cautiously places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “They’re itching for a fight. We’re not going to give them one.”

To my surprise, Ivan is the one talking sense and advocating against any form of violence. Then again, he’s got two good eyes and he knows how to use them. We are outnumbered and outgunned, two to one. And I’ll bet there are more agents waiting in a van or two somewhere outside.

“I know, I know,” Smith says. “You were hoping to come in here, take Miss Sullivan by surprise, and maybe squeeze her until you get your dirt on Matthew Phelps. We’re just here to make you understand that you, Mr. Sokolov, are not ahead of us in any way. If anything, we’re ahead of you.”

“Is that why you haven’t been able to make any charges against us stick?” Max replies. “Because you’re eons ahead of us?”

Smith is getting angry. I firmly grasp Max’s arm and pull him back. “Come on, let’s go.”

“It’s a matter of when, not if,” Smith says.

“Let’s go,” I say to Max again.

“That goes both ways,” he tells Smith, then turns away.

Shelby is wide-eyed and quiet. I think she’s scared, but not necessarily scared of us. She keeps staring at us, hope twinkling and dying slowly in her gaze, while Smith’s lips twist into a sickening smile as he savors this minor victory.

We walk back to the elevator, constantly aware of the number of federal agents just waiting for one of us to make the wrong move, to justify the unholstering of every gun on these premises.

“We’re not giving them that satisfaction,” Max grumbles as we go into the elevator. “This is fucked up.”

“And then some,” Ivan sighs. “They knew we were coming. They were waiting for us.”

Downstairs is no longer empty either. A dozen more agents have entered the building, standing close to the doors and watching us as we leave. The amount of discomfort that I’m experiencing has my senses flaring every which way while I keep my sights ahead and hope to make it back to the car without an altercation.

“Somebody told them,” Max replies.

His steps grow faster and heavier as we get closer to his SUV, parked just across the street. Next to it is a black van, the side door half open, revealing a snippet of a fully-equipped SWAT operative. These bastards were ready to come in, guns blazing, if we got even a single inch out of line.

“Somebody told them,” Max says again when we’re back at our office behind closed doors and with double the security downstairs.

“Heard you the first time,” Ivan replies, pouring himself a drink. “But who?”

“Who knew?” I ask as I sink into one of the guest chairs across from Max’s desk while he gets behind the computer, rubbing his temples. “The three of us knew. And nobody else.”

For the briefest of seconds, Ivan and Max give me a long, curious look. I become heated as I sit up straight and shake my head in dismay.

“You do have a history of oversharing,” Max sighs.

“I told Polina about our moves all those years ago because we were in a relationship with her. I thought we could trust her. You both thought we could trust her too,” I shoot back, anger coursing fiercely hot through my veins. “Dammit, Max, are you ever going to let me live that down?”

Ivan clears his throat. “In Artur’s defense, we were just as stupid at the time, brother. He’s right. We can’t point fingers at one another here. It would mean that Smith has already won.”