Page 3 of Veil of Shadows

The man raises an eyebrow, obviously questioning what I had just said. Lev’s eyes are sharp, cold blue, always calculating, and his jawline is squared like it’s been carved from stone. His black hair is cut short, neat, and he moves with the quiet confidence of someone who’s long since learned how to take control without saying a word.

He’s been by my side for years, my right hand, and now, with how far he’s climbed in our world, it’s like we’re standing on the same level, though I’ll never admit it out loud.

“If she’s a problem, we know how to fix problems.” His tone is light, almost bored, but his meaning is clear.

I finally turn to face him. “This one’s different,” I say, more to myself than to him. “She’s not going to scare off with a few threats.”

“Then make it final.” Lev’s eyes flicker with amusement. “You know what has to be done.”

A part of me knows he’s right. But as I watch her scribble something furiously in her notebook, the glow of the lamp turning her hair into a halo of gold, I feel a tug of something unexpected. I’ve seen plenty of people break under pressure, watched the light go out in their eyes when they realize they’ve crossed the wrong line. But her? She’s got that look—like she’d rather burn everything down than give up.

I push past Lev, my decision made. If I’m going to stop her, it needs to be tonight. There’s no room for hesitation in this world. You hesitate, you die.

As I make my way through the crowd, bodies pressing in on all sides, my mind races. She’s not leaving here without a warning, one she’ll never forget.

The closer I get, the clearer her features become—those determined eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw. She doesn’t even look up as I approach, too engrossed in whatever she’s uncovered.

Good. Let her be surprised. Let her feel the cold reality of what she’s stepped into.

The moment I lower myself into the chair across from her, Alyssa looks up. She freezes, pen still in hand, eyes widening as she finally looks up to meet mine.

“Mr. Volkov,” she says, her voice smooth, like she’s welcoming an old friend. “I didn’t expect to see the Head of Bratva Organization in here.”

A lie. She knew exactly who would come knocking when she started digging. But I don’t call her out on it. Instead, I lean back, letting the silence stretch, letting her sweat. Only, she doesn’t. She’s too busy watching me, her eyes searching for something, anything, that might give her an edge.

“Didn’t you?” I say finally, keeping my tone casual, almost bored. “I would have thought my presence was... inevitable, considering your interest in certain cases.”

Alyssa doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m just doing my job,” she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Suspicious deaths fall under my jurisdiction.”

She’s playing it cool, but I can see the fire in her eyes, that stubborn glint that refuses to back down. For a moment, I almost admire it. Almost. But admiration doesn’t change the fact that she’s poking around in places that could get her killed.

“Suspicious deaths are one thing,” I say, leaning forward just enough for her to catch the edge in my voice. “But sniffing around where the Bratva operates? That’s suicide.”

Alyssa’s eyes narrow, her expression barely shifting, but I see her fingers tighten around that damn notebook. “I didn’t realize your organization was so interested in lab reports,” she replies, her voice calm, controlled. “Unless there’s something you don’t want me to find.”

There it is. That bite, that brazen defiance that makes my blood run hot. She’s not just unafraid—she’s daring me to make a move. A part of me wants to reach across the table, grab her bythe collar, and drag her out of here before she does something stupid. But I don’t.

I force a cold smile instead. “I’m here to save you from yourself,” I say, my voice dropping to a near whisper, meant only for her. “You’ve stepped into a game where there are no second chances. Turn back now, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll walk away with your life.”

Alyssa leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. There’s a slight tilt to her head, like she’s studying a puzzle she’s determined to solve. “And if I don’t?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “What happens then, Mr. Volkov? Do you plan on silencing me yourself?”

Her words are calm, almost playful, but there’s no mistaking the steel behind them. I’ve stared down men who’ve slaughtered families, men who wouldn’t blink before cutting a throat. But none of them looked at me like she does now—like they’re the ones holding the cards.

My jaw tightens. “It’s a warning, Alyssa,” I say, my voice like ice. “Not a threat. Walk away before you find something you can’t unsee.”

She doesn’t flinch. If anything, her gaze sharpens, like she’s just found the missing piece to whatever she’s piecing together. “I appreciate your concern,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “but I’m not easily scared off. If you’re here to intimidate me, I suggest you save your breath.”

I stare at her, and for a moment, the club, the smoke, the pounding bass—all of it fades into a dull hum. It’s just the two of us, locked in a silent battle. The longer I look at her, the more I see it—the fire, the unrelenting drive. The same madness that’sdriven me all these years. And God help me, I almost admire her for it.

But I can’t afford to. Not now.

I push back my chair, the screech of metal against tile cutting through the noise of the club. “This is your last warning,” I say, my voice barely above a growl. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

But she doesn’t respond. She just watches me, her eyes like daggers, her silence a challenge. I want to grab her by the shoulders, shake her until she understands the danger she’s in. But I don’t.

Instead, I turn and walk away, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other, to leave her behind. The crowd swallows me up, but I can still feel her eyes burning into my back, daring me to stop her.

And deep down, I know this isn’t over.

---