Page 68 of The Knight

“Ah, that explains the dicky bow. Well, I have some video footage you need to see.”

The screen switched to Hellisheidi’s workers’ canteen. Freya leaned forward. There she was with her usual lunch setup. A sandwich, coffee, paperback.

“That’s me.” Hairs rose on her bare arms at the date stamp. “Three months ago.” Someone had been watching her.

What was going on?

Investors bustled through the canteen entrance on screen, money almost dripping from their pockets. “Abe, what is this? Where did this come from?” Anxiety rolled through her, the light and excitement of the evening fading into a queasy knot in her stomach.

One man broke away from the crowd and approached her table. Abe’s hand tightened on her knee as the man cleared his throat and introduced himself as Victor Andreas. In the footage, Freya looked up from her book, displeasure etched on her face. She remembered him now—how he had made comments about Jane Austen and then sat down to share his lunch.

The screen shrank to the bottom left corner, and they were once again facing Eli.

Eli cleared his throat. “I’ve triple-checked this, Freya, but the man you’re speaking to in this clip is?—”

“Ivan Nyx,” Abe growled.

“The very one.” Eli agreed.

“Who’s Nyx?”

“Russian mercenary.” In the dim car light, Abe’s eyes were almost black.

Her stomach twisted. The man had been charming, complimentary even. Had he been reeling her in, manipulating her for information regarding her archive project? “My work is classified. I wouldn’t have discussed anything important.”

“He was getting the lay of the land.” Abe splayed fingers across his mouth. “Likely working for Korolov. Nyx has no allegiances other than money.”

Korolov had been assessing her for months before he made his move. And she had been oblivious. Heat flushed through her, dampening her skin. She’d been used and manipulated.

But anger wouldn’t solve anything.

The footage came from across the room, not from security cameras.Someone in the canteen had filmed her conversation.

“Where did you get this? Who sent it?” She allowed her anger to bleed into her voice.

“An untraceable file. For now. We’ll find out who, but it will take some time.”

Convenient.She clutched the purse. Even Einar couldn’t help—dozens of investors had visited the plant during those months. She’d been a target all along and never known.

Abe huffed a soft breath. “Do you remember what he spoke to you about?”

“A little. Books. The weather.” Her voice grew smaller with each word, her fingers twisting together in her lap.A Russian mercenary.

“Abe, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.” Eli’s voice was calm, but the undercurrent of concern made her stomach sink.

“Agreed.” But when Abe looked at her, his expression was blank and that scared her more than anger.

“That was the only time I ever saw him.” She searched his gaze. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, Duchess.” His fingers locked around hers, but doubt threaded through his voice.

“This is proof someone inside was leaking information, then and now. Whoever took this footage is the person we should look for.” Her voice remained level despite the turmoil ripping through her. Don’t break.Not now.

Abe nodded, jaw tight. “Agreed. Our priority is tracking down the individual who sent this.” He said goodbye to Eli and killed the connection.

The screen went dark, reflecting her face in the black glass. Silence stretched between them like a living thing.

He doesn’t believe me.

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