Page 52 of Claiming Veronica

“I’ll handle it,” I said evenly. “I’m having Veronica pull the information for me. Once I know where he is. I’ll get rid of him.”

Maxim studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Good. And what about Reed?”

I paused, watching him, trying to figure out the meaning behind the words. Surely he wasn’t suggesting I knock off one of Veronica’s best friends? “What do you mean? What about her?” I replied. “Veronica’s keeping her in the loop.”

“Take it easy. That wasn’t what I meant. I was just wondering how Reed was handling it. I don’t typically run around and kill innocent women like some dick.”

I shrugged noncommittally. The guy was in the Bratva, and I knew fuck all about how that operated, but I knew that was like the mafia or some shit. I had an idea that it meant people died. No balloons were being burst, and Christmas wasn’t being ruined. The curtains had been pulled from my eyes long ago. People died, people werebetrayed, and everyone had some bad in them. That was the world. Maxim couldn’t tell me that he wouldn’t kill an innocent if it kept Veronica from being harmed. I knew that would be a flat-out lie.

“I don’t. It’s one of my rules.” His jaw clenched.

I held up my hands. “Okay. I believe you.” I wondered if I should ask him where the bone marrow match came from because I knew where itdidn’tcome from. Her sister hadn’t been a match. It had been in her medical file. I kept my mouth shut because I would have done the same thing. Everyone else could go hang when it came to Veronica. My moral compass was fucked when it came to her.

Maxim didn’t respond immediately, just giving me a slight nod before pushing off the wall. “Good. Keep me updated.”

With that, he turned and headed back toward the kitchen, leaving me standing there for a moment. I let out a slow breath, the tension easing from my shoulders. I could handle Doug. I’d handled worse.

Chapter 26

Eli

The warehouse had utterly transformed since the last time I’d been here. What used to be a grim, rusted shell of concrete and steel had morphed into something out of a high-end casino’s underbelly. Thick, plush carpets in deep reds and gold covered the floor, muffling the sound of footsteps. Black leather couches and velvet chairs were scattered strategically, designed for the comfort of high rollers—big spenders who didn’t just want action — they wanted luxury. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their lights casting a soft, almost seductive glow over the space. It was sleek, it was upscale, and it reeked of money.

Maxim stood beside me, his sharp gaze taking in every detail. I’d been able to get rid of the fuckerfor days now, and he’d been yammering on about getting a tour. Finally, I’d had to cave. Veronica owed me big time for the car ride I’d had to endure. Although, who the fuck was I kidding. I’d do anything for her.

Walk across coals if I had to, kill for her, die for her — anything.

I guess this was what love was — your heart feeling like it was beating somewhere else.

“Impressive,” Maxim said under his breath, but his eyes told the real story. He wasn’t just impressed—he was calculating. This kind of setup meant serious business.

Luther, dressed in a dark suit that looked like it had cost more than most people’s rent, was already inside, leaning against one of the marble-topped bars installed along the far wall. He was sipping a whiskey, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he caught sight of us. His usual air of annoyance was there, but it was toned down, smothered beneath the weight of Maxim’s presence.

“This is slick,” Maxim said, his tone a mix of approval and curiosity as he walked farther in, his boots soundless on the thick carpet.

Luther grunted, setting his glass down. “Needed to attract the right crowd. The kind that likes tothrow serious cash on the table. The fights are still raw, still brutal, but this?” He gestured around the room with a sweep of his hand. “This keeps the big money flowing.”

Maxim nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to the far side of the warehouse where the cage was set up for the upcoming fight. The cage itself hadn’t changed—sturdy steel bars welded into a circle designed for bloodshed. But now, there was a viewing area with private tables for the wealthiest clients. We had plush seating and even high-end bottle service.

“And security?” Maxim asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge.

Luther straightened. “Tighter than ever. The place is wired from top to bottom. No one gets in without clearance.”

Maxim’s gaze flicked to me, and I knew what he wanted without him saying a word. “You can go check it out if you want to.” He nodded at me curtly and sauntered off with his hands stuffed into his slacks.

Luther shook his head at me. “What the fuck, man?” he ground out. “Word gets out about this, and we’re done. We can’t be murdering business partners at matches.”

“Relax.” He wasn’t wrong, though. If Maxim couldn’t carry out his part of the bargain, it could spell another Francisco incident. I was banking on Spato not being well-known and Maxim being stealthy. If anything went haywire, then we were fucked. “It’s under control. It’s not like the pakhan doesn’t know how to kill people without being seen. His brother will have men here to dispose of the body lickety-split, no problemo.”

‘We better hope so,” he ground out.

Luther was quietly seething, the tips of his ears giving off that tell-tale red vibe that told me he was mad, but I turned my back on him and went to slouch onto one of the sofas.

“Yep,” I muttered, half to myself, while taking a second to check on the cameras at home. Veronica was still there, curled up on the couch with Reed watching a movie. I shot her a quick text.

Me: You should be sleeping.

Veronica: You should be... not texting me while doing whatever dangerous thing you’re doing. This just makes me think you’re watching me. Stalker.

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