Sergei scoffs. “That’s not gonna be enough.”
Boris shifts his weight, clearly uneasy. “You can’t tell us anything now?”
I shake my head. “No, I swear I’ll tell him everything when he gets back.”
The three of them stare at me, uncertain. I stand my ground. I just hope I have the strength to follow through with my words when the time comes.
Chapter Twenty-Three - Mikhail
The moment I step out of the car, I know something is wrong. The estate looms in front of me, dark and still, but there’s an energy in the air—thick, charged, waiting to snap.
She came back. That’s what I’m told. Julie is back.
I don’t know what I expect when I push through the front doors, but I don’t expect to see her standing there, perfectly still, like she’s been waiting for me.
She doesn’t run. She doesn’t look away. She simply raises her hand, and in it, a phone glints under the dim light.
My stomach tightens.
“I’ve had this for a while,” she says, voice even.
I step closer, my boots heavy against the marble floor. I don’t take the phone from her just yet. Instead, I study her—the way her fingers tighten around the device, the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she breathes just a little too fast.
Guilt.
“Go on,” I murmur, my voice dangerously low.
Julie licks her lips, and my eyes flick to the movement before she speaks. “I used it to contact Sophia,” she says.
The anger inside me sharpens into something more lethal. Of course.
I exhale slowly, deliberately, keeping my expression unreadable. “And?”
Julie’s throat bobs. “I was supposed to steal information from you,” she continues, her fingers twitching. “That’s why she sent Arlo. He’s been leaking everything back to the Spades.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. Arlo. That fucking bastard.
I should’ve known. I should’ve caught it earlier. I think back to every moment he was near, every interaction that seemed unassuming at the time. Now, it all fits.
Julie watches me carefully, like she’s waiting for me to snap. “He’s probably gone by now,” she adds.
Probably. Or maybe he’s still lurking like the rat he is. Either way, it doesn’t matter—he’ll be dealt with.
I take another step forward, and this time, I take the phone from her. It feels cold in my palm.
“You’re still here,” I say, my voice quieter now, but no less dangerous.
Julie blinks. “Yes.”
“You could’ve run.”
“I could have.”
I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you?”
She hesitates, and for a moment, I think she won’t answer. But then she squares her shoulders, meeting my gaze without flinching.
“Because I didn’t want to.”