Page 31 of Unspoken

Vlad is focused on what’s in front of him and says something in Russian.

I clear my throat. "Vlad," I start, my voice betraying none of the adrenaline coursing through me. "Do you have a minute?"

He doesn't look up, just a slight tilt of his head to acknowledge that he knows I’m here. "Where is Ivan?"

"Outside."

On that grand desk papers are spread before the man like fallen soldiers. And even now, he exudes power and control. He’s someone who moves pieces on a chessboard I can barely comprehend.

"You have two minutes, Mr. McKenna."

My boots sink into the thick carpet with each step as I near the desk, and I can’t help but wonder what it is with all the carpets, even the ones on the walls of this house. Must be the Russian thing.

"I’m listening." Vlad finally lifts his gaze. Those eyes, stormy just like Sasha's but devoid of any warmth, lock onto mine. There's nothing but the sound of my own breath, loud in the silence between me and my employer.

I square my shoulders. "We need to talk."

"About what?" He leans back, the leather chair protesting under the shift of his weight.

"About the bomb," I press on, ignoring the way my mouth feels dry, the way his stare seems to dissect my every intention.

Vlad's lack of reaction drapes over us like a thick poisonous fog, but I push through it. "Back in London," I add the words like a gambit, laying my cards on the table, waiting for his play.

His gaze doesn't waver. Those eyes of his are cold, calculating. The air between us crackles with tension. He sits there, an immovable monument of power and secrecy.

"Your concern is noted, Logan," Vlad's voice finally slices through the stillness, "but your job is to protect my brother. My affairs are not your domain."

"Look, I'm not here to step on your toes," I reply quickly. "But I've been in the trenches of organized crime, you know that. You know I was a cop. I need intel if I'm going to keep him safe."

"Your background as a cop does not grant you clearance into my operations," Vlad retorts, each syllable clipped and precise.

"Clearance?" I scoff, anger flaring. "This isn't about red tape. It's about being prepared. If something happens to Sasha because I'm in the dark..."

"Then you will have failed at the one task you were given," he interjects, his tone frosty.

"You need to give me something to work with," I insist, my resolve turning to desperation.

"I do not need to give you anything, Mr. McKenna. I hired you to make sure my little brother isn’t harmed. And you seem not to understand the job. You are not a cop anymore."

Vlad’s words hit me like a sucker punch. He’s right. I’m not a cop. I’m not getting paid to dig. I’m getting paid to babysit a moody man-child. "Correct," I choke out.

"Information is currency," Vlad counters. "What do you have to offer if I give you this information?"

"Preparation," I shoot back. "Knowledge is power, remember? And right now, I'm unarmed."

"An interesting metaphor," he muses, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "But power is also about knowing when to reveal your hand."

"Then consider this me calling your bluff," I challenge, meeting his stare head-on, neither of us willing to look away first.

"Bold, Mr. McKenna," Vlad acknowledges with a nod. "But boldness alone does not keep you alive in this business."

"Neither does ignorance," I retort.

"Point taken." Vlad sighs, a sound like the rustling of dead leaves. "But you still have not told me how this information you so desire can help you prepare?"

Vlad rises like a shadow stretching at dusk and walks around the table. The room feels colder, heavier, even as we stand mere feet apart. He holds my gaze in a silent challenge, and I can see it—the same darkness that haunts Sasha's eyes. It’s strange that someone else has that same look. Strange to know there are two men who are so alike and yet so different. And I only like one. I do have respect for the second man, but I don’t feel what I feel when I’m around his little brother these days.

"So what exactly will you do with the knowledge I might offer?" Vlad asks, his voice low, a dangerous undercurrent beneath a calm surface.

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