Page 4 of The Omega Accountant

My father's jaw tightened. "Whatsituation?"

"Financial."Vincenzo'sgaze shifted to me briefly. "Thequarterly review shows... irregularities."

Interest sparked through my irritation. "Whatkind of irregularities?"

"Ten million,"Vincenzoanswered flatly. "Missing."

My father's rage redirected instantly, a predator scenting new prey. "Who?"

"We're investigating, but the accounting department would have noticed.Someonethere may be involved."

The accounting department.Thequiet, methodical team that handled the legitimate face of our operations.Mostlybetas, with a few carefully vetted omegas for their natural attention to detail.Includingone particular omega with wire-rimmed glasses and a scent that had lingered in my memory for weeks.

"I want the entire department questioned," my father declared. "Startingwith that omega—the one with the curls."

"Bianchi,"Isupplied, the name emerging beforeIcould stop it.Myfather's eyebrow raised a fraction, noting my immediate recall.

"Yes,Bianchi," he agreed. "Omegasare easily compromised.Startthere."

Something protective and fierce uncoiled in my chest. "I'llhandle the investigation."

My father's expression shifted to calculating. "Eagerto prove yourself useful somewhere, since you refuse your duty elsewhere?"

I didn't rise to the bait. "Thefinancial operations fall under my purview.I'llfind who's responsible."

"See that you do."Hedismissed me with a wave. "AndMatteo—this doesn't change our discussion.TheSouzaalliance will happen.Oneway or another."

I left without acknowledging the threat,Vincenzofalling into step beside me as we exited the study.

"TheDonis growing impatient with your resistance," he murmured once we were beyond earshot.

"TheDonis growing impatient with everything,"Ireplied. "What'sreally happening with the missing money?"

Vincenzo's expression remained carefully neutral. "ExactlywhatIsaid.Tenmillion, gone.Disguisedas legitimate transfers to shell companies, then vanished."

"AndBianchi?Whyis my father so quick to accuse him?"

"He's an omega in a position usually reserved for betas.TheDonnever trusted the arrangement."

I stopped walking, turning to face my father's most trusted advisor. "Butyou didn't answer my question, old friend.WhyBianchispecifically?"

Vincenzo hesitated, something he rarely did. "Therewere surveillance reports.Hewas seen accessing financial records after hours several times this week.Andtonight, he left with what appeared to be data."

Interesting. "Showme the surveillance."

* * *

The night air carried a metallic edge asIstepped from the car, the familiar weight of myBerettanestled against my ribs.Thestreet outsideLucaBianchi'sapartment building stretched empty and quiet—deceptively so.Mysenses, honed through years of navigating the predatory undercurrents of our world, detected the watchers immediately.

Three men.Onein a black sedan across the street, engine idling.Twomore positioned in the shadows of adjacent buildings, their scents betraying them before their silhouettes became visible.Pineand bergamot—the signature pheromonesSouzaenforcers carried.

Not my father's men.Souza's.

Cold fury ignited beneath my controlled exterior.Theomega accountant who had discovered financial discrepancies was being watched by our rivals, not our family.Theimplications crystallized with disturbing clarity—whateverBianchihad found, whatever he now carried, theSouzafamily wanted it.Wantedhim.

I moved with deliberate purpose, not towardBianchi'sbuilding but toward the closest watcher—a broad-shouldered figure half-concealed in the recessed doorway of an abandoned storefront.Heregistered my approach too late, recognition flashing across his features a moment before my hand closed around his throat, slamming him against the brick wall with enough force to rattle his teeth.

"Corvino," he choked, hands rising instinctively before freezing as he felt the press of my blade against his ribs—not enough to break skin, but a promise of what could follow.

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