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The sound of footsteps echoes on the stairs. I’m at the monitor, my hands shaking. The red light means something’s recording—the screen’s recording, like a video on a phone. It’sstillrecording. With trembling hands, my vision blurred in fury, I hit the stop and rewind buttons until I see movement on the screen.

Five minutes ago.

She was here five minutes ago.

And she’s not alone.

Cillian fucking O’Rourke.

And Anissa… walking beside him. She’s not restrained or drugged. Her expression is unreadable. Too calm.

Like sheplannedthis.

I asked her if they were a fucking couple. Iaskedher. He was too close, too out of place, I didn’t trust the fucking…

Behind me, Yana and Rafail are having a rapid discussion. Yana hands Polina a gun while Rafail calls the lockdown order for the estate. Yana goes to retrieve Zoya. Voices shout, and footsteps run through the house as security snaps into place. Windows and doors are locked. I’m dimly aware of it all happening behind me as I force myself to watch the video.

Don’t react.

Stay calm.

I’ll fucking kill him.

My vision tunnels. He didn’t take her. She went with him.

My hand shakes as I rewind the video, forcing myself to watch every frame. My stomach turns, my heartbeat racing in my ears.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafail snarls.

“She recorded it. She fucking recorded it.” I shake my head. “O’Rourke was here, Rafail. Don’t lock us down. For all you know, you’re locking the goddamn Irish in here with us.”

“We’re in an alliance. A truce,” Rafail grinds out. He’s in denial.

“Not anymore.”

I turn.Vadka.He leans against the doorway, calm as ever, his arms crossed. The room stills.

“You gonna stand there and whine about O’Rourke giving fuck all about our goddamn alliance, or are you gonna do something about it?”

I want to rip his fucking head off.

Anissa is gone.

“What did you just say?” I growl at him.

“You fucking heard me.”

“Hey.” Polina glares.

Vadka ignores her. “You’re watching the fucking video like she left you a love letter. If it were me, I’d be on that fucking road already.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying”—he pushes off the frame—“maybe she was in league with him. Maybe she was a fucking spy. Maybe?—”

I lunge.

Rafail shouts, but I’ve already got Vadka by the collar, slammed up against the door.