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Giselle looked just like her father. They had the same eyes, the same raven-black hair, and, most of all, she’d inherited his defiance—all that stubbornness that made him loyal to a fault.

But she was also different in every other way.

I could tell how innocent she was just by looking into her eyes. She was pure and soft, a quality that would get her killed in a world like ours.

She was everything I hated, but when she stood her ground in front of me today, knowing I could kill her if I wanted and fighting to hide her fear, something in me had shifted in a way I didn’t understand yet. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since I got back from the funeral that evening.

There was something about Giselle that I found hard to ignore, and whatever it was, I wasn’t quite sure I liked it. My job was to gather information about the whereabouts of the Tyfun-1 from her, nothing more.

I leaned back in my chair, the dim light from my desk lamp casting sharp shadows across the room. My fingers drummed against the polished wood as I replayed our conversation—if I could call it that—at the cemetery.

Despite her attempts to seem composed in front of others, I could see the sadness in her eyes that indicated she was on the verge of breaking down. She gripped the piece of paper for her speech tightly, seeking comfort from it.

When our eyes met, I could see the intense hatred she held for me and for the mafia. I knew she blamed us for her father’s death even before she uttered a word. She loathed us, despised everything we represented.

But it was different for me because although I’d seen her in that goofy picture Peter used as his wallpaper, she was way prettier in person.

Her piercing emerald eyes were the first thing to catch my attention. They were brighter than shattered glass catching the light. And then there was her thick, dark lashes and her raven-black hair that framed the curve of her shoulders.

She was petite and looked almost too delicate to touch, but there was an intricate tattoo right there on her wrist where I’d held her.

Damn it, I hadn’t even realized I was holding her then or how tight my grip was.

I refused to allow any other thoughts of her or her beauty in my mind. I needed to concentrate on one thing, and that was what she knew about the Tyfun-1.

She knew something. I could tell from the way her pulse jumped when I mentioned her father’s last call—the way she tried too hard to act indifferent. She was hiding something, and I was going to find out what it was. If the secret didn’t lie in that text or the last call he made, then it was in their meeting the night before he was murdered.

A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Dobryn stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. Dobryn had worked for me for years, and he was one of the men I trusted the most.

I studied the dark expression on his face. “What is it?”

“The police found out about the Tyfun-1.”

I sat up, jaw clenching. “How?”

He shrugged. “I have no freaking idea how they found out. It’s all over the news. “They’re calling it Typhoon-1, and just like us, they’re working hard to get their hands on it. Apparently, they see it as a major threat—something about how dangerous the synthetic formula is.”

“The cops aren’t that smart; I’m certain we’ll get our hands on it before they do. We have Peter’s last message and his daughter.”

He didn’t agree, which meant he had something else to say. The suspense was killing me, and I could feel my frustration start to bubble.

“What else?”

He cleared his throat. “The police aren’t the only ones looking for it.”

“Fuck.” I fought back the rage flaring inside me. “Who else?”

“The Irish, maybe the Americans, too. Somehow, word got out that no one has any idea where Peter stashed the drugs before he died. Now everyone’s trying to find it.”

I grabbed onto my tie, loosening the knot that now felt like a noose around my throat. Perfect, just what I needed.

Dobryn scrutinized my expression cautiously. “You look grim yourself,” he noted as he sat on the chair across from my table. “Let me guess, the meeting didn’t go as planned, did it?”

I leaned back in my chair, swiveling from side to side. “The girl is harder to get through than I thought.”

She might not have known exactly who I was, but she recognized that I was from the mafia and understood how cruel I could be; yet, she stood her ground. I didn’t know whether to praise her for her boldness or consider it plain stupidity on her part. Either way, I was impressed. No one outside the mafia had ever stood up to me like that.

“Is there a chance she really doesn’t know about the Tyfun-1?” Dobryn asked, giving me the same doubtful look Rafayel had days ago. “She might’ve heard without knowing what it was.”

I shook my head. “She knows.”

“How can you tell?”

“Her reaction.” I steepled my fingers in front of me, thinking back to my conversation with Giselle. “She didn’t ask what the Tyfun-1 was or what the text meant. To a normal person, that text would’ve been nothing more than gibberish, but she wasn’t curious.”

Dobryn nodded in agreement. “What’s your plan now?”

I shrugged. “I’m still thinking the best way to go about the girl, but after meeting her today, I know it won’t be easy to get anything out of her. It’ll take time, and I’ll have to get her to trust that she won’t be in danger somehow.”

“We don’t have time, sir. The cops are on our tail. They already know Peter worked for us. It’ll be a matter of time before they figure everything out and raid our businesses.”

“That won’t happen.” I pulled out my drawer and, grabbing Peter’s phone, I tossed it to Dobryn. “We have to keep them busy for now.”

He caught the phone mid-air. “How do we do that, sir?”

I thought for a moment. “First, we’ll have to release the phone to the cops ourselves so it doesn’t become a problem later. We already have the information we need from it; they can have it.”

He narrowed his eyes on me. “You always have a plan, Boss. I’m sure this isn’t just you trying to keep the cops busy.”

He was right. It wasn’t just me trying to keep the cops busy; it was me luring in my prey without having to do too much.

The evidence in that phone would lead to only one person—Giselle. If things worked out the way I planned, she’d make a very good damsel in distress, and I would play my part as her prince charming who’d come to her rescue.

“What if they see that she’s innocent, and they let her go?” Dobryn asked, his brows drawn with worry. He glanced at the phone that still had dried patches of Peter’s blood, at the cracked screen, and I wondered if a part of him was afraid.

From what I heard, he was the one who found Peter the morning he was killed, right in his apartment. I still remembered the way his hands had been shaking when he handed the phone to Egor, the rage in his eyes. He could’ve murdered a person in that moment and not felt anything.

But I thought he also understood that was the reality of our world. On most days, we would be the killers, ripping hardened men from their families. But one day, our luck may run out, and we’d be the ones lying in a casket.

“If she’s innocent, then we can benefit from the investigation somehow. The police won’t stop until they tear the case apart and track every message, every call. If Peter left any clue about the location of Tyfun-1, they’ll find it for us. And in the process, they’ll put more heat on anyone who tries to claim it.”

“So, we’re using a cat to keep the rats away?” Dobryn smirked. “Smart.”

“That, and we’ll use the cats to lure the rats into a trap.” A sly smile curled on my lips. “Who knows, it might even lead us to who killed Peter and how they found out about the drugs.”

Dobryn rose to his feet and clenched his fingers around the phone. “I’ll hand this over to the police like you instructed and keep you updated on their investigation. One more thing, sir. What do I tell the Pakhan when he asks about Peter’s daughter?”

“Leave the Pakhan to me.”

He nodded and left the office.

Alone, my thoughts drifted to Giselle once more. If things went as planned, then I would be seeing her again soon. A twisted wave of amusement rushed through me as I imagined her scowling and seething at the idea of me being her savior.

She was going to hate it, but she would have no other choice but to play along with me; either that or she would possibly lose her freedom. I hoped she would make the right decision when the time came. She was too smart not to.

There was the fact that this would benefit her, too. I bet she was curious about who murdered her father, if not why. Most people are driven by their need for vengeance and justice, I doubted she was much different.

One thing I knew for sure, though, was that she would need me one way or another when the time came.