Page 95 of Royal Deception

Lev’s eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath the cold stare—fear, or maybe resignation. He knows, just as well as I do, that this operation could be a death sentence for him. His voice shakes, just barely, but he’s trying to hold it together. “You understand what you’re asking me to do, right? If this goes wrong, it’s not just me on the line. You think Anatoly won’t burn me alive for this?”

I lean forward, my jaw tight. “We don’t care about you, Lev. You’re expendable.” The words are harsh, but they’re the truth, and I don’t waste time with sugarcoating. “But your family… your brother and niece? We’ve got eyes on them. Every move they make, every breath they take.” I let that sink in before I add the final sting. “You screw this up, and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger on them.”

He sucks in a breath, his face paling slightly. For a second, I almost think he’s going to argue, or worse, run. But the defeat settles in and he looks at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. There’s no more fire in his eyes, just grim acceptance.

“I’ll get you what you need,” he says quietly, the weight of his words heavier than anything I’ve ever heard from him. “But when this is over… you'd better make sure my family’s safe. You have to guarantee it.”

I give him a small nod. “You’ll get your protection when the job’s done. No one crosses me and lives to tell about it. Anatoly won’t be the last man you’ll fear once we’re done with this.”

Lev doesn’t say anything else, but the way he clenches his fists shows that he’s both pissed and terrified. I don’t blame him. He’s got nothing left but this job now.

We all stare at him for a long moment, each of us feeling the weight of the deal we’ve struck. There’s no turning back now.

40

CLARY

My phone buzzes just as I settle onto the couch, my heart sinking when I see Callie’s name flash across the screen. I hesitate for a second before answering, forcing a lightness into my voice that I don’t quite feel.

“Hey, Callie. What’s up?”

“Hey, Clary,” she says, her tone careful. “Sorry to bother you, but is Rory available for a meeting?”

I blink. “I, uh… I don’t work for him anymore.”

“Oh.” There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet sigh. “Shit. I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

That catches me off guard. I shift on the couch, gripping my phone a little tighter. “Why would it be your fault?”

She hesitates. “After the gala, I…” She exhales sharply, like she’s bracing herself. “I tried to kiss him.”

A dull ache spreads through my chest. I don’t know why it still hurts. Rory is free to do whatever he wants, like he always does. But hearing it from her now, so plainly, still stings.

“He turned me down,” Callie rushes to say, like she can sense the storm of emotions unraveling inside me. “I just… I thought maybe that was why things changed between you two.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “It’s not that,” I say, my voice softer than I expect. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Callie hums in understanding. “Yeah. I get it.” A pause, then a wry laugh. “I guess I’m just used to scaring men away lately. My stalker’s been doing a great job of ruining my love life.”

I press my lips together, my mind spinning. Rory has his hands full with the Russians. Whatever Callie wants from him, he won’t have the time to deal with it properly.

And maybe—just maybe—this is my chance to prove something. Not to him, not really. To myself.

I sit up a little straighter. “Callie… what if I help you instead?”

Silence stretches between us. “You?” she asks, cautious but intrigued.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. You want to put this stalker situation behind you, right? Find out who’s behind it and make sure they can’t come after you again?”

“Obviously,” she says, a little wary. “But I figured Rory would?—”

“Rory’s busy,” I cut in. “He’s dealing with things that don’t involve us. And I don’t need him to hold my hand through every little thing. I can handle this.”

Callie is quiet for a second, then lets out a slow, thoughtful hum. “Okay,” she says at last, her voice brightening with interest. “Let’s do it.”

I sit cross-leggedon my couch, Callie’s phone in one hand and my laptop balanced on my thighs. She’s given me full access to her accounts—Twitter, Instagram, even her LinkedIn, though I doubt her stalker is networking for business opportunities.

“Tell me more about the stalker,” I ask as I search.