Page 41 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

T he bar is dimly lit, the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses filling the silence between the three of us. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light as we wait. Lev is late for our meeting.

Lucky leans back against the booth, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they flick between me and Liam. “Alright, enough of this brooding bullshit,” he says, breaking the silence. “What’s with you lately?”

Liam exhales sharply, tipping his drink back before answering. “What are you talking about?”

Lucky rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been off for weeks. Moody as hell. Snapping at people. Disappearing whenever you get the chance. And don’t give me some bullshit about work stress.”

Liam huffs, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I’ve got a lot on my plate? That I’ve been handling shit none of you even notice?”

I arch a brow. “You think we don’t notice?”

Liam meets my gaze, his jaw tightening. “I think you’re too busy to care.”

My fingers tighten around my glass, but I keep my voice even. “That so?”

“Forget it,” he mutters, looking away.

Lucky scoffs. “Real convincing, Liam. If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”

Liam doesn’t answer, just downs the rest of his drink, eyes fixed on the bottle in front of him like it holds all the answers he refuses to give.

I glance at my watch, my patience thinning. Lev had better show up soon. I don’t have time for whatever the hell is going on with Liam right now.

Before Lucky can press Liam any further, the door to the bar swings open and a man steps inside, hood pulled low, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear into the dim lighting.

Lev.

Even in disguise, I’d recognize that rat bastard anywhere.

His movements are stiff, as though he's trying to act casual, but every inch of him betrays the tension running through his veins. He walks toward our booth like he knows exactly where he's headed, but there’s a slight unease in his pace. When he reaches us, he places a plain cardboard box on the table, his hands quick to pull away as if he’s afraid we might notice the shaking.

“You’re late,” I say, keeping my voice low.

Lev glances at me, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I was careful," he mutters, then nods at the box. “I grabbed as much as I could.”

I glance at it but don't reach for it yet. “Did anyone follow you?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, but I don’t feel good about it. I used someone else’s keycard. Someone Anatoly wouldn’t think twice about seeing on the entry logs. Don’t feel good for putting someone else’s life on the line for this.”

I study Lev, noticing the way his jaw clenches. His gaze flicks around the room, eyes darting like he’s expecting someone to step out from the shadows. He’s nervous.

“What are you worried about?” I ask, not bothering to hide the suspicion in my voice. “You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. I’m sure that person will be fine, you’ll be fine. Anatoly will be locked away in an upstate facility.”

Lev looks between the three of us, his face tight with panic. “I did my part. I’ve done everything you asked. Please, don’t hurt my family. Just… leave them out of this.”

I feel a flicker of satisfaction, watching the desperation in his eyes. He knows he’s on borrowed time.

“We’ve got what we need,” I say, my voice low and cold. “But don’t ever show your face on our turf again, Lev. If we see you anywhere near us, you’re a dead man.”

Lev swallows hard, nodding rapidly. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without another word, he bolts out the door, practically tripping over himself in his haste to escape.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, the three of us turn our attention to the box. I slide the lid open and pull out a stack of documents, my pulse quickening as I flip through them.

“Tax fraud,” Liam mutters, scanning the first page, his brows knitting together. “This is solid. We’ve got multiple years of discrepancies here, underreported income, falsified reports…” He looks up at Lucky and me, a grin spreading across his face. “If we turn this over, Anatoly’s in deep shit.”

Lucky leans forward, rifling through the rest of the stack.

“This isn’t just a few missed numbers. These are serious violations, boys.

” He pulls out a separate folder, his voice low as he looks through it.

“Look at this—illegal wire transfers, shell companies for money laundering. RICO violations all over the place.”

“Fucking jackpot,” I mutter, flipping through more of the files. “Racketeering, bribery, labor violations… This is the kind of evidence that’ll have the Feds tearing down his whole operation.”

Liam picks up a paper, his expression darkening as he reads. “He’s been cooking the books with the Russians for years, hiding millions in offshore accounts. We could bury him with this.”

“Not to mention the shipping fraud,” Lucky adds, glancing up from the pages. “They’ve been skimming from the transport side of things for months, if not years.” He grins wickedly. “You know how much leverage this gives us?”

I don’t smile, but I feel a small surge of satisfaction. “This is just the beginning. Anatoly’s empire is built on shit like this. If we can get this to the right people, we’ll make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

Liam shifts the papers around. “We’re talking years of prison time for him. All of this…” He shakes his head. “It’s enough to take down the entire organization.”

Lucky snorts. “And it’s gonna be fuckin’ beautiful watching him burn.”

After sifting through the box and realizing just how much dirt we’ve got on Anatoly, I feel that familiar sense of satisfaction—like the pieces are finally falling into place. This is it, the evidence to send him to prison for the rest of his miserable life.

I stuff the files back into the box and slam the lid shut. “This is more than enough to put him away for a long, long time,” I say, my voice steady but with an edge of satisfaction I can’t quite hide. “We’ve got him now.”

Liam nods, his eyes gleaming. “Time to deliver the knockout blow.”

Lucky claps me on the back. “Good work, Brother. We’ve been wanting to bring Anatoly down for years. This is it.”

I nod once and turn to head out the door. “I’m taking it to Burns now. Let’s see how much he can work with this.”

It’s a short drive to Senator Burns' office, but with every mile, the anticipation builds in my chest. Burns has been on our side for a while, but with evidence like this, we’re finally about to see some real action.

I drop the box onto his desk, and he looks up at me, that smug, self-satisfied grin stretching across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he says, leaning back in his chair, eyeing the box. “This is exactly what we needed, Rory. I knew you’d come through.”

I don’t let myself smile—not yet. “We’re just getting started. If you can push this to the Feds, Anatoly’s done for.”

Burns chuckles, flipping open the box and glancing at the documents.

“I’m already one step ahead of you,” he says, his voice low but eager.

“I’ve already got a team of agents who’ve been waiting for something like this.

With these, Anatoly won’t know what hit him.

” He straightens up and locks eyes with me.

“You’re about to see something big happen, Rory. Watch the news tonight.”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say, the good senator knows how to work the system. Keep your eyes peeled. By tonight, Anatoly’s world will start falling apart.”

A sense of excitement wells up inside me. “So, you’re telling me this is already in motion?”

Burns leans forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the box. “The pieces are already moving. By the time you see the evening broadcast, Anatoly won’t have a leg to stand on.”

I nod, a mixture of pride and anticipation coursing through me. “I’ll be watching.”

As I leave Burns’ office, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to shift. Anatoly won’t know what hit him, and by the time the dust settles, this will be the kind of victory that makes history.

I get home, my mind still racing with everything that’s happened. The victory feels sweet, but there’s a weight in my chest that I can’t shake. It’s like I’ve crossed the finish line, but there’s a part of me that’s looking around, expecting someone to share the moment with.

I kick off my boots and toss my jacket on the couch, heading straight for the TV. My hands are a little shaky as I click through the channels. The first station hits me with it.

“ Breaking news—The long-overdue arrest of Anatoly Volkov, the notorious Russian gangster, has finally come to pass. The charges include tax fraud, racketeering, and numerous violations of the RICO Act. Volkov is now in federal custody, facing a long list of federal charges that could put him away for the rest of his life .”

I grin, leaning back into the couch.

They flash a photo of Anatoly’s sneering face on the screen, and for a moment, all I can feel is the satisfaction of seeing that piece of shit finally getting what’s coming to him.

I switch over to another station, this one showing the police escorting Volkov away in handcuffs, and I grin, sitting up straighter.

Flipping through the channels, I realize they’re all playing the same thing, over and over. It’s a victory for the books, but the celebratory buzz feels… off. It’s not the same without someone to share it with.

I glance over at the empty space beside me on the couch.

Clary’s been in my thoughts all day—too many things unsaid, too many questions unanswered. I thought it was enough, this win, but now, it feels a little hollow without her here to celebrate with me.

I rub a hand over my face and sigh, switching off the TV.

For all the progress, all the strides I’ve made, I can’t ignore the one thing that’s missing, the one thing I want more than anything. Her.

I’m still sitting there, staring at the blank screen of the TV, when the door swings open with a thud. Lucky steps in, his face a storm cloud, jaw tight, eyes dark.

For a second, I think maybe he’s here to celebrate. I mean, we just took down one of the biggest threats to our family, to our whole operation. But the second I see him, I know something’s off.

His steps are heavy as he crosses the room, and I can practically feel the tension rolling off him.

“Lucky?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter. “What’s up? We did it, man. Anatoly’s locked away for good.”

But Lucky doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me, his eyes unreadable.

My stomach twists. “What’s going on? Why the long face?”

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and grave.

“I have to talk to you about Clary.”