Page 26 of Shadow Waltz

Maybe that was enough to start with.

6

GLASS AND BLOOD

LUKA

Dawn light filtered through bulletproof windows, casting long shadows across the marble hallway outside Ash's suite. I stood there studying the security monitors that showed my newest acquisition. Half a million dollars. The number had been circulating through criminal networks since last night, drawing exactly the kind of attention I'd spent years avoiding.

Every move had been strategic, every expense justified by measurable returns. But watching Ash stand under those auction lights, refusing to break even when the world tried to reduce him to merchandise, I'd felt something that defied rational analysis.

Carina approached with the careful gait of someone navigating a minefield.

“The buyers are talking,” she reported without preamble, because sugar-coating bad news had never been her style. “Half a million for a single lot has everyone wondering if you've lost your mind or if you know something they don't.”

“Let them wonder,” I said, though the words carried less conviction than I'd intended. “Speculation keeps them off balance.”

“Luka,” Carina said, her voice carrying the weight of five years of shared violence and mutual trust. “Roman called an hour ago. He wants to know why you outbid him for what he calls 'damaged merchandise.' His exact words were that he's curious about your new investment strategy.”

The Russian's presence at the auction had complicated things beyond my initial calculations. He was the kind of predator who could smell weakness from across an ocean, and my unprecedented bid for Ash had probably set off every alarm in his carefully paranoid mind.

“What did you tell him?” I asked, my voice carrying the kind of calm that came from years of crisis management.

“That your business decisions aren't subject to outside review,” Carina replied. “But he's requesting a face-to-face meeting. Today.”

I considered that for a moment, weighing the political cost of refusing against the danger of giving Sokolov any insight into my current... complications. The Russian was dangerous precisely because he understood that power was psychological as much as physical.

“Schedule it,” I decided. “But make sure he understands it's a courtesy, not a negotiation.”

Carina made a note on her tablet, but I could see the concern in her expression. She knew as well as I did that courtesy meetings with men like Sokolov had a way of turning into bloodbaths when one party felt disrespected.

Mason's voice crackled through my earpiece with the morning's security briefing. “All systems running clean overnight,” they reported. “No unusual network activity, no unauthorized access attempts. The auction drew some increasedsurveillance from law enforcement, but nothing that penetrated our outer defenses.”

That was reassuring. The Shadow Auction's success depended on maintaining invisibility from authorities who would shut us down given the opportunity. Mason's paranoia and technical expertise had kept us operating in the shadows for five years without major incidents.

“Any chatter about last night's bidding?” I asked.

“Significant interest in the half-million purchase,” Mason confirmed, fingers visible on security monitors as they scrolled through intercepted communications. “Multiple organizations trying to identify why you broke your usual patterns. Some speculation about the asset's strategic value, others questioning your judgment.”

The attention was expected but unwelcome. In my business, unusual behavior drew the kind of scrutiny that could lead to federal investigations or territorial challenges from competitors who sensed weakness.

“Monitor all communications related to our recent acquisition,” I instructed. “I want to know who's asking questions and why.”

“Already implemented,” Mason replied. “Also increased digital surveillance on known competitors and their associates. If anyone's planning moves against us, we'll see them coming.”

The precautions were necessary but highlighted the risk I'd taken with last night's unprecedented bid. Half a million dollars for a single lot had shattered five years of carefully maintained patterns, drawing attention from every criminal organization on the East Coast. Competitors would be analyzing the decision for weeks, looking for signs of weakness or opportunity.

More concerning was the message it sent about my priorities. Leaders in our world were expected to be calculating, predictable in their pursuit of profit and power. Personalinterest in merchandise suggested the kind of emotional attachment that enemies could exploit.

“Sir?” Carina said quietly, stepping closer so her words wouldn't carry to the security staff. “Whatever he is to you, don't let him be the reason we all fall.”

The warning echoed in my mind as I placed my hand on the door handle, feeling the weight of the decision that was about to change everything. Carina was right to be concerned—I'd built my empire on the principle that personal involvement led to weakness, that emotional attachment was a luxury I couldn't afford.

But I needed to understand what I'd purchased for half a million dollars. Not just the surface value, but the intelligence behind those ice-blue eyes, the survival skills that had kept him alive through four trips through the system. If Ash was going to be an asset, I needed to know his capabilities. If he was going to be a liability, I needed to know that too.

I opened the door and stepped into Ash's suite, carrying the weight of an empire under siege and questions that demanded answers.

The morning light streaming through reinforced windows revealed details that the auction's harsh spotlights had hidden. Ash stood near the far wall, still wearing the expensive clothes they'd dressed him in but carrying himself like a caged predator ready to strike. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of his face, the lean muscle beneath tailored fabric, the way he positioned himself to have clear views of both the door and the windows.