Page 58 of The Russian's Revenge Bride

“Maxim, what the fuck are you getting at?”

I stood up, pacing to the window that overlooked the city. Chicago sprawled below us, millions of lights beginning to twinkle as evening settled over the metropolis. Somewhere out there, enemies were planning their next move, calculating how to exploit the weakness they’d discovered today.

“Think about it,” I said, not turning around. “Dmitry knew Eleanor’s location. He knew her route, her timing, her security detail. He was in the perfect position to coordinate an ambush.”

“You’re suggesting one of our most trusted associates tried to have your wife killed?” Rafael’s voice carried a note of warning that I ignored. “Why would he alert me, then?”

That was an unanswered question—one I didn’t want to focus on at the moment. “I’m suggesting that someone with intimate knowledge of our operations fed information to those shooters. Someone who knew exactly when and where Eleanor would be vulnerable.”

Cassandra was typing rapidly on her tablet, her expression focused. “I can pull communication logs, cross-reference Dmitry’s activities with the timing of the attack….”

“Do it,” I said. “But quietly. If I’m wrong, I don’t want to destroy a good man’s reputation. If I’m right….”

“If you’re right, we have a traitor in our inner circle,” Rafael finished grimly.

“One who’s been feeding information to our enemies for God knows how long.”

The silence that followed was heavy with implication. If Dmitry was compromised, how many operations had been leaked? How many of our people had been put at risk? How long had we been dancing to the tune of someone else’s agenda?

“There’s another possibility,” Cassandra said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“What if Dmitry isn’t the traitor? What if he’s just another asset being manipulated by someone higher up the food chain?”

The thought was even more chilling than the idea of a simple betrayal. If someone with enough influence to control our logistics coordinator was pulling strings, if our entire organization was being played from the inside….

“One thing at a time,” Rafael said, reading the direction of my thoughts. “First, we figure out if Dmitry is compromised. Then we worry about who might be pulling his strings.”

His tone made it clear he doubted my suspicions, but he was willing to go along with the investigations for the organization’s sake.

I nodded, but my mind was already racing ahead, calculating contingencies and responses. If we had a traitor in our midst, everyone was at risk. Eleanor, Anya, every person who worked for us or depended on us for protection.

“I want everything,” I said. “Phone records, financial transactions, travel logs, personal associations. If DmitryChertov so much as jaywalked in the past five years, I want to know about it.”

“That level of investigation will take time,” Cassandra warned.

“How much time?”

“Forty-eight hours for the basics, maybe a week for the deep dive.”

“You have twenty-four hours.”

“Maxim….”

“Twenty-four hours, Cassandra. Eleanor almost died today because someone betrayed us. I won’t give them another chance.”

She nodded, understanding the urgency. In our world, hesitation was often fatal, and second chances were luxuries we couldn’t afford.

Rafael stood up, straightening his jacket. “What about Eleanor? She’s obviously a target now.”

“She’s not leaving the house, except for work. Full security detail, armed escort even to move between rooms if necessary.”

“She’s not going to like that.”

“She doesn’t have to like it. She just has to be alive.”

“And if she refuses? She’s not exactly the type to accept confinement gracefully.”