39. Chapter 39

thirty-nine

Leonid

T he city hums beneath me, but it’s distant—irrelevant. My focus is on the screen in front of me. Clara Caldwell.

Ah, my little mouse, thinking she can scurry away from me.

But no matter where she goes, I’ll always find her.

There she is, driving that beat-up Toyota Camry. Chert , my dick’s twitching like a goddamn metal detector at the sight of her. Tight bun. That don’t-fuck-with-me attitude radiates off her even through the screen. Her fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, like she’s thinking she can escape. Cute.

The feed comes from my man tailing her in a black SUV, tucked just far enough away so she won’t notice. The view is steady, catching every detail of her route. It’s almost too easy to follow.

Where are you running off to, little mouse?

I lean back, fingers tapping lightly on my desk as I watch her. She takes a turn toward the highway, picking up speed. Smart, but not smart enough. I raise an eyebrow.

What’s your plan, Red?

Just as she merges onto the highway, something catches my eye—a tiny figure in the back of the car. It’s small, almost a blur, but it’s there. I lean forward, narrowing my eyes.

What the fuck is that?

There’s a kid. Small .

Suka, why is she lugging a kid?

My earpiece crackles, my man’s voice cutting in. “Boss, you want us to stay on her? She’s picking up speed.”

I hesitate for a second, watching the figure.

“Hold back,” I order, my voice low, the tension in my chest building. “Switch to the bike. Don’t let her spot you.”

There’s a brief pause before the response. “Copy that. Switching vehicles now.”

It’s not long before I hear the subtle rumble of the bike through the earpiece, the motor’s hum much quieter than the SUV’s. It’ll be harder for her to notice, especially at highway speed.

She can’t know we’re onto her. Not yet.

I listen as my man expertly shifts gears, weaving the bike through traffic, closing the distance between him and Clara without drawing attention.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of watching her drive like she’s got all the time in the world.

She thinks she’s safe. Mily.

The highway stretches behind her, fading into narrow streets, and then she takes a sudden turn—one that leads to a dirt road lined with thick trees and overgrown brush. It’s a hidden path, one people only take when they don’t want to be found.

Ah, Clara, you think this little hideaway will save you?

“Boss,” my man’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “She’s turning onto a private road. No cars in sight. If we follow her straight in, she’ll know.”

I smirk, leaning forward, fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

“Let her think she’s in control,” I say, the thrill building. “It’s a dead end. She’s not going anywhere.”

The hum of the motorbike fades as my man slows down, staying hidden in the tree line.

“Hide the bike,” I order. “Stay put until she makes a move. No contact until I give the word.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a sharp “Copy that.”

Just as the last order slips from my lips, the heavy wooden door to my office swings open. I don’t even need to look. Maksim.

“Got some good news, boss,” he says, strolling in like he owns the place. Dmitry follows, all 6’8” of him, taking up space without saying a word, his usual intimidating presence settling in beside Maksim. They don’t wait for permission—never do. That’s not how we work.

I don’t look up from the screen. “What?”

Maksim grins, the sound of his boots thumping against the floor before he drops into the chair across from me. He leans back, feet casually propped up on my desk like he’s lounging on a Sunday afternoon.

“Maxwell Caldwell. Fucking drunk. Worse than we thought.”

My eyebrow lifts, interest piqued. “Go on.”

“He’s losing everything—properties, businesses, the whole empire’s slipping through his fingers. The bastard’s trying to sell off assets, but it’s all being snapped up by some corporate front. ‘Vortex Industries.’ Can’t trace shit—whoever’s behind it, they know how to stay invisible.”

That catches my attention .

A shadow player?

I flick my gaze to Maksim, and I can see the smug satisfaction on his face. He knows this is worth something.

“And the other good news?” I ask, my voice steady but sharp.

Dmitry, who’s been silent up until now, leans forward, placing his massive hands on the table with a grin that’s more sinister than reassuring. “Our men are ready. Just say the word, and we’ll move.”

“Let’s give our little mouse a midnight surprise,” I say, my voice dropping low. “Let her think she’s safe.”

My lips curl into a dark smile as I tap my fingers again. “Then we’ll close the net.”