Page 58 of Viper’s Reign

“Hold on, I was about to call you myself. Noah told me your girl didn’t crack.”

There’s no question in it, but I know what he wants to know. “She didn’t.” My brows furrow as I reflect on the dungeon footage I’ve seen. She wasn’t tortured, merely restrained and questioned, not harmed in the way that word truly means. My men know better than to cross that line. We might be monsters, but we’re monsters who don’t hurt the defenseless—that is, women and children.

If I had died, maybe they would have thrown that rule out. Good thing I didn’t.

“But I think I know who sent her. I just need to find proof,” I add, still tapping my desk.

My brothers and I don’t usually exchange sensitive information over the phone. Phones are too easy to tap. Still, it’s not always practical to meet in person, so I made a scrambler for us. Even if someone managed to tap in—which would be damn near impossible—all they’d hear is white noise.

“Who?” Vanya’s expected question stills my tapping.

“Daniel Salvi,” I growl, my lips curling in a sneer as I picture the slimy politician.

Vanya goes quiet for a second. “That’s a grave allegation, Dima. Are you sure?”

“I planted a bug in his car,” I say, then tell him about the conversation I overheard between Daniel Salvi and Senator Cole. He listens without interrupting, and when I finish, he lets out a string of curses.

“That motherfucker. I’ll kill him with my bare hands if it turns out he’s really the one behind this.”

“No, that fucker is mine.” If he sent Grace into my house to stab a needle in my thigh, he didn’t just come for my family’s interests. He personally came for me. A life for a life. I rap my knuckle on the desk, trying to redirect my anger. There’s no point getting worked up when there’s nothing I can do about it. Yet.

“Is Vasily any closer to finding out who the fuck owned that warehouse?” I ask, needing to change the subject before I explode.

Before Vanya’s wedding, we discovered the owner of the East River warehouse is the same man responsible for the kidnappings of our men. At least those have stopped for now. But the bastard has been hiding behind proxies and shell companies, and we still haven’t pinned down who he actually is.

“No,” Vanya bites out, the strain in his voice carrying over the line. I get it—he almost lost his life and his wife’s life in that explosion. “The bastard is like a ghost. He uses proxies for everything and always wears a mask when he meets his men, so nobody knows what he looks or sounds like.”

Frustration grates on me. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“And you think I do? I’d like nothing more than to snap that fucker’s neck, but instead I have to wait and watch out for any future threat he might pose. It’s a fucking irritant.” A door opens, the sound of traffic rising briefly. “I have to go.”

The call ends.

I swipe my palm over my face, my skin feeling itchy with the need to find whoever’s orchestrating this and end it.

My mind slips to Grace. If I play my cards right with her, I can have her eating out of my hand and telling me everything I want to know. Torture won’t work on her, no, no. She strikes me as someone who has something to protect. And if my theory holds, I need to figure out what that is and exploit it.

I log into Specter on my tablet, feed Grace Turner into the search, and get to my feet. While the software does its work, I’ll do mine with the woman herself.

I leave my study and jog down the stairs at a pace I’m choosing to call efficient. Not eager. Definitely not eager. And the tightening in my skin as I near the room—that’s professional anticipation. The kind that comes with being close to answers. Nothing else. I can no longer afford to feel anything else where she’s concerned.

Too bad my body has yet to agree.

When I reach the hallway, I spot Pavel pacing outside the door.

He startles at the sound of my footsteps. “Sir⁠—”

“I told you to keep her in your sight at all times.”

“The doctor needed privacy. She’s performing a full-body check. I-I can’t be in there for that. It requires the lady to undress and—” His voice runs dry under my stare, and a sliver of my anger eases.

“Good call,” I tell him and mean it. It would have been a shame to rip his eyes out for seeing what he shouldn’t have. “You can go.” I dismiss him and push the door open.

22

GRACE

I dive under the covers the moment the door opens, pulling them up to my chin with a speed that probably looks exactly as undignified as it feels. Dimitri stops walking at my abrupt movement, the door clicking shut behind him, his eyes dropping to the shape of me under the covers before sliding up to my face.