Shadow of the Night

The most powerful sound is a woman’s heels clicking over blood.

The thought crossed my mind as I stepped into the ballroom.

Music came from every direction, fast and relentless, drowning out the clink of glasses and the bursts of laughter scattered through the crowd. Pale yellow lights swept over the room, catching faces for a heartbeat before leaving them to the darkness again.

Perfect.

Darkness made people careless.

I smoothed the hem of my black dress and took the empty barstool closest to the room.

From here, I could see almost everything.

Men in expensive suits stood in small circles, laughing too loudly at jokes that weren't funny. Women moved between them, champagne glasses balanced delicately between manicured fingers. A few couples danced beneath the chandeliers, their bodies pressed together as though the rest of the world didn't exist.

It was almost convincing.

Almost.

Because only a few yards away, behind several locked doors and two armed guards, men were deciding who would keep their businesses, who would lose them, and who would die before morning.

My fingers brushed the small handbag beside me.

The flash drive was still there.

Good.

I ordered another drink and forced myself to relax.

I hadn't come for the champagne.

I hadn't come for the music.

And I certainly hadn't come to enjoy myself.

I was here for information.

The kind people killed to keep buried.

I scanned the room again.

That's when he sat beside me.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Black trousers and a crisp white shirt beneath a dark green jacket thrown carelessly over his shoulders.

He looked young enough to be reckless and rich enough to believe consequences were something that happened to other people.

Then he turned toward me.

Dark-green eyes.

Interesting.

His gaze moved over my dress before settling on my face.

“Black looks good on women.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Every color looks good on women.”

A slow smile appeared on his lips.

“True.”

He lifted his glass.

“But black makes people wonder what you're hiding.”

I looked at him over the rim of mine.

“Maybe you should wonder less.”

He laughed.

There was something effortless about it.

Too effortless.

I let my gaze wander toward the dance floor.

He followed it.

“First time here?”

“No.”

“Then you must know someone.”

“Everyone knows someone.”

He smiled again.

“You're avoiding the question.”

“And you're asking too many.”

That seemed to amuse him.

Good.

People talked more when they were entertained.

I let the silence stretch between us.

Then I glanced at him.

“Aren't you going to introduce yourself?”

He straightened slightly, as if I'd finally asked the question he'd been waiting for.

“Daniel.”

Just Daniel.

I pretended to consider the name.

“And you?”

“Someone who doesn't give her name to strangers.”

He leaned closer.

“Then I suppose I'll have to become less of a stranger.”

I smiled.

“Good luck.”

He laughed under his breath.

The man at the end of the bar suddenly looked toward us.

One of the guards downstairs.

Then he looked away.

I filed the detail away.

Daniel noticed none of it.

Or pretended not to.

I looked at him again.

“Daniel.”

“Yes?”

“Are you Khosrow Khan's son?”

For the first time, his expression changed.

Only slightly.

A pause.

Then a laugh.

“People always ask about my father.”

“So it's true.”

“Depends who's asking.”

“I'm asking.”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass.

“My father has been retired for years.”

I kept my face neutral.

Retired.

Interesting.

Because Khosrow Khan had been making deals less than two months ago.

I had seen the records myself.

Either Daniel truly didn't know what his father was still doing—

or he knew far more than he wanted me to believe.

I took a slow sip.

“That's strange.”

“What is?”

“I didn't know.”

His eyes narrowed for half a second.

There.

Not anger.

Interest.

He leaned toward me.

“Didn't know what?”

I shrugged.

“Nothing important.”

People hated being denied information more than they hated being lied to.

Daniel moved closer.

“What were you going to say?”

I turned toward him.

His phone rested on his thigh.

Unlocked.

That was the first mistake.

His second was looking at me instead of it.

His fingers brushed mine as he leaned closer.

“I was saying—”

His voice disappeared beneath the music.

I frowned.

“What?”

He repeated himself.

I smiled as if I still couldn't hear him.

At the same time, my hand slipped into my lap.

The flash drive was already between my fingers.

I reached for his wrist with one hand.

“Come closer.”

He did.

Of course he did.

I leaned toward him, letting my hair fall over the side of my face.

My other hand moved.

The flash drive touched the phone.

For one terrifying second, nothing happened.

Come on.

Daniel's eyes dropped.

My heartbeat kicked once.

Then the screen changed.

The transfer had started.

I kept smiling.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “What did you say?”

He laughed.

“I said your attention is dangerous.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It's a warning.”

Interesting.

The progress bar moved.

Twenty percent.

I kept my eyes on his.

Forty.

He said something else.

I laughed at the right moment.

Sixty.

Someone passed behind us.

I shifted slightly, blocking the phone from view.

Seventy-five.

My pulse climbed.

Eighty-nine.

Daniel suddenly glanced down.

I placed my hand over his wrist.

“Don't.”

His eyes returned to mine.

A smile slowly formed.

“Don't what?”

“Look so suspicious.”

He laughed.

The transfer completed.

I disconnected the drive and closed my fingers around it.

Then I let my hand fall into my lap.

Ninety seconds.

Not bad.

I lifted my glass.

“You're not very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being charming.”

He grinned.

“I thought I was doing well.”

“You're doing better than you deserve.”

I stood.

His eyes followed me.

I picked up my handbag.

Then, just before I turned away, I reached down and straightened the collar of his jacket.

He didn't move.

I smiled.

“If you're planning to take your father's place one day, Daniel, you're going to have to be smarter than that.”

His smile disappeared.

I walked away before he could answer.

Behind me, I heard him say my name.

I hadn't given it to him.

That made me walk faster.

The crowd swallowed me.

Music.

Laughter.

Glasses.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody cared.

That's the thing about powerful people.

They become so convinced that everyone in the room wants something from them that they stop noticing the person who wants nothing.

I reached the far end of the ballroom.

There it was.

A spiral staircase leading to the second floor.

Two guards stood at its base.

Their clothes were expensive.

Their shoes were polished.

Their hands never moved far from their weapons.

The Eastern Border meeting was upstairs.

And whatever was happening in that room was important enough to make half the city's most dangerous men gather under one roof.

I stopped beside a table and placed my untouched drink down.

Daniel had given me what I needed.

But the phone wasn't what I'd come for.

I looked at the staircase.

The real prize was upstairs.

---

Getting upstairs was going to be harder.

The villa's entrance was crowded, so I slipped through a side door and stepped outside.

Cold autumn air hit my skin.

The music immediately became distant.

Wind moved through the trees surrounding the property, carrying the dry rustle of leaves across the courtyard.

Cars filled almost every available space.

Black sedans.

Expensive SUVs.

Vehicles with tinted windows and no visible plates.

I walked along the side of the villa, keeping close to the shadows.

Nobody followed.

At least, nobody I could see.

The back of the house was darker than the courtyard.

I looked up.

A balcony extended from the second floor.

Beyond it, a tall window disappeared behind thick curtains.

No staircase.

No convenient fire escape.

No open door.

I stared at the balcony.

Then at my heels.

“Of course.”

I slipped them off.

Barefoot, I crossed the grass and approached the nearest tree.

Its trunk leaned just enough toward the balcony to give me a chance.

A terrible chance.

I gathered my dress and started climbing.

The bark scratched my palms.

My dress caught on a branch.

I froze.

Inside the villa, a light moved across the curtains.

I held my breath.

Nothing.

I continued.

The higher I climbed, the more ridiculous the plan seemed.

I was wearing a dress meant for a ballroom, not a tree.

My hands were beginning to hurt.

But turning back wasn't an option.

Not now.

I reached the thickest branch and looked across.

The balcony railing was perhaps four feet away.

Close enough.

Not safe enough.

I crouched.

One.

Two.

Three.

I jumped.

My fingers caught the railing.

For one horrible second, my feet swung above the ground.

The metal bit into my palms.

I clenched my teeth and pulled myself up.

Then I rolled onto the balcony.

I stayed there for a moment, breathing hard.

Lucky.

Too lucky.

I pushed myself up and looked through the glass.

The curtains had shifted slightly.

Inside were at least a dozen men.

No.

More.

Almost every major trafficker connected to the Eastern Border was there.

That wasn't a meeting.

It was a gathering.

A desperate one.

I moved closer.

Voices carried through the glass.

“What guarantee do we have that one of us won't be next?”

A man answered immediately.

“Guarantee?”

His voice trembled with anger.

“Two years. Two years this parasite has been inside the system, taking us out one by one.”

Another man spoke.

“Ahmad.”

A pause.

“Shapour.”

Another pause.

“And now Khosrow.”

My breath caught.

Khosrow.

So Daniel wasn't the only one who had lied tonight.

“What are we supposed to do?”

A chair scraped against the floor.

“Do?”

The first man laughed bitterly.

“The names you just mentioned were the men who tried to stand against him.”

Silence.

Then—

“No one can stop Lord.”

Lord.

The name settled over the room like a shadow.

I had heard rumors.

Everyone had.

A man no one could identify.

A man who seemed to know where his enemies would be before they knew themselves.

But rumors were cheap.

Bodies weren't.

Another man slammed his hand against the table.

“Then what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait for him to come for us?”

No answer.

“He'll take our businesses one by one.”

Silence.

“He'll take everything.”

I pressed closer to the glass.

Ahmad.

Shapour.

Khosrow.

My mind ran through what I knew.

Ahmad had died in a fire at his own warehouse.

The police had called it an accident.

Shapour had been arrested.

Khosrow—

Khosrow was supposedly retired.

Yet these men were sitting together because all three were connected to the same person.

Lord.

My stomach tightened.

Someone in that room knew the truth.

And I needed to know what they knew.

Footsteps sounded behind the door.

I froze.

They were coming closer.

One step.

Then another.

My eyes darted toward the balcony railing.

Too far to jump.

The tree was below me.

The door handle moved.

Damn it.

I backed away from the glass.

For the first time that night, I realized something.

I hadn't been the only person watching.

Someone had been watching me too.