ADRIAN
Irealize something is wrong the moment I land at the airport.
People often say there’s no such thing as a sixth sense and that having the ability to predict danger is a mere myth invented by superstitious, evil-spirit believers.
However, that sixth sense is what alerted me to something being amiss and enabled me to take countermeasures. That, and my tight grip on critical information and the enemy’s sore, weak spots.
There’s no such thing as a perfect defense. Not even fort-like houses, encrypted security, or armies of guards. The only way to eliminate hazards and protect those who matter is to gather as much intel as possible about the right people.
The people who wouldn’t dare to cross me. Because they’re afraid they have a spy in their ranks who’ll slice their throat before they can reach me.
This is how I’ve managed to effectively protect my family for decades. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve uncovered a plot way before its execution and swiftly put an end to it before it happened.
No one but my senior guards knows about these attempts. Certainly not my wife. As much as she’s integrated into my lifestyle, I don’t want to worry her over pests that I’ve already taken care of.
And because information is essential, I taught my children from a young age to acquire as much intel as possible, not only about their enemies but also their friends, entourage, and guards.
Basically, anyone who crosses their paths.
If they know the people they’re dealing with, they’ll be able to avoid any malicious intent and even destroy the conflict before it arises.
That talent comes naturally to my son. He’s fully aware of everything in his surroundings and goes the extra mile to implement that principle in his everyday life.
Annika might have been sheltered, but she can also get any information she sets out to obtain through her people skills. It’s how she’s managed to survive in our world all this time.
I trust my children’s survival skills, even when I’m not around. I still wish they depended on me for protection, but I knew there would be a day when they’d take their own paths in life.
Despite that trust, I can sense that something has gone awry during the time I was on my way here from the States.
I share a look with my senior guard, Kolya, and he nods, probably getting the same feeling as me.
“Sir.”
I stop at the entrance of the mansion in which my son stays. A younger man, probably a few years younger than Jeremy, greets us at the door. He has a muscular build, light blond hair, small blue eyes, and angular features.
He’s not one of the guards I sent with Jeremy when he first came to this bleak island that shares England’s irritating weather and the English’s bland manners.
There’s no need for questioning, because I know exactly who he is. Kolya and I have been keeping an eye on him ever since Jeremy informed me of his existence.
“Ilya Levitsky,” I say his name with an edge to my calm voice.
His body stiffens in an erect position, probably realizing that all the rumors he’s heard about me are true.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Kolya circles him like a giant cat who’s about to devour a cub and asks him in a rough Russian accent, “Age.”
“Twenty-one, sir.”
“Parents’ occupations.”
“They’re both dead.”
“Place of birth.”
“Saint Petersburg.”
“How did you get onto this island?”
“Scholarship.”
“Why did you join the Serpents?”
“I didn’t want to go back to my previous life in Russia, and I thought if I joined the New York Bratva, then I’d secure my future.”
“Reasons for defecting and choosing Jeremy.”
“He saved my life when he didn’t have to. He also taught me that I can take my fate into my own hands, and if I fail, so be it. I can always try again.”
“Military experience.”
“One year.”
“Too little.” Kolya tsks. “That might as well be considered nothing.”
“I’m open to enrolling again after college.”
“Special Forces?” Kolya asks with a raised brow.
“If that’s what the boss wants.”
“Even if that’s not what he wants, you will go.” I step forward. “You’re supposed to be the first line of defense for my son, and if I can’t trust you to protect him, I can and will eliminate you.”
He swallows, but he doesn’t cut eye contact. “Yes, sir.”
“You seem like a good kid, Ilya, but I’ll watch you until the day you die.” I grab him by the nape and stare straight into his eyes. “If I smell a hint of betrayal, incompetence, or even misjudgment, Kolya and I will see you again under less pleasant circumstances. And mark my words, death will be everything you wish for. Be loyal, and you’ll be compensated. Anything else will be punished.”
“I am loyal, but not to you, sir. My loyalty lies with Jeremy.” He doesn’t miss a beat as he says the words.
“How dare you.” Kolya reaches for him, but I raise a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
After a moment of staring at the kid, I casually release him.
He doesn’t take a step back, doesn’t flinch, or even release a breath of relief.
I still don’t entirely trust this kid, but I like him. He might be able to broaden Jeremy’s tunnel vision.
“Where is he?” I stroll inside with both Ilya and Kolya in tow.
“Control room. Let me take you there.”
“No need. You can stay here with Kolya.” I smile when my guard gives me a ‘really?’ look. “The kid needs to learn some hard facts. Think of him as Yan.”
“Can’t. At least Yan was in Special Forces.”
“Don’t be a snob, Kolya.” I smile to myself and head to the control room on the second story.
I’ve paid Jeremy a few visits through the years he’s been here, mainly because my wife misses him and doesn’t want to bug him about coming home often. For that reason, I learned the ins and outs of this mansion by heart. In fact, I knew everything about this place before Jeremy even set foot here.
After all, I couldn’t send him here without ensuring it was well-secured.
I push the door to the room open and stop at the threshold.
Jeremy sits in front of the countless monitors, alone, elbows on the table, chin leaning on his hand as he watches a sequence in a loop.
On the screen, a girl runs from the property while removing a wig and revealing her hair before she disappears out of the camera’s range.
On and on, the sequence repeats as if it’s a broken record.
I stride to behind Jeremy and cast a glance at what’s in front of him. A half-empty bottle of vodka, his phone flipped upside down on the table, and…a comic book? He never even read those when he was young.
Kids look up to superheroes; he looked up to me.
And clowns. He loved those fuckers for reasons unknown, and since Lia had a slight phobia of them, I often took him out to see those things.
Even from this view, he looks so much like me. My wife often hated that, especially when he was born. She was sad that he didn’t look like her in the slightest, but she eventually came to accept it.
I grab the back of his chair. “Is that the girl who helped that motherfucker Creighton kidnap your sister?”
My son finally notices I’m there, his slightly droopy eyes focused on me, his reaction delayed, probably due to being drunk—or getting there.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
“Seriously? I take an eight-hour flight to this godforsaken island, and that’s the first thing you ask?”
“I…didn’t mean it like that. I’m surprised is all. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Last-minute business meeting.”
“Are you sure it’s not so you can turn Creighton’s life into a living hell for daring to be with Anoushka?”
“There’s also that. I like multitasking.” I smile, then narrow my eyes on him. “You’re supposed to be helping me on that mission.”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m not in the mood to make her hate me.”
“Then what are you in the mood for?” I motion at the girl on the screen. “Revenge?”
His eyes, a replica of mine, to my wife’s chagrin, slide to the repeating video. He watches it for a silent beat, takes a sip from the bottle of vodka, then says, “She thought Creighton only wanted to talk to Annika and was completely unaware of the kidnapping plot.”
“Is that so?”
He nods.
“I assume you didn’t need to get the location out of her by torture as I initially thought?”
He shakes his head. “She freely offered it because she felt guilty about how you and Mom must have felt. She also helped Creighton because she felt guilty about how she and everyone else cut Annika off.” A humorless smile paints his lips. “She does a lot of things out of guilt, Cecily.”
“Cecily Knight. An only child. Her parents are Xander and Kimberly Knight. A businessman and a higher-up social worker, respectively. She has a grandfather who’s an ex-minister and an ex-prime minister. Another one is a retired diplomat. Her maternal uncle is taking after his diplomat father and has become an activist. She’s close with all of the above and belongs to the posh, rich British people’s inner circle, thanks to her parents. This means they’re close to many influential figures, including but not exclusive to Creighton’s parents, namely his fucker of a father.”
My son stares at me for a silent beat. “How do you know all that?”
I raise a brow but remain silent.
“I know you can get any information you want, but why did you do a background check on her?”
“She’s friends with Anoushka. I did a background check on all of them, but maybe I need to expand my intel since you’re so awfully interested in her.”
“There’s no need.” He takes another swig of his drink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I let her go.”