Chapter 8 Secrets That Bleed

The hallway outside Victor's office reeked of cologne, power, and quiet deaths. Emily walked beside him, heels deliberately loud against the marble floors, a steady rhythm to match her pounding heart. She wore red tonight-a dress chosen not for seduction, but for war. Blood-colored silk. A warning. A promise.

Victor opened the grand double doors and gestured for her to enter.

"You've been very quiet today," he noted, following her inside.

"I find silence safer around predators," she said, taking a seat in front of the massive mahogany desk.

"Smart woman." He poured himself a drink, letting the sound of ice clink against glass fill the quiet. "But smart women often forget-they still bleed like everyone else."

Emily leaned back and crossed her legs. "Only if they let you cut them."

Victor laughed. "Liam's training shows. You've got a mouth like a trap and eyes that never blink."

"He didn't train me," she said coolly. "Life did."

That gave him pause.

He studied her. "You really hate him, don't you?"

"Who says I don't hate you more?"

Victor took a sip of his drink. "You're brave."

"No, I'm just done being scared."

The room fell into silence again. Emily kept her face neutral, knowing that even the smallest crack could be used against her. Victor had been testing her since she arrived. Every conversation, every meal, every glance felt like part of an exam designed to expose her.

And she'd passed-barely.

"You've been here three days," he said. "And not once have you asked about the ledger."

"Why would I?" she replied. "It's just a fantasy, right? Some legend the big bad mafia bosses chase to feel important."

Victor chuckled. "Oh, it's real."

She smiled sweetly. "Then you must already have it."

He gave her a look. "You're more dangerous than I thought."

Emily's eyes gleamed. "You have no idea."

Victor's phone buzzed. He looked down, frowned, and stood abruptly. "I have business. Don't try anything stupid."

She didn't respond as he left. Instead, she slipped off her heels, crossed to the bookshelf behind the desk, and scanned the titles. She was looking for a crack in the wall, a panel out of place-something Liam had hinted at in his last message.

The ledger's hidden in plain sight. You'll know it when you see it.

She ran her fingers along the spines until she paused at one: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing. It was the only book with dust. Carefully, she pulled it.

A soft click.

The panel to the right slid open two inches.

Her heart leapt, but she didn't move. Not yet.

Footsteps echoed outside. She darted back to the desk and slid into her chair just as a guard peeked in.

"Need anything?" he asked.

"An espresso," she said with a smile. "Double shot. You people sleep too much."

The guard raised a brow but left.

Emily exhaled slowly, waiting for the hallway to fall quiet again. Then she returned to the panel, pulled it open, and stepped into a narrow passageway hidden behind the wall.

It was cold, cramped, and pitch-black-until she found the light switch.

The secret room was no bigger than a closet, but it was filled with filing cabinets, floor to ceiling. And in the center, a single locked box sat atop a pedestal, like something out of a spy thriller.

She didn't have the key.

But she had Celine's lockpick kit sewn into the lining of her heels.

Kneeling, she worked fast, adrenaline sharpening her focus. The click of the latch opening was the sweetest sound she'd heard in days.

Inside the box was a flash drive and a leather-bound book labeled with dates, names, and dollar signs.

She stared at it, heart pounding.

This was it. The ledger. Proof of every deal, every bribe, every bloody transaction Victor had made over the years. People would kill for this.

She tucked it under her dress, sealed the box, closed the panel, and returned to her chair just as Victor walked back in.

He stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing.

"You look... flushed."

"Espresso," she lied, sipping the cup the guard had brought moments before.

Victor said nothing, but she felt his suspicion like a knife grazing her neck.

Back at Liam's compound, the situation was escalating fast.

"She's got the ledger," Liam said, eyes on the satellite feed.

Celine raised a brow. "How can you tell?"

"She only tucks her hair behind her left ear when she's lying. Watch." He replayed the footage.

Sure enough, Emily smiled at Victor, then tucked her hair left.

Celine whistled. "You two are either insane or made for each other."

Liam's jaw was clenched. "Both."

That night, Emily knew she couldn't sleep. She sat by the window, staring into the estate courtyard. Moonlight spilled across the concrete like spilled milk. She touched the ledger hidden beneath her mattress.

And then the phone in her room rang.

She froze.

No one had called since she arrived.

She picked it up. "Yes?"

A pause. Then a deep voice: "You have what doesn't belong to you."

Her blood ran cold.

"Who is this?"

"Someone who's been watching you very closely."

She glanced toward the camera in the corner. "If you come near me, I swear-"

"You think Victor's your biggest problem?" the voice said. "Sweetheart, he's just the gatekeeper. I'm the devil inside."

The line went dead.

Emily slammed the phone down and locked the door, breath ragged.

Liam wasn't the only one watching her.

The deeper she went, the more she realized-Victor wasn't the top of the food chain.

He was just another pawn.

She was dancing in a nest of monsters now.

And someone was about to bite.