Chapter 3 - The Crimson Ledger
"They burned it," Selene whispered, her knees instantly giving out. She grabbed the edge of a mahogany table to keep from falling. "Everything... my equipment, my patient files, my father's old watch in the desk drawer... it's all gone."
Damen caught her elbow before she hit the marble floor. His grip was unexpectedly gentle, yet firm as steel. "I told you. The syndicate does not leave witnesses, and they do not leave evidence. If you were still in that building, you would be ashes."
Ivy let out a choked scream and sank into a couch, burying her face in her hands. Selene, despite her own crushing grief, pulled away from Damen and rushed to Ivy’s side, wrapping her arms around the terrified woman.
"Why are you doing this, Mr. Volkov?" Selene demanded, looking up at the towering man standing over them. "Men like you don't offer protection out of the goodness of their hearts. You're a mob boss. A criminal. What is your angle?"
Damen walked over to a glass decanter, poured two fingers of dark amber bourbon, and took a slow sip. "I am a businessman, Dr. Mercer. The media labels me an underworld kingpin because it fits their simple narrative. In reality, I manage assets, security, and information. And as it happens, Preston Holloway stole something from me before he ruined his own life."
Selene frowned. "What did he steal?"
"Information," Damen said, stepping closer. "Preston worked as a senior logistics auditor for my shipping yards at the Port of Chicago. Three weeks ago, he downloaded an encrypted ledger containing the names, routes, and cover operations of the syndicate he owed money to. He tried to use it as leverage to cancel his gambling debt. Instead, he made himself a target."
Damen set his glass down on the glass coffee table with a soft clink.
"Where is the ledger?" Selene asked, her medical mind trying to piece together the chaotic puzzle.
"That is what I intend to find out," Damen replied, turning his sharp gaze toward Ivy. "And I believe your patient knows exactly where her husband hid it."
Ivy looked up, her face pale, tears streaking her bruised cheeks. "I... I don't know what you're talking about! Preston never talked to me about his work! He only... he only hit me when he was angry!"
"Think carefully, Ivy," Damen said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying an undeniable authority. "A flash drive? A physical notebook? A key to a safety deposit box? He wouldn't leave something that valuable in an obvious place."
"I don't know!" Ivy sobbed, shrinking back into Selene.
Selene stood up, stepping defensively in front of Ivy once more. "Stop interrogation mode! She’s severely traumatized, she has a concussion, and she’s terrified! If you want answers, you let her rest, or you’ll have to go through me."
Damen stared at Selene for a long, heavy moment. A dark, intriguing spark flared in his gray eyes—a mixture of irritation and sudden, deep fascination. No one spoke to Damen Volkov in that tone. No one stood up to him in his own home.
"You have courage, Doctor," Damen said quietly, taking a step toward her until he was standing inches away. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Courage is admirable. But in my world, foolish courage gets people killed."
"In my world," Selene countered, holding his icy gaze without flinching, "protecting the weak is the only thing that keeps us human."
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Damen stared at her lips, then back into her eyes. For a fraction of a second, the cold mask he wore slipped, revealing a deep, churning intensity that made Selene’s breath catch in her throat.
"Room three at the end of the hall," Damen ordered softly, turning toward his floor-to-ceiling windows. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, the real hunt begins."
