Chapter 11 - The Mole
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The peace of the upstate fortress was a stark contrast to the war brewing in the city. But the illusion of perfect security shattered two days later.
I was in the war room, a highly secured command center in the basement of the estate, reviewing tactical maps with Marco.
"Something isn't adding up, Dominic," Marco said, his brow deeply furrowed as he traced a line on the digital map of Manhattan. "Kolov is a brute. He doesn't have the intelligence network to track a maid who takes a different subway route home every night."
"You think he had inside help," I stated, the dark realization already forming in my mind.
"He had to," Marco confirmed. "Emma’s schedule was erratic. She covered shifts for other girls. The only way Kolov’s men knew exactly which alley to wait in, and exactly what time she would be walking past, is if someone inside your house gave them her itinerary."
My blood ran completely to ice.
A rat. Someone who ate my food, took my money, and smiled at my face had sold an innocent woman to the Russian syndicate just to make a quick buck.
"Lock down the communications grid," I ordered, my voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register. "Nobody inside the Manhattan staff makes a phone call, sends an email, or leaves the property. I want the phone records, bank statements, and digital footprints of every single employee who had access to the household schedules."
"I’m already on it, Boss," Marco said, typing rapidly on his encrypted laptop.
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Paranoia is a necessary tool for survival in my world, but realizing the betrayal had occurred inside my own home felt like a physical violation. Emma had been serving the very people who had orchestrated her brutal beating.
"I will find the traitor," I whispered to the empty room as Marco worked. "And I will make an example of them that this city will never forget."
