Twenty Three

Twenty Three

"She's out of the Mansion," Daniel reported, walking into the study room where Mikhail stood by the window, his back to him, staring out as a car pulled out of the driveway unto the main Street.

"Send Chad. Follow them. Make sure they get back safely and report any suspicious activity to me," Mikhail spoke. He turned around, putting on his cufflinks and straightening his suit.

"Right away," Richard was already pulling out his phone, relaying the message.

"Good," Mikhail took a sip of his steaming morning coffee on the table. His plan had worked, he thought with a light smile.

Which was just as well, because he spent hours scouring the town for Ellie Ford, and an even longer time convincing her to come over. And if he couldn't be the one to comfort Amy, if she hated him for now, then he was willing to go the extra mile to see her smile as painful as it was that the smile wasn't from him.

And after last night, he had a new target.

Silver William. And heaven's help that man if he was still in LA by the time I come for him, Mikhail thought, finishing up the coffee just as a servant came in, taking the cup from him.

"What now, boss?" Daniel asked, still standing at the doorway.

Mikhail pulled open his drawer, feeling until he found his gun, slipping the hard metal into his pocket. He rose slowly, turning to Daniel with a cold smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Now we find the motherfucker that thinks he can stalk my wife."

The driver was waiting beside the black Tesla. Daniel followed the boss out of the Mansion, stepping in line beside him.

"J and K company," Mikhail instructed.
The driver paused. "But they don't open on Thursdays..." he began.

"They will," Mikhail cut in, pulling out his phone. "Now drive."

He slipped into the passenger seat, strapping on the seat belt before sending a quick message to the manager.

By the time they arrived at the company, Ronald was waiting at the main building. His face brightened up the moment Mikhail stepped out of the car.

They headed toward him, allowing him to lead them inside the company, which for some reason was fully open in just the span of a few minutes at best.

"To what do I owe this pleasure of a visit?" Ronald gave a smile, ushering Mikhail into his office.

Mikhail didn't return it, Daniel standing at the doorway while he walked in. "I need a full report on every staff that has access to Miss Riverdale's office." He stopped in front of the desk, his eyes scrolling through the neatly arranged files on it.

Ronald's smile froze in place. "But sir... that's..."

"The full records from two days ago," Mikhail continued. "It's important," he added after a while, his tone booking no room for negotiation.

"Y...yes, of course," Ronald muttered, turning away, his mind racing with questions that he did not dare ask.

Pulling open his drawers, Ronald shuffled through them, finally coming up with the said documents, setting them on the table next to the men.

Mikhail gave Daniel a nod, sitting down himself, his legs crossed. Daniel scored through the files like a man on a mission, while the manager stood there shuffling on his feet, hands behind his back, feeling oddly out of place.

"Helena Dragovich, HR Gina, Astrid and Connor, both junior staffs," Daniel read off the page, turning back to face Mikhail. "That's all."

The frown on Mikhail's face tightened. "Let me have a look at that," he reached for the files, scrolling through them himself, his fists clenching in frustration. All he had were a list of names and their positions in the company. This explained nothing.

"What else do you have?" He dropped the document, standing up, his eyes trained on the manager like he expected him to have all the answers.

"CCTV? Footages.... There has to be something!"

"Mr. Volkov, please," Ronald's brows furrowed, getting genuinely worried now. "If there's a problem, I'm sure I could help once you tell me about it."

"Yes, you could help by giving me what I need," Mikhail growled, taking a step forward.

Daniel put a hand on his shoulder, silently restraining him. Before any of the men could say anything more, Mikhail's phone rang, the sound cutting through the tension that had started to build in the small room.

"One minute," Mikhail pulled out his phone, gritting his teeth upon seeing who the caller was.

He stepped out of the office, walking down the corridor as he clicked on the receiver.

"What is it, Killian?" He asked impatiently.

"The cargo," a rough, hurried voice replied.

Mikhail stopped in his tracks. "Come again, Killian," he said, his voice dangerously slow. "This time start from the beginning."

There was a deep breath at the other end of the line. Mikhail could hear the speeding of cars on a highway, the random voices of people as they passed, which meant that Killian was out in the open.

"The cargo transporting weapons from LA to our warehouse in Chicago got intercepted. Masked gun men, they came prepared," Killian spoke, rushing over the details, giving Mikhail a quick grasp of what happened.

Mikhail's jaw tightened.

"No one knows how it happened. I just got the news. I'm heading over there right now," Killian said, followed by some harsh screeching of tires in the background that Mikhail had to pull the phone away from his ears.

He ended the call, walking back to the office in long strides.

"We're leaving," he pulled the door open, turning straight to Daniel.

"B...but sir?" Ronald stepped forward, more confused than ever, gesturing towards the files on the table with an incredulous expression. "You just made me drive all the way to open up the office in ten minutes and..."

He trailed off, seeing Mikhail's death stare.

"You've been very helpful," Mikhail nodded at him. "Keep an eye on Miss Riverdale's office in the future, and make sure no one knows of my visit. Especially her."

He spared one last glance at the man before marching out of the office, Daniel in his wake.

"What's the situation?" Daniel asked once they were back in the car, speeding off on the highway.

"We're dealing with an annoying, intelligent fool who thought he could distract me by stalking my wife while making other moves," Mikhail replied, his eyebrows twitching.

Daniel fell silent for a moment. "It worked, then," he said after a while.

Mikhail's fingers tightened on his phone; half of him wanted to snap the metal in half. He clicked his tongue, reminding himself that he had to reserve all the fury for the moment when he would be right in front of the culprit.

"He has my respect," he muttered. "I'll give him a quick death."

They were at the outskirts of LA nearly an hour later. He called Killian again, letting the other man direct him till they were parked in front of the catastrophe.

The abandoned warehouse looked like a war zone, bullet holes peppered the concrete walls. Mikhail stepped carefully over the glasses shattered on the ground, crunching under their feet.

The smell of gun powder still hung heavily in the air. Crashed in the building was one of the cargo trucks, battered beyond recognition.

Killian approached, his jacket matted with dirt, burly frame sagging slightly, his usual composed demeanor cracked with frustration.

"They knew exactly what and where we were carrying. Knew the number, knew the fucking hour," he stopped in front of them, his voice grim. "This wasn't random."

Mikhail surveyed the scene, his eyes turning colder as he took in every detail.

"How many?" he asked, his voice eerily calm despite the rage building beneath the surface.

"Six... Maybe seven," Killian stated. "All professionals. Got it done and got going in less than ten minutes." He kicked up the dust with his feet, gritting his teeth.

"It was over before the news reached me, before I could even call for reformation."

"Over here," Daniel called out.

He was at the truck, pulling open the trunk. "There's something here."

Mikhail was by his side immediately, helping him heft up the jammed opening.

Inside the trunk was a dead body, one Mikhail recognized as one of his men, his arm bent at an unnatural angle to fit in the small space, middle finger raised. Whoever did this took the liberty to draw a smiley face on it with a black marker.

"Motherfuckers," Killian cursed under his breath, shaking with anger.

Mikhail kept his neutral expression, leaning down. Something else caught his attention.

He felt for a pulse, even when he knew fully well that there would be none.

Straightening up, he reached for the gun hidden in his pocket. "Prepare the men," he said.

Things just got a thousand times more serious, and it just so happened that he knew of only one man in the whole of LA this deadly, with an even more infuriating sense of humour.