After a brief exchange, Julian excused himself. His mind was reeling from the newly discovered intel as he headed to Simon's office.
He barged in without knocking.
Simon turned from the window.
"Why didn't you tell us about Mamba?"
"You read the file?" Simon asked back.
"I did."
"I didn't want to complicate things."
"Viper was on that team, wasn't he?"
"He was."
Julian sighed softly. "You know about Life and Kare? The medical supply company."
"I do." Simon listened carefully.
"That company's name keeps popping up. In the administrator's and George's logistics reports. I think Viper's got a connection too."
"Go on."
"I saw Aldo approach Viper. They looked like they were old pals. And the last-second drop-off? How did he know?"
"I asked him for help," Simon explained. "He's been in Neomar for two years. Contacts were expected."
"Then where does Mamba fit into all this?"
"His records are nonexistent."
"...right." Julian had a sudden epiphany. He should let things play out. It wasn't his place to interfere until the moment called for it
…
Mia sat on the steel bench, watching a figure step out from a black car across the street. She appeared calm and relaxed.
"You're early." Daemon sat beside her. "You should have told me. I would have arrived sooner."
"I told you not to come. Just send the name back."
"That would have been rude." He gave a faint smile. "Besides. I wanted to see you, personally."
Mia scoffed. "Right. As if you weren't already watching from above."
"I'm not a God."
"I never said you were." She turned toward him, her gaze sharp.
Daemon held it. The wind passed between them. "That's why I chose you. To be the Queen."
"Queen…" She looked away at the streets. "Just give me the name. I don't have time."
"Yes." He handed her the letter. "Though I wonder if it's a bit early for him to know."
"There won't be time after tomorrow." Her voice softened slightly. "He's not in the right mind. And things will get worse from here. I may not get another chance."
"Curious." Daemon nudged his glasses up. "The way you speak about him."
"No." Mia said sharply. "It's between us. You shouldn't interfere in his life."
"A brief meeting. Nothing more."
Mia didn't answer. She stood and began walking. Then stopped.
"Maybe. When I'm gone."
Daemon watched her go. "Then I'll wait."
The results were out. The hallway was packed with students shoving each other to get a peek. Mia's head was spinning; every time she tried to push through, she got bumped back by the crowd.
"If only he were here," she sighed. Then she spotted Varsha entering the crowd from the right.
"Wait up!" Mia quickly moved toward her.
Varsha swiftly found a way in, but Mia was still struggling.
"Just step aside, will ya? You've been hogging this spot for ages."
"Shut your trap, I was here first."
"I know; I'm gonna be last."
Mia finally reached the notice board. Varsha stood beside her, gaze fixed on the list.
"How...?" Varsha muttered, her finger hovering on the glass.
"How what?" Mia asked. Receiving no reply, she looked for herself. "He really did it, huh? Number one."
"And he said it was a waste of his time." Varsha bit her lip.
"You don't have to be so bent out of shape about it. Second place ain't so bad," Mia said softly as she searched for her name.
"Pathetic. So pathetic." Varsha turned to leave, frustration etched on her face.
"You won't find him in class. He's busy elsewhere today," Mia called out, but she didn't know if Varsha heard her.
"Hey, check it out! This Paul Vaxlar came out on top."
"Yeah, right. That dude was MIA for a whole semester and then aces the exam. I honestly thought Varsha would win."
"Well, I knew it. Quiet guys like him are always the real geniuses."
Mia stepped out of the crowd. Everyone was talking about one person who wasn't even there.
"Is this all because he didn't want to go to the movies?"
…
Paul stopped just inside the entrance. Two men in black suits were waiting. One stepped forward, his eyes flickered to Paul's waist.
"Just a normal procedure," the man said.
Paul nodded. He reached behind his back, pulled his gun, and held it out. "That's all I have."
The second man took the weapon while the first checked Paul's ankles. After a moment, he straightened up and signaled Paul to go through.
Paul walked up the stairs to the right side of the landing. The nightclub had lost all its shine; the neon was dead, and the hall below was a cavern of empty tables. No one stood behind the bar counter.
He rested his hands on the railings, his gaze sweeping across the floor. Men in black were positioned at every corner and exit. Then there were Roman's men.
Why are there so many people here? Paul thought. Was it always like this, or just tonight?
He heard footsteps and glanced at three men walking behind him. Paul turned. "You."
All three stopped. The beer in their glasses sloshed against the rims.
"What is it?" one of them asked, looking Paul up and down.
Paul stepped toward them, his gaze locked. "Have you seen Roxy?"
"He's on the upper floor."
Paul nodded. He reached out and took the beer glass from the man's hand. The man stared, his grip loosening as Paul took it, but he didn't protest. Paul turned back to the stairs and headed for the next level.
He sipped the beer as he walked, the cold liquid sharp against his throat. On the upper floor, he spotted Roxy immediately, deep in conversation with someone near the railings.
Paul approached close.
Roxy noticed him.
Paul stopped a meter away, leaning casually against the cold railing. "Was it always this crowded?"
Roxy excused the men he had been speaking with and turned to Paul. "No. Roman alone handles this most of the time. It's never this packed."
"And the other side? Are they always this cautious?"
"You should know that better than I do," Roxy said, glancing at him.
"I don't." Paul took a small sip of the beer. "Never been to these deal sites before."
Roxy nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the floor below. "They never come with this many men. Usually three or four, at most."
"Then taking our guns wasn't on the old list either, I guess."
Roxy didn't answer. A heavy silence settled between them as the reality of the room started to sink in.
Why does everyone have to gather? Why were there so many men black suits? Why were they unarmed?
"So, you did come."
Roxy's eyes flicked behind Paul. Timothy was standing there. Paul didn't turn around.
Timothy leaned forward against the railings, settling in beside Paul. "Roman's going to be relieved."
"And why's that?" Paul asked, his voice flat and casual.
"The supplier's Boss. Anthony, was it? You know him, probably."
"I don't," Paul answered.
"But didn't you say you worked for the same man? From Neomar?"
"Doesn't mean we know each other."
"Yeah, right," Timothy nodded awkwardly. "Anyway, when I told Roman you might not be coming, he got a little boiled. I heard him say that Anthony guy specifically wants you here."
"Me?" The glass in Paul's hand twitched, bubbles rising to the surface.
"Yeah." Timothy nodded toward the floor below. "Roman said that for this deal, everyone needs to be here.
Paul's gaze snapped downward.
Four men were bathed in the dim, sickly light cast from the upper level. Two guards stood behind them silently. Roman sat on the right, his head down as he flipped through the pages of a contract. Anthony sat across from him, watching Roman, until his gaze suddenly snapped upward.
Their eyes locked. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them. A hunter and a prey, separated by thirty feet of empty air and hundreds of lies.
At that moment, Paul understood. This wasn't a deal; it was a set-up. Everyone was here for the same purpose: Him.
But Paul didn't feel the adrenaline rush he expected. He wasn't nervous. He just felt the cold clarity of a man who finally knows where he stands.
He lifted the glass and downed the rest of the beer in one long swallow. His gaze never left Anthony's.