"Find them," Dimitri said, his voice so cold that ice formed on the words. "I want them alive. I want them talking. I want to know every piece of information they passed to Dante, every detail they observed, everything."
He entered the penthouse and went directly to the bedroom.
Eve was asleep, her breathing even, her body completely relaxed. She had no idea what had just happened. No idea that Dante had been inside this space, had been watching her, had been close enough to hurt her.
That knowledge alone would have driven Dimitri to do something catastrophic.
Instead, he took a breath. Centered himself. Did what he'd been trained to do: compartmentalize the rage, contain the fury, channel it into focused, methodical action.
"Two men stay here," he told his security team. "Rotation every hour. I want her watched at all times. The moment she wakes up, I'm to be informed. The moment anything changes, I'm to be informed."
"Understood," the security officer said.
